About The Junket
The Junket is an online quarterly featuring essays, short fiction and poetry. Founded in 2011, it exists as an excuse for writing: to justify the graft of its making, and indulge the mischief it continues to make.
From the Archive
Matilda Bathurst
Paris Pratique
Paris. Neatly numbered by arrondissements and perfectly hemmed in by the Périphérique, it's a gift for storytelling. While tales of other cities find their charm in a sense of sprawl, the impossibil… Read article
Florence Waters
Grandpa Budgie
Crackers used to fly freely around our old Oxfordshire farmhouse. He was free to escape, but he never did, and free to sit with us, which he did often. His favourite perch was Grandpa Budgie’s head.… Read article
Peter Scott
Gone Fishing
Perhaps I should not have been a fisherman, he thought. But that was the thing that I was born for. (The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemingway) I do not fish. I have fished, I have been fishing, bu… Read article
Sam Kitchener
Duck Soup
The first time I had the honour to meet the late Count Pázmány, I lent him my last 20 korona to pay for a bottle of champagne. He said he needed it, and a cursory appreciation of his somewhat frayed… Read article
Leila Peacock
The Sad Dove Drank Grape Juice
When Mark Twain entitled his satirical essay on learning German ‘The Awful German Language’, he presumably intended ‘awful’ in both senses. German, I have found, is both awfully difficult to l… Read article
From the Current Issue
Molly Taylor
Reluctance
I am happy staying put; not joining in. But your sun-stroked face keeps peeping around the corner of the day room: eyes locked, that fierce smile, your whole heaving body beckoning me to better w… Read article
Katharine Markwick
The Road Ahead
Katrin! You so slow! Look – everyone behind you is piss off! I look in the mirror. A queue of traffic is building up behind me as I head south on the A202. I’m being cautious. No Katrin, … Read article
Nick Hunt
Fung’s
I drove past Fung’s a few days ago. Of course, it isn’t Fung’s now. It’s an empty building surrounded by weeds, an ugly breezeblock shell. There’s plywood over the sliding doors, and a spind… Read article
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