Robert Hugill
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Everything posted by Robert Hugill
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I hadn't explained what CAMRA was, and probably should have done so! 😀
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Tuesday, Keith was going to be on his own for his second session with Fags for Football, Thomas was working and would almost certainly not get away in time. Keith was a little disappointed, but having broken the ice with the team, he was still looking forward to it. He didn’t have time to dash home and was running so late that he was still in his work gear when he arrived. However, Keith decided he did not dare to get changed by the car and scuttled into the club-house to do so. As he came
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Giorgio Moroni in the Spring
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in Giorgio Moroni in the Spring
Not Francis, but close.... -
Giorgio Moroni in the Spring
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in Giorgio Moroni in the Spring
Thanks! Dante's Father was Irish.- 13 comments
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Dan had put several feelers out about Greg, even to the extent of going out for drinks with various of his ex-mates. I’d met him at the pub at one of these; my entrance designed as an excuse for him to leave if he needed one. A large and uninteresting road-house sort of pub, plenty of background noise, a big table of men and women busy downing pints, swapping gossip, discussing the match, and latest Formula One scandal. That sort of thing. Everyone wanted me to stay for a drink, and it seem
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Monday morning, Thomas left very early, but Keith had a later start. Because of the way jobs panned out, and the need to meet a new client who lived nearby, Keith was ‘working from home’ for a couple of hours. Which, of course, meant more paperwork. He’d left stuff in the van and walked across to fetch it. Greg was showing a tall, blond woman round; dramatically dressed in black with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, she looked very much like the sort of higher-end clients Keith occa
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Pictures at The Manor
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in Pictures at The Manor
Glad that Francis Heyward has people guessing, that was the idea, and it only gets worse (I hope!) -
Pictures at The Manor
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in Pictures at The Manor
I wanted Duncan H's paintings to be terrible imagined a horrid mash-up, but perhaps unimaginatvely conservative might have been more fitting!- 15 comments
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When Archie, Francis Heyward’s PA, sidekick or whatever, emailed to invite me over to The Manor to look at Francis’ other paintings, I was more than a little surprised. Oh, I know that Heyward had mentioned the idea, but I’d been uncertain where politeness began, and the real Francis Heyward ended. I was also rather wary. Did he, indeed, value my opinion or was this another of his little games? I discussed it with Dan, and we agreed that I should go. It would seem churlish not to, and I hav
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The Tadcaster bit is written partly from experience, as on a Wet Winter Weekend in Leeds we went there for the day and explored, breweries and all.
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Thanks!
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“How was the Spa?” Alison smiled and extended her arms out, narrowly missing a waiter in the bar, “Blissful, can’t you tell, I’m completely rejuvenated! Seriously, it was lovely. All that relaxing and doing nothing, whilst whatever treatment they’ve applied works its magic; I think being forced to do nothing, in such luxurious circumstances, is a good idea. I can’t say I’d try every treatment again, but it was worth it. How about you, how was the massage?” Both men clammed up and Keith
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Apologies, can't keep my facts straight!
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Dan’s Gran lived in a tiny house, almost bijou, on an estate in Eltham in darkest South-East London. There was something almost Arts and Crafts about the houses, though there was also an air of council estate. I’m not quite sure what that means, but you could tell. The houses were certainly not designed to create large living spaces for workers. I knew of the estate and had read about it but had not visited; created as a garden suburb for munitions workers in 1915, the houses were on the small s
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Thanks, I never always realise that themes recurr until its too late in the day to change things!
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Alison had announced that she would not be at breakfast, she would have it in her room. Keith and Thomas discussed it, but the prospect of the hotel’s well-laden breakfast buffet was too much of a novelty for both. In the end, they ate far too much and after ablutions went out for a walk. The hotel grounds were extensive, so there was a long walk through woodland, and further paths leading off the property were tempting, but they had a timetable. “Enjoying it?” Keith nodded, “I like Al
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Thinking about it, Mother is probably called Susan, though that will only come out in a later chapter.
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Will have to think of a name!
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Mother had been hinting for ages that she’d like to meet Dan properly and that we should come for the weekend. She had met him over lunch on one of her trips to town and the results had been polite, if nerve-wracking. My having a regular boyfriend at all was novelty enough; Mother had been barely exposed to my more active sexual escapades, and what young men there had been in the relatively brief role of boyfriend had been kept well away from her. She had met one, by accident; a rather char
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Keith hadn’t thought about the hotel much at all. It wasn’t far, just 20 minutes up the A1, except of course traffic held them up. But then, as Thomas said, they had all the time in the world. But when Thomas turned off the A64 onto a smaller road, Keith started to wonder what they had let themselves in for. “What’s this place like, then?” “I’ve never been, but I gather it’s an old castle. You can stay in the castle itself, but plebs like us stay in some of the other buildings. They ar
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But way sexier!
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Amanda had a new exhibition at the Tramshed, no nudes this time, and no politics. It was a group show, rural artists, a mixed bunch but some sounded promising, and besides, Amanda always put on a good party. Dan was coming straight from work but would change into one of his new fancy shirts. I think he’d even started to enjoy having some different and interesting clothes to wear, even though the cut of the suit still came in for comment. I’d decided to go ‘full art critic’ with an old tweed jack
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Thomas’ ‘working from home’ turned out to be relatively notional, though he got a good two or three hours done by getting up early with Keith. At one point Keith spied the post van pulling away and went to fetch the post. When he returned, Thomas looked up. “What is it?”, Thomas looked curiously at Keith who was standing with a package, a large jiffy bag, holding it gingerly. “It’s from Maureen Whitacre”, Keith said it hesitatingly, as if he wasn’t sure who she was. Thomas looked expec
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Glad you feel that way about Heyward, that is what I was hoping to achieve.
