A British national newspaper asked the question: “What does it mean to be British?” Hundreds of readers responded…the most interesting reply came from a Swiss gentleman who wrote: Being British is about driving in a German car to an Irish pub for a Belgian beer. Then traveling home – grabbing an Indian curry or a
All posts by Buffy
He died. He died and he reckoned, as a dead man does, that if he’d only had one more space of time, one more year to do it all again, he could set right that one thing he set wrong. Bailey had always been the sort of man who missed the mark. Like when Joe
I adore this woman beyond words. I’m actually getting teary eyed. That’s how big of a dork I am. And P.S. – doesn’t she look just like you’d imagine Scout to look at this age. Author Harper Lee has been presented with America’s highest civilian honour – the Presidential Medal of Freedom – by President
Platinum and diamond Edwardian pin picked up on Portobello Road. Vintage Gucci wallet, 99p at Help the Aged in Cheshire – the elderly lady at the till imagined ‘pounds’ to be a misprint and sold it to me for the pence version. I let her. Because I’m bad. Bless. Complete works of “Artemus Ward”. London.
I blame Sarah and Katy. Some. Those brilliant little kitchen clips and the 400sq.ft sweetheart of a studio. But mostly I blame decor8. My current favourite addiction. Holly Becker’s blog is like a giant espresso. (That’s how psyched up I get.) Full of pinks and pastels and other lovely things. It makes my head hurt
“National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30. Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been
It’s been a while since I’ve had a hallucination (I hate that word, but it simplifies things). Since I’ve had to explain “No, I’m not on drugs. Never have been.” Since I’ve had some people believe me and some people refuse to. Since I’ve sat and wondered: should I even be telling you this. Should
I’ve spent the weekend hiding away in dark corners of dark rooms. With a brain full of tripans and warm bottles of fizzy water. I dreamt alot. Of dead things and secrets. Pulled part from a novel and the fever that’s not. It’s cold and I’m awake because I need to sleep tonight. Otherwise I
Mertsie-Beth looks after her husband’s invalid mother. When she’s not working at the Med Supply or getting her hair done up like Jackie O or doing the hundred other things she thinks up to do to keep from tending to an octogenarian’s bed sores. Eddie says she drugs the old lady with benadryl and pays
He fell. Down the mountain. The one he climbed. For roots. His wife is in the hospital. And when she isn’t, she’s not getting better. His brother … cancer. They’re not thinking about it. Not gonna let it bother them. But it does. It must. His daughter is being biopsied. For the thing that took
