Postcards from Kronk - the second collection of daily stories. (2025)

A man who looks rather too like Oliver Hardy for my liking has become my boss. He is neither witty nor world weary but is actually, quite insufferable and is forever taking time off. Apparently, within the last three months he has unearthed the remains of a creature he calls the real 'Yeti', decrytped the hidden meanings behind a number of key Greek sculptures and only last week claimed to have found the tail fin of a second UFO. Whilst he's off making all these discoveries, it's me that's having to man the desk at the lighting section of John Lewis. I hope someone recognises his gifts soon so I can get back to napping in the store room.

The charred remants of the Hilltop Club gave a gothic silhouette to the photograph Avery had just taken. Few details were clear although he could clearly see the metal spiral staircase still standing, alone. Closing his eyes Avery saw the arsonist climbing up it, hands leaving petrol prints on the handrail, escaping into the sky. The logic of television: surely it was important, the only object left intact. Whilst the investigator puzzled this, 27 miles away, on the coast, a young lighthouse keeper, filling in long hours studying a distance learning Sociology Diploma  puts the finishing touches to a simplistic account of the disintegration of working class social life, completely unaware of the dramatic events heading his way.

We sit and watch the recording of the last conversation our Prime Minister gave, the sound drops out occasionally and the lighting is by candle light. And you are sure of what you bring to me ? Yes Pm            really slipped into Africa ?     afraid so I see, and the        ship above us..? Is taking one human man every      days and still we don't know       .          the fox I heard last night, outside, the one I always hear,      that seems to mock me,     have your men found out ? Nothing yet Pm,       as ephemeral as smoke , I have no news for you yet         by Monday you shall or         the aliens take you before I      . So shall it be Pm One last       George ? Yes ? When will it be safe for me to leave this     ...

I placed my card in the reader and realised almost at once it was too early. The swollen face on the raised platform before me narrowed her slits of eyes. " I've given up, don't bother any more telling em to wait, just let them work it out for themselves." I apologised and desperately searched for a suitable piece of small talk, to smooth over the tension between us. " huh, yeah, guess you have to " A poor attempt but at least it made sense, she smiled back, ripped off a reciept which she layed aside and then a second which was handed over. Turning to leave I walked into a display of poor quality gadgets and oversized chocolate bars. " I can't help you luv, did my hip in , at the nursing home, can you believe it, no wonder I'm a miserable old sod, eh? " I was willing to bet her disposition hadn't radically changed since this incident, but thought better of it. " They really are awful places aren't they, absolute hideous...

She huffs at me again for my latest failure and in turn I try to make my expression less annoying and pretend to listen. Pretty soon all my faults will be seen as the small beans they truly are when compared to the maelstrom that is about to descend upon us. I'd read an email, sent in error, my username being remarkably similar to a member of the government. In June the shadow cabinet is to be reshuffled. Now, I don't do current affairs or science but I've never heard a more ominous sounding phrase than 'shadow cabinet'. I check the computer screen , just been outbid for one of the last available nuclear bunkers. I make a move to the keyboard but as I do so the screen dies. Sound behind me. I'm not sure if she's laughing or furious, standing there holding the plug in her hand. Need to act fast. " Darling, " I say, " I have something to tell you "

She was blessed and she never forgot that, Huda Azra Ibrahim Nunu, the first ever female Jew to appointed Ambassador by an Arab nation. That was what she'd always thought she'd be remembered for, long after her body had returned to the soil. Looks like she was wrong. The Jewish community in Bahrain only numbers 37 people now, the exodus having started shortly after the second world war when the oppression and repression became too much to bear. But her fmaily had stayed, and she'd survived and blosomed, becoming the dutiful Ambassador, wheeled out as necessary, to show the inclusivity and progressive nature of the new regime. She'd smiled and bowed and laughed and clapped. Shown strength but not aggression, biding her time. She looks at the document ,her signature curvy and confident, clear, nothing spidery or evasive about it. The best things in life grow slowly, advice sagely offered by her Grandmother when as an 8 year old girl Huda had been ...

The lift door opened. And that wouldn't have been too bad if I couldn't hear a tiger roar. I stood there unable to move, counting the decisions I could have taken to avoid ending up trapped in a lift in a hotel. Of course it wasn't a tiger but the cry of a thousand angry men storming the building, searching for the last of the water. I'm going to stand here for ever, that's what ill do.