Like you, I am holed up in my flat for the remainder of this pandemic. But unlike my thousands of Facebook friends, millions of followers and three loyal readers, I am thrilled by this situation!
Thanksgiving. A time to reflect on all we have … food, family, friends and football (the one played with hands). I don’t actually watch football (either kind), but lots of Americans watch it on Thanksgiving weekend and it begins with an “f”, so I added it to the list.
Research shows that smell, touch and taste are strong evokers of nostalgia. Marcel Proust’s cookie broke in 1913 and it caused him to write seven ridiculously long and unreadable volumes.
As a young boy, I went to camp with Jeffrey Epstein. I want to disclose that the Jeffrey Epstein I went to camp with, befriended, and shared a bunk bed with was not the same Jeffrey Epstein who committed suicide over this past weekend.
Thank you British films and British actresses. Thank you Lily James and Felicity Jones and Kate Winslet and Emma Watson and Keira Knightley and you too, Audrey Hepburn (born in Belgium, but British to me).
Here’s my burning question for Theresa May: Where are your balls? You’re an outgoing Prime Minister with absolutely nothing to lose and absolutely everything to gain, including your dignity. And you do nothing!