Cooking for blokes. Every now and then, if it is raining so we cannot get out in the garden and Long Suffering Wife has exhausted her list of things that need doing round the house, I get the urge to be creative and cook something. More specifically, I feel the need to make a batch of soup, an endeavour tolerated by L.S.W. with various caveats - that I must not use the wotzit pan, use…
Glenrothes: the graveyard of dreams. Last night I dreamt I went to Glenrothes again. I have always disliked Glenrothes. It is not in the infinity of confusing roundabouts that take you from one side of the town to the other without ever arriving anywhere that my animosity lies, and don’t even think of venturing off the main roads into one of the estates, you could be there for days, endlessly circulating. No. It is the memory of…
The safety pin job. The only photo I have of my paternal grandfather shows him sitting stiffly in a deck chair on some beach. He is wearing his hat, best shoes, a dark suit, shirt and tie. By the standards of the day, I presume, he is well turned out, even if he looks excruciatingly uncomfortable. I know that feeling.
Banned from the Metropole! We have been barred from the Metropole! There is a wonderful apartment in Whitby, right on the cliff edge overlooking the beach and the harbour. It is spacious, well equipped and very warm despite its very exposed position. It also has a red stain on the carpet in the hall which was not there before we arrived.
The Cruel Game “Do you have a game tonight?” asks Long Suffering Wife. I think I detect a note of optimism in the tone of her question. I suspect an evening of unrestricted access to the TV remote will more than compensate for my absence. In my diary it says “Castlehill C away Dundee”. I hand her the remote. This is not an insignificant journey. Our chess team consists of the captain who plays a reasonable…
Murder most fowl! I have just witnessed a brutal murder. It happened in the garden right in front of us. This is the perpetrator, but the guilt is mine