The History Man
I recognised Jeffery the moment he walked through the door, even though I hadn’t seen him for forty-four years. He…
The Blikkaba life
The road less travelled
London
5am. Milkman rattling-carted clinking-bottled stop-starting up the avenues and roads, the streets and mews cobblestones. The timer on a million…
Art house love affair
During the pandemic we have watched lots of films but the TV screen can never replicate the experience of plush,…
The pursuit of happiness
Whoever said that the best things in life are free had clearly never sipped a Dry Martini in the American…
Signature
The cottage was just outside Braemar, self-styled capital of the Scottish Highlands. Up the road was Balmoral. This was whisky…
Don the Bastard
Haircuts. They are on my mind a lot recently. As my hair sprouts from my head in all directions except…
No longer feeding the fire
“I’d like you to write me a speech to help explain to my team why they aren’t going to get…
The Night Train
Sleeper trains are glamorous. Cary Grant used one as an escape route from New York when he was being pursued…
The night swim
The boat was moored about 150 metres off the shore and the skipper had gone to bed. She took me…
Pint
Beer. Beer has been companion from the age of sixteen when I first discovered the stuff at Hudson’s the pub…