Strangers, and the Friends Who Turn Up

A woman three doors down propped her kitchen door open every Sunday. She never once asked anybody in. A man sat by a vending machine at three in the morning, his wife's handbag on his knees. A friend who has been late to everything for thirty years sat in a hospital car park from half past one, in his slippers.

These essays are about people like them. Most of being there for somebody is turning up.

• 20 Oct, 2026 Nobody Had Given Him a Time

  My friend since we were eleven has been late for thirty years. At four in the morning he was in the hospital car park in his slippers. Nobody asked him.

• 19 Oct, 2026 A Crossword in Pen, or Doing Things Scared

  My first flight in twenty years, and the woman in 14B took my hand and kept doing her crossword. How to do things when you're scared: with it, in the next seat.

• 18 Oct, 2026 Coins Only: Why It's Easier to Talk to Strangers

  Three in the morning by a vending machine, a man with his wife's handbag on his knees. It's easier to talk to strangers. With a stranger there's nobody to be.

• 17 Oct, 2026 See You Sunday

  On Sundays a neighbour left her kitchen door open. For three years I walked by, waiting to be asked in. She never asked anybody. She just never shut the door.

Topics Doing Nothing, Without the Guilt · A Simple Life, on Purpose · Enjoying the Little Things · Checking My Phone Without Meaning To · Sunday Night Dread, and Other Things at 3am