Escapism ‘Reading is the cheapest form of education’ was a favourite cliché of my mother. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder whether this particular gem was born out of wisdom or the reality that there wasn’t too much in the way of an economic alternative available. As I’ve mentioned before, my schooldays weren’t my happiest years; I was a runt of a child, skinny to the point of emaciation, overly sensitive and painfully shy. As a result, I favoured books more than the normal interaction other kids seemed to enjoy via… Read More
I discovered the above quite by accident recently whilst visiting friends. Among their magazines was one of those ‘Woman’s’ shock and shudder numbers, not tucked under the mattress like an early ‘Playboy’ should be, or trimmed of its cover for reputation’s sake. Without compromising myself in any way, I admit that I’ve ‘done a few miles’, so to speak, and there’s not much shock value out there left with my name on it, but flicking through this little gem I realised, somewhat sadly, that much of life’s more titillating pathways didn’t show… Read More
I hate people who say ‘I told you so!’ but I did tell u (sorry) so! And since my first warning to you, Mr Apple and Co have put the boot in even further to what remains of our youngsters’ language skills. Doubtless the Concise Oxford Dictionary, as is its wont in recent times, will be quick to spread the latest form of linguistic sepsis just to prove that a bunch of academic wordsmiths are up with the times. What on earth can those who are charged with protecting and promoting language… Read More
Elizabeth, What have I done to make you hate me? I have always loved you, provided for you, and yet, that’s just not enough. I don’t ask for much in return, simply love, kindness and respect. Instead, you choose to ridicule me in my own home in front of our very dear friends.
Back From the Jaws of Death Avid readers of this blog will remember my brush with death which led to my hospitalisation and my urge to write a list of musical favourites. Eventually and happily, the emergency ward folk decided that the bloke with the scythe had decided to give me a miss and I was trundled, still wired and plugged, to a holding ward for ‘overnight observation’. They’re many things these emergency doctors, but gamblers they ain’t. Having sorted out my musical bucket list, there was little to do in the… Read More