Robert Hugill
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Everything posted by Robert Hugill
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Hanno had turned up trumps. Sternbach was a small town southwest of Munich, not far from the Starnberger See. The town was relatively compact but very well-heeled with plenty of large houses and discreetly expensive cars. It had expanded in the 1920s and 1930s (go figure), thanks in part to the regular local train services from Munich. The town centre mixed old buildings done up to an inch of their lives and all sorts of modern ones. It was prosperous and looked to be a nice place to l
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Wait and see...
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Worth the wait...
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Yes!
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I have always been a bit wary of owt, it looks cruder than it sounds and I know southerners who pronounce it closer to 'ote'
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Because some mothers know everything whether told or not!
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>Can I come round tonight? “Well, I am in, but…” >I don’t want to do owt. It’s just to use your big table. “Big!” Neil snorted. >Bigger than mine. Have some work. “I’ll be around, but I’ve got teaching.” >Not folk coming round? “No, online.” >I’ll be quiet, keep out your way. “OK. Can I ask why?” > Don’t want Gar to see something. I’d do it at the studio, otherwise. “Oh.” >Design. A table, like you said.
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Open mic night again
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in Open mic night again
Well spotted! -
Open mic night again
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in Open mic night again
I must confess it was quite a late addition to the narrative. Having realised they needed to have 'the talk', it struck me their differing attitudes might be illuminating. -
“Oh honey, where did you get that dress? It does nothing for you.” “And those moves are straight out of Pan’s People.” Lila and Liam were pulling no punches when it came to critiquing the acts. But I had to explain to Neil what Lila meant: a 1970s dance group from Top of the Pops did not seem to have entered his consciousness. Going to open mic night with Lila and Liam in tow was serious fun, even though a lot of our pop culture references had to be explained to Neil. And he was se
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There's a jump half-way through chapter one. I need to make it more obvious!
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He was 16 in the first scene which was 6 or 7 years ago! Sorry, if it was confusing, the first draft was even more confusing according to my editor!
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Evan wanted to meet Neil, and was most insistent about it. I had visited Evan a couple of times since the Lieder Festival, and each time he had asked after Neil. I was going over on Sunday for a final chat about Werther, and Evan wanted Neil to join us for tea. Neil had blinked at me when I had mentioned the idea. We were having a pie and a pint, trying out another pub near my flat one evening after work. I had spent a long day in front of the laptop coaching students, so my eyes were a
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Thanks! Here's hoping.
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>Are you seeing Neil this week, love? “Tomorrow. Why? We’re going to the open mic night.” >You’re not singing again, are you? I laughed. Mother had not approved. “Don’t worry: we’re just watching. Why did you ask about Neil?” >He’ll need your support. He’s told his mum. “About being gay?” >Yes. She’s not best pleased. She phoned me. “What’s the problem?" >Well, she didn’t make much sense on the phone. After all, she’s no problem wit
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Margaret does have rather a lot of my own mother in her!
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The 1950s lot comment was Neil being inaccurate!
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I’d not thought about what effect Charlie’s presence would have on our Sunday activities. I’m not sure Neil had either. He was simply relieved to have Charlie back under the watchful eye of the family. Mother phoned on Sunday morning as I was making coffee whilst watching Neil doing his press-ups and leg exercises. It had taken time for him to admit to a regular regime, and even longer for him to do it in front of me. This morning he was naked, and his bum—the way it was flexing—was giving
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>You around this weekend? “I can be. Why? Is there anything you fancy doing?” Neil’s call had come out of the blue. We’d talked about meeting up for a drink: what was becoming code for him coming back to my place. But this time he seemed more uncertain. >It’s just... Bollocks! I need a car and I can’t bloody drive, can I? “Look: you can tell me to piss off, but how come you only have a motorcycle licence?” >Never got around to it. Never seemed to need it.
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Wow!
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We're number 7 in Top 10 Most Read General Fiction in the last month Thanks to all our readers!
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Thanks! Certainly never thought of it like that!
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I had been practicing—to the detriment of my real work. However, when Neil came back to our table with two pints of Admirable Growler and a broad grin on his face, announcing my position in the running order, I started to panic. It was the weekly open mic night at the Marquis of Granby in Kenwood, a relatively unassuming 19th-century inn to which someone had attached a long low barn-like structure at the back, which was now their function room. I’d known of the place: it had reputation st
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Reconciliation over a naked bum
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in Reconciliation over a naked bum
Yes, reading the story back I realised that but thought that it made a degree of sense. Neil would probably only manage to talk to Gar about something concrete - 'seeing a bloke' - rather than his sexuality in the abstract. For years I thought that berk was spelled burk mainly because I only ever heard it spoken!- 20 comments
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A week later I was ready to post Evan what I hoped was the finished score of Werther and was just returning from the post office where the postage had been a small fortune. Having got Werther out of the way, I was wondering whether I dared doorstep Neil by waiting near the workshop so that I could catch him alone. As I walked back to the flat, I spotted a figure sitting on the doorstep. A familiar figure. To my cry of “Neil!” he stood up, muttered something incomprehensible and presented
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