WANDERING BARD
I sat on the raw wood bench outside the hut. The sun had yet to show from behind the rugged peaks, and the whole big mass of Mount Cevedale
On the Road to Ormskirk I find pavement I have driven before in another state, across a border, across an ocean that divided me from some other place, where I
A Short, Sweet Lesson in French-Muslim History ‘Parfait, Alice!’ Our instructor Guillaume, a French pastry chef, claps his hands in rapturous satisfaction. My twelve-year-old daughter carries on whisking the ganache,
Sleet turned to hail as the sky darkened into evening. An occasional streetlight still functioned, flickering with a dull orange glow, but Tiffany was grateful when the last working lamp
The view from here is the border: the lake, close-up, is vertical. Not so much water as law and order. The word for it might disappear, the road run
Trains. They are still the love of our Japanese life! Since the duck and I take trains pretty regularly now, we’ve had lots of opportunities to make mistakes, and learn
I feel so depressed when I hear: ‘We have to go back to being English.’ What’s that, for heaven’s sake? Those are just words, they don’t give any meaning
