As The Moon Glimmered over Worswick - a fragment from the short story: 'Worswick St. #1'

“Undefined Undefined Undefined Underfined.”

Undefined never liked them anyway. She stubbed out her unlit cigarette- she across the way like an epileptic fit. The near-by Punjabi illuminated sporadically the redbrick Street and the flickering window display of ‘As the moon glimmered over Worsick’. She had etc. as it traipsed off into faint traces. Her countenance had suddenly shifted, till She strolled passed the flickering Take-away, smiling at the cocktail of cumin.
The indigestion was gone and she made a beeline for the Bridge. She had already picked out one of the pale white Lampposts to stand under and not smoke another cigarette.

Only Fifty minutes ago she had stared (That Guinea at the Bissau jazz &) at the man she loved in the disused Worsick St. Bus Station, not even an hour ago. He told her he didn't love her anymore but maintained the eyes of a saint.
She was a little proud that she didn’t cry.

Hair On: Mashes (two varieties)

HAIR ON: RECIPES FROM OLDER RELATIVES
Great Aunt Cally says "Once we were playing the Monster Game and someone drew an apple for the head of one of the monsters. We were playing the Monster Game to fill up the time before teatime. Because someone had drawn an apple-head we tore out the little piece of paper around the picture of the apple with a face and persuaded Mam to boil it with all the fruit and mash it into the apple sauce. I dont know why she let us! Normally she'd have said 'Dont be silly'. Mind you, it did take SOME persuading. No-one could taste the picture and ink but it was exciting, like we were eating something that would write on the inside of our stomachs. That was the most important pork&apple sauce I've ever had, and I'm 87."

HAIR ON: MASHING CARAVANS
Caravans are about one and a half feet above the ground and this means that when they are taken away and mashed it is hard to do an impression of when you were inside and you walked from the fridge along to the sink and back again. There is now a line in mid-air at the level of your kneecaps. But if you do the impression by standing on your kneecaps you double the problem.

I Found This Writing At The Back Of My Oven

I found this writing scratched into the back of my oven, at the top, to the right:

I WASNT SHOUTING I WAS JUST ASKING YOU
WHAT Y - WANTED FOR TEA

It was a bit late, but before I finished what I was doing I went back and swapped for the lemon-flavoured oven cleaner, it being the more edible of the two.