Fireside Tales

A crackling log fire reminds me of many things.  Loved-up evenings on the sofa in front of a crackling fire binge watching box sets and eating a ridiculous amount of chocolate, without realising it.   My childhood, growing up in an age before Social Media, playing cards in front of the fire during long winter evenings; my big brother and parents always let me win.  As someone who functions much better during the summer months, a burning fire makes the winter bearable, it is the pumping heart of a home.

Hangover Head Banger

During one fiery party in a briefly parentless home, my friend's twelve-year-old brother volunteered act as bartender as we availed ourselves to the contents of the parentibus abessent's drinks cupboard.  I asked for a gin and bitter lemon.  What I actually got was a lethal concoction, which tasted like bitter lemon but had enough alcohol in it to fell a 16-stone rugby player and I was given more than one.

Carpe Diem – New Year’s Resolution to Start Blogging Again

Cassie The Blog Dog and I have just been for a walk. Cassie to burn off some her exuberant joie de vivre and me to burn off the calories and the after effects of last night's plummy little Merlot. The sun was out, albeit a watery glow in the sky. I walked and she tore through the fields like a gazelle about to go into orbit. She is a joy to watch and I wish I had an nth of her va va voom.

Tales from the African Bush

Whilst on safari, I lost weight fairly quickly and it wasn't just to do with the heat. After enjoying a sundowner watching impala gambol happily in the bush, we would return to camp to find them on the dinner menu, which was just too hard to swallow. The only time I have ever been offered a gin and tonic for breakfast at 5.00a.m. was on safari and it was the only time I have ever refused one, sensibly realising I was getting enough quinine in my anti-malarial tablets.

TRACING MY ROOTS – Finding out more about My Greek Genes

From my Life to Date and How I've Survived It Collection of Stories A few years ago one of my Australian cousins spent some considerable time tracing my father's side of the family back to 860.  I'm not quite sure how she managed to establish that we are all descendants of Bernard The Dane, but impressive... Continue Reading →

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