David Hadley's Blog

The Danger of Stories

This is what comes from telling stories all my life. I can no longer remember what was true and what I made up. I would tell stories in each village I passed through, for food, ale and somewhere to sleep. Then then the women came to me in the night, looking for a further tastes

The Luton Budgie

Denouement Spadework was probably the UK’s leading private detective in the early post WWII period. Most of the time, of course, he worked on seedy divorces and other such bread and butter cases. Mostly just scraping by with enough left over by the end of the week for him to buy a bottle of whiskey,s

None of it is True

This is not going to be one of those stories about what could have been. Nor is it going to be about what ought to have been. Then again, it is not a story about what was. None of this ever happened. At least it didn’t’ happen this way… no matter what she tells you.s

Interesting Things 27/05/2020

A miscellany of recent interesting links:   A Deep and Painful Misunderstanding about How Economies Work Tribute paid to virtue The public must lead us out of the lockdown Solving the problem of dogs stuck to the ceiling Negotiations: The European Union has never been entirely rational  

Interesting Things 25/05/2020

A miscellany of recent interesting links:   Entirely true, but do we want to? ‘This is international hysteria’ The death of the HR department Dominic Cummings broke the lockdown? Good Post Corbyn Labour Still Can’t Define Itself This GDP Stuff Really Matters, You Know? Do We Really Want a New Cold War? The Growing Evidence on Vitamins

Domestication of the Wild Hairstylist

Back in those far off days, enormous tribes of hairstylists would sweep majestically over the wide-open plains of this ancient and noble land, often scaring the Romans and frightening the Vikings. Later, no Middle-Age city-centre was safe from the late night deprecations of these fearsome savages and many a medieval innocent shopping trolley was sacrificeds

The Emperor’s Favourite

She had a name. It was not the name given by her father at her birth as tradition demanded. Sometimes it felt as though that first name and the life it lived belonged to someone else. Moonmist. That girl stopped existing a long time ago. There had been other names since. Sometimes Shala had troubles

Them Again

Anyway Or not. So, well here we are then. Are you sitting comfortably? Not that Im all that interested really. After all, I wrote this quite a while before you decided on your current seating arrangements, and I am off now doing something exciting with a bevy of nubile young research assistants on an exotics

Never the Same

From those days on, it was never the same. How could it be? Grenil had lost everything she had ever known and so the world, and her life in it, could never be the same. At least shed avoided the fate of the other girls and young women of her village. Shed watched from thes

Lawyer Whelping Boxes

I remember it well. One day, late in the 1970s, suddenly there it was, resplendent, laid out in all its glory and slightly less florid around the edges than the advertising brochure would have you believe. Of course, I have seen many wild lawyer nests in my life up to then. But this was s