Strangers calling on a Friday night don’t often bring good news. My wife begged me not to pick up. A tiny voice asked if he was speaking to James Brandon McGirk. I told him he was. “A James Brandon McGirk who was born in London in 1979?” Yes, I replied. Yes, I am. Who’s calling? “A Concerned Citizen was his reply…
2 thoughts on “A Battered Bag of Memories”
Can’t you simply post the entire text here? I’d love to read your story, but am not willing to pay The Chronicle’s extortionist $76 subscription rate for the pleasure of doing so.
Would you like me to email you a copy?
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