It wasn’t easy to give it up, but it wasn’t too hard either. I attended weddings, birthday parties, even a debaucherous stag weekend in Hamburg. Not a single hangover. Well done me.
As I was scrolling through the online comments below a newspaper article recently, I saw one particular comment that made me stop and think. So I noted it down, and here we are. I can’t remember the subject of the article, but the comment read something a little like this: “All this public soul-searching and
Ladies and Gentlemen, please let me introduce you to an old friend, and occasional foe. My lovelife. I should advise you, dear reader, that I could, and probably eventually will, fill twenty blogs posts charting the ups and downs of my romantic endeavours. However, I’ve been advised that my last two posts were “a bit
Let me start by apologising to you, dear reader, for I fear this post will only be half as good as it may have been. Reason for that later on. It might also be twice as long as it may have been. Reason for that – my ‘editor’ has swanned off on holiday for 2
I’m on holiday. If I want three eggs, scrambled, with bacon, and spinach, and mushrooms, and tomatoes, I’m going to have it
Was jumping on the back of a horse and galloping off to pastures new considered in the same in dreamy, romantic manner that aerospace travel is today?
A conversation with a colleague a few weeks ago prompted me to add an item to my list of potential blog post topics. Clearly we didn’t have enough work on that day. We were discussing the closeness you feel when you hug a friend or family member who has known you a long time, a
A colleague of mine, let’s call her Naomi (she’s not called Naomi), called me a “sensitive soul” last week. It wasn’t in response to witnessing England’s World Cup dreams falter and die, but a light bulb did go off in my head. I talked in a previous post of how I was on the lookout
I should advise you, dear reader, that this post is mostly informative. As I started typing I worried about how I might be able to make this an interesting, entertaining post. I mean, it’s not the Truman Show-esqe glimpse into my being, like some of my other recent pieces. Then I slapped myself across the
Roughly a year ago, a friend of mine, let’s call her Nina (she’s not called Nina), told me now was the time for me to read a book called The Alchemist. So I did. The Alchemist was written by a Brazilian chap called Paulo Coelho, and published in 1988. It has gone on to become