Category: Sam Youd

Oh dear

She stared helplessly at the parcels, each with its neat, mimeographed label: Tennyson Glebe Publications Ltd., 36, Regency Gardens, S.W.7. ‘There’s such a lot of them.’ The front door was standing open. The milkman came...

Little surprises

I kicked one of the parcels lying beside my feet. ‘Well, these are yours now. That’s all I’m concerned with. You can get rid of them as soon as you like.’ He pulled another copy...

Range Round-Up

On Saturday there was chaos. One of the Irish printers had somehow managed to mix up my private and registered addresses, and despatched an entire consignment of Range Round-Up to Number 36. They were dumped...

The world’s a transit camp

‘You think I’ve given up the idea – of going to Presley.’ I said: ‘Have you?’ ‘I don’t know.’ He half turned to look out of the window towards the flickering, grey sky. In profile...

coffee in bed donne leibniz

Now you know you have my blessing

‘I’d like to come in on the Wednesday séances. Howard would probably be willing to change. There wouldn’t be any objection to that, would there?’ I said: ‘So it’s getting serious?’ He asked: ‘What is?’...

I knew who had come

I was content to wait now. I waited, relaxed on small haunches, in the west corner, the one from which the mechanical airship used to set out on its jerky, wire-suspended flight towards the patient...

A whisper challenging

Olivia said uncertainly: ‘What’s happening?’ I said: ‘It’s quite simple, Livia. There’s a very little man in the middle of the trumpet blowing air two ways at once. He must be double-headed.’ The last record...

Someone touched me!

Olivia cried out. Her voice was nervous, but not convincing. She said: ‘What touched me? Someone touched me.’ Piers’s tittering laugh answered her. ‘We didn’t. I didn’t.’ She said, hopelessly: ‘Perhaps it was nothing.’ Something...

Is there anybody there?

Piers put the record on the turn-table. He lifted the tone-arm back, clicking it into spinning motion. Holding the tone-arm between thumb and finger, he said: ‘It’s an S.P.R. thing. The record of a Direct...