When she @-ed me, naturally my phone buzzed. At that moment, evidently she was on her way to Poland for a semester break and I happened to be standing in that Bristol kitchen shop.
“So, friends, what are we going to do today?”: that was my late uncle’s challenge to himself as he started writing each day.
Bulwer-Lytton lived just up the road from where I’m typing this – at Knebworth House, here in Hertfordshire, England.
The poster you follow and admire today may not even be there tomorrow; he or she could just delete everything and disappear.
Yesterday morning was another one of those late autumn mornings just north of London. As we know, there is a
Technically, I suppose I spent Thanksgiving alone for the first time in my life…
Write a name on social media and that person you mentioned may well see what you’ve written…
Some local English lore for a Friday. A road name. I’d thought a prominent family named “Coward” might have once lived on, or their farm perhaps bordered, what is now the nearby Codicote street of that name:
After an hour or so working in the office yesterday morning, I looked at the PC clock and thought, “Right, I’ll stop for a bit, go downstairs and have a quick shower…”
She was the first (after my wife) to see the rough draft of Passports. I had written it in secret – and, it seemed, usually at “4 o’clock in the mornings” – during 2012-2013…