It's not until you move away that you realise how utterly bizarre the place you grew up is and how different life is elsewhere. Unless you choose to live in some kind of bubble, surrounded by people of your own kind, your brain will be rebooted. Which can only be a good thing. The one …
The Bedsit People. Part 4.
Giuseppe is a stocky, balding man, in his early 50s. A nervous, straightforward kind of guy, a bit of a brute. Quintessential Italian, laddish at times, especially when talking about women. An old-fashioned type, an eccentric entrepreneur, a go-getter. When I say stocky I don’t necessarily mean that he’s fat. He keeps himself in good …
The Bedsit People. Part 3.
Lots of first times lately. First time I hear the word concierge. First job, first paycheck. First time I wear a suit and a tie. They didn’t have a suit my size, so they gave me one the next size up. It’s so baggy that it makes me look like an idiot. On top of …
The Bedsit People. Part 2.
It’s like being born again. With no artifice. No fanfare. The howl of burning rubber and the muffled sound of a flight attendant announce the start of a new chapter. I’ve shelved the previous one, twenty years of cute, harmless little events. None of that really matters at this point. There’s a new world, a …
The Bedsit People. Part 1.
Dead end street, W2. Number 34. The carpet has recently been replaced, badly. There are small gaps here and there and the odd nail head sticking out - bright silver dots in a winding river of dark burgundy. Excess matting rests against the wall in every corner. It doesn't silence the squeaking and creaking, which …
(Zapa) 
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