Beetroot, Dancing, & Hitler

One of the things in this crazy old life is that you never can tell when you’re going to come face to face with a Nazi hoard. I was round a mate’s house for supper and she was baking beetroots from scratch for a puy lentil salad. Yes that’s right. I do health now. But…

Post Festival Blues

So I’ve got post festival blues like you wouldn’t believe. I’m sloping around at home, leaving a trail of woe like a hormonal slug. The dog is staring at me balefully from the sofa, wondering what happened to his mummy, and I have no answers for him, just an intermittent stream of sighs into his…