My Dad, writing his first novel “The End of Something Nice” which was published in 1967.
Rusty Portuguese Nails (with a story). In Portugal I slept in a yurt and in that yurt was a stove, and in that stove was some wood (burning) and in that wood were some nails and after a week there was a mighty pile of ashes so I said to myself (I did) time to clean out that stove, and when the cleaning operation commenced I came across a bunch of nails which I laid out nicely in the hope that someone would recycle them which is perhaps what I did with them in a way here.
Inside my brother’s home-made pizza oven, Troporiz, Portugal. I’ve been here for almost two weeks as a volunteer labourer. My job is to weed walls, i.e. clear brambles and moss and 50 years of gunk off stone walls. It’s hard work but good to do now and again; great to get a bit of variety from the routine of typing on a keyboard.
