About John Greer Smith

I was 63 years old when I started writing this Journal. I live in a village in England now. I spent most of my working life in other countries, working in newsrooms or on news assignments. But no-one retires these days, you just can’t afford it. Now I sometimes do shifts for the local newspaper.

Dinner Party at Melanie’s

The dessert at Melanie’s dinner party was cardamom crème brûlée.

“Mia was born with a tag in front of her ear”, Deirdre said.

“What’s a tag?” someone said.

“Like a pimple but quite firm, cartilaginous”.

“Did you have it ligated?” asked Brian from across the table.

“Yes, but I was worried. There was pain. Now we’re trying for another child”, Deirdre said, looking round.

Pete grimaced. He knew we were picturing him “servicing” Deirdre.

“Changing the subject, what is Cantopop?”, asked Melanie.

“Wasn’t there a group called Beyond? The singer got killed in an accident in a TV game show in Japan?” said Mark.

“I’m impressed,” said Melanie.

Why do I remember certain things from an evening of dinner party chatter?

Maybe there’s a reason but I don’t know it.

The 100 billion neurons in my brain are as incomprehensible to me as the 100 sextillion stars in the universe.

Don’t kid yourself. You’re a gossip. Like everyone else.