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Playing Nice de JP Delaney
20.50 CHF
Date de parution : 07.2020
Format : Broché
Nombre de pages : 416
Résumé : Werbeplakat für Herbst/Winter 2016, beidseitig bedruckt, DIN A3, quer Zur Platzierung im vorgesehenen Acryl-Rahmen an der Möbelrückwand Leseprobe Pete It was just an ordinary day. If this were a color piece or a feature, the kind of thing I used to write on a daily basis, the editor would have rejected it just for that opening sentence. Openers need to hook people, Pete, she’d tell me, tossing my pages back at me across my desk. Paint a picture, set a scene. Be dramatic. In travel journalism especially, you need a sense of place. Take me on a journey. So: It was just an ordinary day in Willesden Green, north London. Because the fact is, before that knock on my door, it was just an ordinary day. An unusually nice one, admittedly. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and blue. There was still some snow on the ground, hiding in corners, but it had that soft sugary look snow gets when it’s all but melted, and none of the kids streaming into the Acol Road Nursery and Preschool could be bothered to get their mittens wet trying to scoop it up for snowballs. Actually, there was one small thing out of the ordinary. As I took Theo into the nursery, or rather followed him in—we’d given him a scooter for his second birthday, a chunky three-wheeler he was now inseparable from—I noticed three people, a woman and two men, on the other side of the road, watching us. The younger man was roughly my age, thirty or so. The other was in his fifties. Both wore dark suits with dark woolen coats over them, and the woman, a blonde, was wrapped up in a kind of fake-fur parka, the sort of thing you might see on a fashionable ski slope. They looked too smart for our part of London. But then I saw that the older man was holding a document case in his gloved hand. An estate agent, I guessed, showing some prospective buyers the local childcare facilities. The Jubilee Line goes all the way from our Tube station to Canary Wharf, and even the bankers have been priced out of West Hampstead these days. Something about the younger man seemed familiar. But then I was distracted by Jane Tigman, whose son Zack was already starting to thrash and scream in her arms at the prospect of being left. She hadn’t realized that the trick is to make sure they walk into nursery on their own rather than being carried, which simply makes the moment of separation...
Format : Broché
Nombre de pages : 416
Résumé : Werbeplakat für Herbst/Winter 2016, beidseitig bedruckt, DIN A3, quer Zur Platzierung im vorgesehenen Acryl-Rahmen an der Möbelrückwand Leseprobe Pete It was just an ordinary day. If this were a color piece or a feature, the kind of thing I used to write on a daily basis, the editor would have rejected it just for that opening sentence. Openers need to hook people, Pete, she’d tell me, tossing my pages back at me across my desk. Paint a picture, set a scene. Be dramatic. In travel journalism especially, you need a sense of place. Take me on a journey. So: It was just an ordinary day in Willesden Green, north London. Because the fact is, before that knock on my door, it was just an ordinary day. An unusually nice one, admittedly. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and blue. There was still some snow on the ground, hiding in corners, but it had that soft sugary look snow gets when it’s all but melted, and none of the kids streaming into the Acol Road Nursery and Preschool could be bothered to get their mittens wet trying to scoop it up for snowballs. Actually, there was one small thing out of the ordinary. As I took Theo into the nursery, or rather followed him in—we’d given him a scooter for his second birthday, a chunky three-wheeler he was now inseparable from—I noticed three people, a woman and two men, on the other side of the road, watching us. The younger man was roughly my age, thirty or so. The other was in his fifties. Both wore dark suits with dark woolen coats over them, and the woman, a blonde, was wrapped up in a kind of fake-fur parka, the sort of thing you might see on a fashionable ski slope. They looked too smart for our part of London. But then I saw that the older man was holding a document case in his gloved hand. An estate agent, I guessed, showing some prospective buyers the local childcare facilities. The Jubilee Line goes all the way from our Tube station to Canary Wharf, and even the bankers have been priced out of West Hampstead these days. Something about the younger man seemed familiar. But then I was distracted by Jane Tigman, whose son Zack was already starting to thrash and scream in her arms at the prospect of being left. She hadn’t realized that the trick is to make sure they walk into nursery on their own rather than being carried, which simply makes the moment of separation...
Réf. | 001-9780593159859 |
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EAN | 9780593159859 |
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