Storytime with Houdi – All Cried Out…

A miserable Sunday afternoon, hailstones bounced off the single glazed windows like crystal bismuth, the house colder than a Cavan-man’s wallet. The coal supply exhausted mid month. We had burned the last of the orange crates taken from the supermarket we were working in. A week away from a payslip, in pecuniary despair, living on cornflakes, beans on toast and Lyons Tea. We stared at the rented TV screen as Alison Moyet empathised with us, emerging barefoot out of a ... Read more...