When I were a lad, back in the days when intrepid hunters posed with their boots atop a fallen velociraptor, I used to dream of having a Ford Zodiac.
Yesterday I took advantage of the sunshine to spend some time in my garden. Newspaper on my knee, Sam the daft cat lying on his back next to me with is feet in the air, silently challenging me to a game of dodge-claw, just breathing in its peace and quiet. It made for a very nice contrast with the seismic upheavals shortly to afflict or rescue the country depending on how you view it.
It’s that time of the year again; the first day of the Wimbledon fortnight, and the first thing I do at this time of the morning – it’s 6:23 as it happens – is to thank the sequence of unlikely events since the Big Bang which have resulted in me being able to sit on my bum on a Monday afternoon and watch it.
Tribalism is a funny thing, and will no doubt crop up again in various posts, and while its links to football are as obvious as the nose on your face – no offence intended if your hooter is, shall we say, not to be sneezed at – I hadn’t considered how I might use it to my personal advantage.
Hot, isn’t it. No? Well, it is here, and everything has stopped because we can’t cope with temperatures pushing … well, nothing special to be honest.
This column for the excellent Expatriate Lifestyle magazine appeared in the May 2015 edition
Some idiot reversed into my car in Tesco’s car park. That, I expect, is what the owner of the car behind me in Tesco’s car park probably said when he got home. He might well have added an adjective or two to describe the idiot in greater detail, but the editor’s Big Red Pen of Purity won’t let me speculate in print.
This column for the excellent Expatriate Lifestyle magazine appeared in the October 2010 edition
Caring sometimes involves telling it like it is, expressing hard truths that those with less emotional attachment might leave unspoken. And so it was that, straight out, I informed young Sam – he’s only seven – that he was fat. I didn’t like doing so, not with the obvious implications for his self-esteem and lifestyle, and I didn’t know how he was going to take it, but it had to be done; no beating about the bush. In the end, his reaction was, on the whole, quite muted. He looked at me, with that enigmatic expression he so often wears, leaned forwards slightly, and licked my nose.
I have just finished writing my monthly column for the excellent Expatriate Lifestyle magazine, and it is on the subject of Winter. It brought to mind one that I wrote before, on the very different, and for me much more pleasant subject of Spring. Here it is. It was published in April 2010 …
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