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In some ways it's hard to remember what "normal", pre-pandemic life was like, but if you concentrate hard enough I'm sure ...

A couple of further notes following the last three book posts: firstly while I'd had The Pope's Rhinoceros knocking around on my sh...

To Have And Have Not by Ernest Hemingway. Harry Morgan is a man. A man with a boat. A boat with many uses. The use that Harry wants to put i...

No Great Mischief by Alistair MacLeod. It's the 1970s (or possibly the early 1980s) and Alexander MacDonald is driving from his home in...

The Pope's Rhinoceros by Lawrence Norfolk. It's not easy being Pope. Never mind getting paintings done properly , there is the bore...

Just to continue the theme of misheard or garbled lyrics, I found myself humming a tune to myself in the kitchen the other day which turned ...

A couple of footnotes to the B-52s post : firstly the nostril-flaring mouth-open pose I caught Fred Schneider in reminded me of something, ...

I suppose this is one of those "I was today years old when " posts, in which someone reveals some bullshit "fact" abou...

A couple of whisky items in the cupboard to catch up on - I had a gratifying number of bottles for Christmas and my birthday, as I often do,...

A Mind To Murder by PD James. The Steen Clinic is a reputable psychiatric institution in central London, a venue of choice for the well-hee...

World's End by TC Boyle. It's 1968 and Walter van Brunt is doing some standard carefree hippy shit: caning a few beers at a local b...

It was our tenth wedding anniversary at the weekend so Hazel and I managed to wangle a quick break away (specifically, away from the kids, ...

But what, you'll have been thinking, has been going on in the spicy noodle arena? We don't seem to have heard about that for a whil...

The Other by Thomas Tryon. The small town of Pequot Landing, Connecticut, seems like an idyllic place for a family to live, especially two ...