“Basically you’ve run away.” The words slipped out, loosened by the Burns Night whisky; I called it Talisker-tongue. I immediately feared that branding her a runaway may not have been the most sensitive thing to say, but S. didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, she giggled delightedly. “Yes, I suppose you could say that, … Continue reading Runaway
“Could you send me the name of the wine you brought when you came for dinner the other night?” Ping. Back came an immediate response: “Canny Mind.” Gone are the days of wines being named after the vineyard, the land where the grapes are grown or the winemaker himself. Château Des Maures, Cloudy Bay and … Continue reading Canny Mind
My walls are being rattled, my ceilings tremble as they’re pounded from above, and loud thuds are studding my early morning dreams. I suppose it can't be sovery early when the builders get going, up there, with their sledge-hammers and mattocks, but I’m no early riser. ‘Up there’ is the flat above me, where - … Continue reading Rattle Your Walls
