Sometimes I take photos. Some people like to snap the mountains and the lake and the sun setting behind a grove of really spooky trees. But I’ve never seen a landscape that made me want to run home and grab my camera. I’d rather sit and take it all in and look up at a
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The sister and I were talking about style last night. Not the ‘Fashion Week’ type. The Tolstoy, Faulkner and Hardy type. A family member once accused me of letting life pass by while my head was stuck in a book. Clearly, said family member didn’t understand me. At all. The sister did. Maybe it was
With food prices rising, Haiti’s poorest can’t afford even a daily plate of rice, and some take desperate measures to fill their bellies. Traditional Haitian remedy for hunger pangs: cookies made of dried yellow dirt, salt and vegetable shortening. For some, these have now become regular meals. AP Photos How do we sit here and
I used his laptop to check my mail this morning. The last google search: “common cold.” I almost laughed. But didn’t. We get a cold. They get acute viral nasopharyngitis. Otherwise known as man-flu. It’s not deadly. But he’ll try to convince you it is. (Apparently he’s also run it through YouTube. He just sent
Sister: If they ever find me dead, it’s a meat salesman called Dudley Dooright, or Doolittle, or DooSomething, who did it. Me: Huh? Sister: He comes to my door every afternoon. Trying to sell me burgers and stuff. I told him we’re vegetarians but he keeps coming back. Me: Just don’t open the door. Sister:
You know that feeling you get when you’ve just done something incredibly difficult and un-doable? That sense of elation and accomplishment that settles into you like really good scotch? I have that feeling now.
I’ve given away over a dozen copies of Gavin de Becker’s book, The Gift of Fear. If you know me, and I haven’t bought you one, I’ve probably lent you mine or told you to go get it. Now. I first fell upon The Gift in the late nineties as a postgraduate student at Manchester.
My sister’s birthday was last week. She wasn’t 30 – or anywhere near – but I sent her a huge card with a compromising photo of herself (think: ‘shower cap and wild game’) that said she was. I didn’t get a thank you, but I did get a there are no words, which I took
Sister: “So I was watching American Idol last night and you know what? Simon Cowell really does remind me of him.” Me: “I did say.” Sister: “Except Him’s nicer.” Me: “No he isn’t. He just likes you. That’s all.” The very same ‘Him’ and I got in to it last night. Him: “Why did you
After watching Jane Austen’s finest (version 2005) and developing not a little crush on Matthew Macfadyen… I’ve spent hours-into-days staring slack jawed at the Painted Hall. Wanting to touch, but not touch, the Veiled Vestal. Wishing the huge yew maze was large enough to get lost in. (It really isn’t.) It’s this thing you do
