Monthly Archives: April 2007

So where’s the silver lining? Above you see our “back garden” at home, where to play swingball you have to position the water-filled base carefully so as not to bash a wall, another wall, a shed door, or your opponent. … Continue reading →

Perhaps if I were smaller, and furrier, the children would want to cuddle me more often. They certainly lavish lots of squeezy hugs on the poor little guineas, who’d rather be foraging happily in their marvellous new enclosure, pretending to … Continue reading →

It’s another day in paradise and Mike sets off to buy croissants. He returns just minutes after leaving, tight-faced, arms flapping, mouth stretched into a grimace. “What’s happened?” I ask, assuming he’s forgotten his keys, his glasses, or perhaps even … Continue reading →

I once found a baby guinea pig underneath a parked car on my way home from a night out. It shrieked like a car alarm when I stopped and picked it up. None of the nearby householders laid claim to … Continue reading →

Ever heard of Agent Cody Banks? No, thought not. I have. In fact I’ve endured his Baby Bond antics almost every day since we got here. It’s become the new Tots TV. I know every last nuance of the plot … Continue reading →

Out of the two of us, Mike is the one who finds, buys, collects and stashes in our attic, numerous board games from the nineteen-fifties onwards. He also follows all sports involving men with balls of varying shapes and sizes, … Continue reading →

  At last, time has caught up with my watch, which has persistently remained on French summer time since August last year, resisting all my attempts to bring it back into line with Greenwich. Now though, in France for Easter, … Continue reading →

Questions, questions, questions Bears can’t make pancakes, can they? Why can’t we see God? I’m worn down, tired out. Answers My head is fizzy from questions. Do mermaids have bottoms? Tails they do. Hannah’s Rituals Ben prays every night at … Continue reading →

Keir Royale » Jersey Cow And it was at the Weighbridge that I got onto a bus one day and found, scrawled on the back of one of the seats “Cathy Keir is a slag”. It was a shock, … … Continue reading →