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All posts in category: Friends

Whatever happened to bath time?

  • May 14, 2023
  • Fasion Health & Beauty Friends Sex
  • View all 1 Comment
Why...

Do I nearly always shower? A long soak in the tub comes from an era when things were less hurried. Bath time for me now evokes a period in England that is ‘mid Agatha Christie’. Milk was delivered to your door and fruit flavoured ice lollies contained no actual fruit, only additives. Women wore A line skirts and no one ever swore on TV. Any form of ablution was to be enjoyed, be it a bath full of ducks, battleships or even other playmates! And nearly always at the end of the day so you could take as long as wanted. Morning showers have sort of crept up on me as the only way to clean. I have lived for two years in this house and whose bath is a whirlpool. In that time the only things ever washed in it have been the dogs! As a kid the idea of a whirlpool bath would have offered more fun than an aircraft hanger sized slot car track. Creating bubbles without having to fart would have been nirvana; the idea it was big enough for all your friends to splash about would have been so exciting that I would have performed household chores just to be able to have a bath like that!

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

R.I.P. MIDDLE AGE

  • March 5, 2023
  • Fasion Health & Beauty Friends Kids/Family/Relations Sex Travel/Nature
  • View all 0 Comments
Why...

Am I not dressed in grey leather shoes and polyester trousers?

One of the casualties of every generation since the Silent Generation (1935-1950), has been the demise of Middle Age.

Right now, the only limits to me behaving as I did in my youth are physical.

I do not own a tartan coloured shopping trolley with matching tartan booties. I don’t possess a cardigan, a pipe or a jacket with leather elbow pads. Nor, do I endlessly suck on a Werther's Original caramel or have a glass by my bedside for dentures.

Right now, if you take a photo of a group of a hundred people, they may display their own tribal colours but within that tribe, between the ages of 25-65, are actually pretty alike.

Yet when I look at photos of my salad days and at people now my age, they all appear distinctly different to the youth that’s with them. The women are all dressed in ‘A’ line skirts surrounded by Tupperware containers. The men either have a comb-over or a short back and sides haircut, and are in ties and lace up brogues, even on weekends. Folk barely fifteen years younger are in jeans, with varying lengths of hair and a perpetual grin on their faces.

All the middle aged were so different from the youth. They all respected the speed limit and positions of authority. The men shaved every day but the women never did. Married couples were rarely able to travel beyond home shores and certainly never ate food that was not either frozen or a domestic recipe. There was fear of the foreign rather than curiosity. And nearly all had the same job in the same firm all their lives. Sad.

My generation has actually found the secret to eternal youth. Act like you want, not how you should.

I may now wake up with a sixty-year old’s body, but my mind and mannerisms are distinctly those of a thirty-five year old. I ignore that old man as I get in my car for a blast down a country road, work out in a gym or cuddle my beloved wife.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

I want to be left alone - TV and magazine interviews on exactly why, to follow.

  • December 12, 2022
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Fasion Health & Beauty Friends Sex Technology
  • View all 0 Comments
Why...

Do some people who shriek for privacy, remind me of a quote from Hamlet, “The lady doth protest too much, me thinks”. In days gone by, certain people really meant it when they withdrew from the limelight.  Every female mimic in the world vamps us as Greta Garbo famously saying “Dahlink, I vant to be left alone”. The difference then was the Swedish icon stuck to it. No frantic interviews as to why she wanted to pull away from the public, an oxymoron of an event if ever there was one. She retreated to Manhattan and her art collection. Manhattan! Can you imagine that? No seeking out the paparazzi and in the one of the most publicity hungry cities on earth. At the height of her fame and beauty she had decided to retreat from the world, possibly due to the negative reviews of The Two Faced Woman. She was 36. The title of that failed movie is pretty ironic when you look at the two-faced women since, who have protested their desire for privacy but who continue seeking the limelight and would attend even the opening of a fridge.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

🎶Memories are made of this🎵

  • December 4, 2022
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Fasion Health & Beauty Finance/Law Food & Drink Friends Kids/Family/Relations Sex Sport Technology
  • View all 3 Comments
Why...

Can nostalgia be dangerous? Brrrm Brrrm! Walking straight onto a plane with no security checks Carrying my speargun as cabin baggage in a plane First and business class transatlantic flights with no beds Airplane tickets made by travel agents only Smoking carriages on the subway/smoking sections on a plane Asking what is the movie on the plane Hovercraft to France Railway carriages with compartments and corridors Going for a Sunday drive 101 Octane Fuel Buses with conductors Driving without a seatbelt Just a radio with a single speaker in the car Spare tyres in cars No speed limits on motorways Electric Milk Floats Parking meters fed with coins

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Screw you, or do you want to get pulled?

  • August 14, 2022
  • Food & Drink Friends Love Sex
  • View all 3 Comments
Why...

Do I still prefer pulling a cork rather than unscrewing a cap? Logic has gone out the window here. No other business in the world would tolerate a (conservative) 5% failure rate, which is the figure given for 'corked' wines. That's one in twenty. We have hissy fits when one in in ten thousand IPads just blink. Can you imagine if one in twenty cars were faulty?   And yet....   That seductive pop bursts so many pent up emotions. The sound rivals the soothing tones of a $500 an hour shrink. That pop can just as easily equate to the escape of bottled up sexual tension on a first date, to the release of frustration after the week from hell (I suspect David and Sam Cameron may well have yanked a few corks after Brexit). Then there is the whole wonderful bullshit theatre of the sommelier. Firstly he thrusts the bottle under my nose, ignoring if I was in mid-sentence or even mid- joke, demanding my undivided attention in his far more important world. I can barely remember the name of what I have picked out, let alone the year but I gamely play along with the charade, putting on my specs to carefully inspect the bottle. Then, deftly using one of those tiny contraptions I can never get to work, the wine waiter swiftly extracts the cork. If he is a sommelier par excellence he might even sniff what he has removed, and with a look of supreme indifference, pocket it as he pours me a thimble full of wine to taste. Of course if he really knew what he was doing he should know instantly if a bottle is bad and simply apologize and produce another. But he has his reasons and waits as I take a sip. The moment of truth. Occasionally when the bottle is so badly corked that my tongue dials the fire brigade, I am brave enough to challenge the wine waiter and suggest the bottle of botulism he has presented me with ain't quite up to standard. However I am ashamed to admit most times I am too intimidated if I think the wine is punching me in the throat rather than caressing my taste buds.  Usually my party have drunk half the bottle before someone has the courage to say that "rather than suggesting a bouquet of raspberry with a hint of chocolate and whisper of tannins, this tastes like a bus driver's sock.” We then haul over the wine waiter. Depending on if we look like we might know what we are talking about he will inspect the glass and mutter an apology, or simply whisk the offending bottle away. I have never seen a sommelier actually taste a corked bottle. A good one that is not corked, yes. But a bottle of rancid wine juice? Never. As I said, they know from the get go, but hope your too sloshed to notice. The reason they say nothing is the staff will of course chalk up the bottle as rancid, add it to the claim of dud bottles they present each month to the supplier and open (hopefully) a decent bottle of the same vintage to enjoy once the bloody patrons have left.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

If an airline can charge you for a seat on a plane that does not exist, why can they also charge you if you don’t appear at the gate?

  • July 3, 2022
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Finance/Law Friends Kids/Family/Relations Travel/Nature
  • View all 1 Comment
Why...

Are some airlines hellbent on pi##ing off their passengers, whilst some notable exceptions bend over backwards to be helpful? Let’s face it. Airports in certain cities are in chaos. I recently heard of a passenger checking into First Class on an international carrier asking for his bags to go to Rio as he went to New York. An exasperated check in staff called over the manager who explained this was simply impossible. Baggage had to accompany the passenger. “Well, you managed it last time I flew to New York”, came the response, to a ripple of applause from other passengers.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Why a spring break is like a Pringle

  • May 29, 2022
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Fasion Health & Beauty Friends Kids/Family/Relations Travel/Nature
  • View all 0 Comments
Why...

During two years of lockdown and feeling like Papillon on Devil’s Island, locked in and no way out, my wife and I took the sports car to Sicily then on to Calabria and Puglia in the boot of Italy. The problem was we did not want to come home. After being cooped up in Malta, an island so small you could carpet it in an afternoon, the sense of freedom was overwhelming. And just like a single Pringle, a short break is not nearly enough. Had we not had two pooches waiting for us, we would be in Croatia by now on the way to Istanbul!

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Hmmmm. A gorgeous hint of bullshit, with on-the-palate flavour of Edward Lear nonsense poems and a strong aftertaste of swallowing a quaalude and The Complete Oxford dictionary. Welcome to tasting notes on wine and spirits

  • May 8, 2022
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Food & Drink Friends Life
  • View all 0 Comments
Why...

Are descriptions of taste so pompous and indecipherable? I read recently that a wooden cask tub of Macallans Whisky, which was bought for £5,000 thirty years ago on a whim of I suspect some rich dipso, has just sold for over £1m! To justify this ludicrous bar bill, that works out at around £2,000 a bottle, the descriptions of the taste have reached epic proportions of nonsense. Can anyone really tell me what… “a yellow halo with a mesmerising nose with a scent of salted caramel drizzled chocolate brownie restrained with a background of fresh orange marmalade and neroli with a dying hint of tobacco leaf” really smells like? To me it stinks like an Oreo cookie covered in Robertson finest Golden Shred marmalade, sprinkled with fag ends.  And that’s just the smell. The rapturous pretentious waffle goes into overdrive when describing the taste; I dare you to read this and take it seriously. “On the palate waves of sweetness carries and mingles mature oak and library leather bound book dryness. This breaks into a regal spice mix of nutmeg ginger and ground coriander, over a wash of ginger perkin biscuits, soft buttery dates and freshly baked Danish apricot pastries.” (London The Times 27 April 2022)  A perkin biscuit? WTF is that? I mean, just  line up six whiskies and tell me which one they are referring to. “I say, Cedric, I think it might be this one though I not sure if the spice mix is regal enough and I think sweaty sock juice mingled with old leather football boots more apt than library books.” What makes my jaw hit the floor in admiration at the effusive nonsense is the ingredients of scotch are simply malted barley, water and yeast. And yet it reads here that someone tipped half the content of the unused drawer in the kitchen into the still used to ferment the whisky. The people who write this tripe I assume double as Real Estate novelists. The people who describe bathrooms as bijoux when you have to stand on the loo to shut the door.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

A musical instrument is a friend for life

  • March 13, 2022
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Friends Kids/Family/Relations Technology
  • View all 0 Comments
Why...

Do parents inflict on their children the misery of learning an instrument?

Well of course the answer to the above is probably one upmanship and ignorance.

“My Johnnie is learning the recorder…”

“Ah yes, the sweet little simpleton’s flute. Miranda found that soooooo easy she is now playing the oboe…”

All this lasts as long as the parent can stand the noise. No sane person would ever inflict on themselves, a child practicing the violin. Strangling a cat produces melodic bliss in comparison.

Then of course you get trendy parents who allow kids something a bit more useful and contemporary like drums or electric guitar. That is just masochistic. An electric guitar wails, and it’s the listener who ‘gently weeps’.

Drum solos are like nails down a blackboard even at a rock concert, but performed for hours on end, it is likely to end in mass murder. In addition, unlike a pair of maracas which your child can carry anywhere, you need a lorry to lug a drum kit about and a fork lift truck to load the stuff into the lorry. And then what? If your beloved keeps it up, he or she will spend all their teenage years doing no work but instead auditioning for bands convinced they are the next Nirvana.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Love me, love my dog

  • January 30, 2022
  • Animals/Pets Friends Kids/Family/Relations Life Sex
  • View all 1 Comment
Why...

When you come to my house do I suggest you don’t criticise my dogs as I won’t judge your children (at least not out loud).

Now I completely accept some people don’t like dogs... in the same way I accept that some people believe Elvis Presley is alive, well and riding Shergar across Area 51.

The thing about dogs is their love is unconditional. Even Hitler’s pet Alsatian Blondi no doubt thought Adolf a loveable chap who fed him scraps and gave him a splendid kennel complete with a swastika weathervane. That pooch was always pleased to see Mein Fuhrer, even after a hard day’s genocide.

In fact dogs are the ultimate sycophants. They laugh at your jokes, look at you admiringly, even perform tricks on demand... of course in return they expect to get food and shelter.

Dogs have indeed come a long way from their wolf forebears and many are more metrosexual with clipped nails and smart coats than flea infested hunters of old. In fact were man to become extinct in a haze of radioactive mushroom clouds, I’m afraid man’s best friend would follow pretty shortly afterwards.

The idea that Pepe the Chihuahua would survive in a post apocalypse world is farcical unless the radiation allows him to develop thumbs to open any tins of Kanga Chunks that he might uncover in the ruins of the post atomic blast.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Before I agree to sign on for 2022 I want to read the small print

  • January 4, 2022
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Food & Drink Friends
  • View all 0 Comments
Why...

It is good riddance to bad rubbish that was 2021. Everyone seems to have suffered. In my case, multiple surgeries, a law suit and a multi-coloured silk shirt my wife decided looked like a kaftan on me and nearly led to divorce!

I used to think ‘annus horribilis’ was a polite way of describing a bad case of piles. However, 2021 will take some beating as a pretty grim year and in fact a pretty grim decade. The only roaring of this Century 20’s is from frustrated revellers and travellers!

Much as I look forward to the sunny uplands of 2022, I can envision the lookalike of  Harry Potter character Dobby, a.k.a Putin taking a bite out of the Ukraine and depending on the West’s reaction, Panda Xi helping himself to a new form of Chinese takeaway, Taiwan.

Then we have a Winter Olympics in which all western dignitaries have stamped their diplomatic foot and refused to partake of Dimsum and a glass of Baijiu with the hosts. In addition, despite locking down anything that moves, COVID seems intent on derailing that spectacle.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Whatever happened to the three martini lunch?

  • September 26, 2021
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Food & Drink Friends Kids/Family/Relations
  • View all 3 Comments
Why...

Have we let naked ambition put cordial working relationships on a strict diet? Of course I blame purple braces, red Porsches and Gordon Gekko. The first casualty from Big Bang in the 1980’s was the three martini lunch. If lunch was for wimps, then count me in (if that’s no too much trouble)! I remember my early days in the City working in Lloyd’s Insurance market on Kidnap and Ransom insurance. Twice a year I would have lunch in the Directors boardroom at Fenchurch Street Brokers with an underwriter who got deeply offended if after cocktails then wine, we did not finish off a bottle of port. Of course we were fried as owls and no work was done that afternoon, but we never had a row, always got our man back if someone was kidnapped and the world shone brightly through the gimlet of the bi-annual assault on our livers. Could this Underwriter have been a touch richer, more ruthless and generate more moohlah for his company? Possibly? But then I probably would not have wanted to spend time with him or give him my business. In 1980 everything suddenly got serious. Fun was out as the new slave drivers assured us no one could possibly get rich being a bit silly. I suppose that’s one reason why shortly after Big Bang I left the City and ended up working for a man who had made millions sticking his hand up a Frog’s bottom. Jim Henson and The Muppets were back then an Entertainment behemoth... and not that we ever overindulged in anything to the detriment of that wonderful company, but indulge we all did. And it all (like Kermit) went along swimmingly. Chalk one up to the silly people.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Your grobulator is not in sync with your doo-hickey

  • July 11, 2021
  • Friends Kids/Family/Relations Technology Uncategorised Work
  • View all 0 Comments
Why...

Do I have to listen to drivel? Jargon is really a verbal hedge professionals hide behind... waiting to jump out and financially mug you. The truth is most businesses are not that complex, but to make everyone think someone has an IQ the size of a planet, people make up complex words (acronyms if in the Army) that no one understands. Never let a simple word stand in the way of a complex one, especially if as a lawyer you can charge £500 an hour to explain it.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Cycle lanes … they worry me

  • June 27, 2021
  • Fasion Health & Beauty Friends Kids/Family/Relations
  • View all 1 Comment
Why...

Does anyone think reducing the width of a road increases mobility?

Recently in Malta, many of our main arteries are being choked with cycle lanes cutting into the roads in the name of increasing mobility and reducing pollution.

To be honest, whilst I sort of understand the logic, it is a million miles away from reality. Let’s start with heart attacks. Who is really going to cycle between the months of July and September up and down our hilly rock where heat and humidity would test a Tour de France cyclist? And these are the months the traffic is at it’s height due to tourists.

If these cycle lanes cut into and reduce the pavement width I would be prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt as people promenading during these months along artery roads is rarer than a smile at passport control. But with each car in summer shuffling usually four tourists about in a mini car not much longer than a bicycle but going four times quicker, can it really help movement of traffic by narrowing the lanes? Lorries and buses are now perpetually driving like threading a needle adding to jams and pollution as everyone now grinds to a halt to let them squeeze around corners or roundabouts.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

The only time it is acceptable to wear a tag is on your toe in the morgue

  • June 20, 2021
  • Fasion Health & Beauty Friends Work
  • View all 1 Comment
Why...

Do people dress like they are an advertising billboard?

If you have to yell at people you are wearing a Dolce and Gabbana top, a Gucci jacket, Louis Vuitton bag or La Perla knickers you must be more insecure than a Labour candidate in an upcoming U.K. by-election.

Not only are you insulting the intelligence of those around you, you broadcasting that you are a tasteless oaf to those within 50 yards of you.

From the designers point of view they cannot believe their luck. Here they are charging like the Light Brigade at $250 for a T shirt that cost them less than $5, and their high end and sometime influencer clientele is advertising the fact for free!

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Whatever time I wake up, I always feel everyone else should be awake

  • June 7, 2021
  • Fasion Health & Beauty Friends Kids/Family/Relations Sex Technology
  • View all 0 Comments
Why...

Do Hospitals insist on waking patients up at 0:Dark Thirty?

Recently, due to a prolonged hospital stay where I was actually woken up each morning at 05:00, I now luxuriate in home visits from a nurse every morning at 07:00. So, my wife and I have been getting up at a time which in my younger nightclubbing days I would have just about been going to bed.

Before you all send me messages about how much earlier you get up, that is not the point. For me, I usually wake around 08:30 and down a heart-starting double macchiato by 09:00. Remember the commute to my office is a flight of stairs.  So, for me I expect all my friends in the same time zone to be bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to talk within an hour and a half of my waking up, i.e 10:00.

Right now though,10:00 seems an eternity away from when I greet the dawn. 3 1/2 hours for European time and 4 1/2 for UK. I mean there is only so much shit, shower and shave, breakfast news, morning papers and Facebook abuse a man can take. I need human contact outside of my beloved wife!

I start to wonder who will equally be up early because of kids or gym. At least I can call friends in LA when I get up. It’s early evening for them.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

As lockdown is over we wondered if we could come visit and have a dip in your pool?

  • April 18, 2021
  • Friends Kids/Family/Relations Technology Travel/Nature
  • View all 2 Comments
Why...

Do I suspect our home is about to be invaded by numbers that make the Mongol hordes look like a tea party?

Over the next four months my wife and I are bracing ourselves not only for requests to visit from dear and close friends, but everyone I have ever met; from the STD doctor I once spilt coffee over and gave my gentleman’s sausage third degree burns, to a Fulham traffic warden who gave me so many tickets he knew my name. He’d even stop me in the street to tell me he’d just given me another ticket or worse what he called a curbie grip (clamp).

The pent up desire from people in Northern climes to ‘come and unwind’ for a few days now they are released from Covid’s lockdown embrace, could eventually transform me from a gracious host into Basil Fawlty.

As some readers know, the problem is people think because you live by the sea in a warm environment that you are de facto permanently on holiday. No, it’s home! I work from here! It’s like assuming because you choose to live in Des Moines you are as bland as sliced bread... well actually that’s true, bad example... but you know what I mean. No matter where you live, in a Palace in Pacific Palisades to a bivouac in Hackensack. It’s home. Not a holiday.

Some people are shocked when you cannot drive them to see the worlds largest bunion (or whatever your locale has made famous) or that the fridge is getting low on beer.

“Yeah the red burns on my arm are not caused by the sun but permanently working on the bar-b-q”, I add dryly to a enquiry as to my health.

Please note... actually it’s barbe a queue, literally beard to tail when you spit roast a chicken or even a pig on an open fire. So now we not only have to thank the French for their Letters (think about it, it’s a subtle joke) but also allowing Australians to think they can cook.

I digress...

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

2021 Summer Holidays... Club 18-30 will be empty. It’s going to be all oldies

  • March 7, 2021
  • Friends Kids/Family/Relations Sex Travel/Nature
  • View all 1 Comment
Why...

Will all the nightclubs this summer be full of Old Age Pensioners?

Amid all this rushing to get anyone in touching distance of being old injected against Covid, we will have left the younger generation alone.

“They’re not at risk. They can wait.”

Maybe...

I have to assume that this summer no one is going to be able to venture overseas without proof of inoculation. Come forward most people over 55. What about the sex mad twenty somethings, a significant percentage of whom enjoy rumpy-pumpy 24 hours after landing on foreign shores! They are going nowhere.  No inoculation, no overseas travel.

An entire generation will sit at home watching their parents and grandparents all dressed up in sombreros and sandals, off to the Continent to drown in Sangria, Mai Tai’s and Ambre Solaire.

On the Costa del Sol a backpacker is going to be as rare as a redneck with a full set off teeth. The whole vibe of this summer in Europe will change.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

2021... about bloody time!

  • December 29, 2020
  • Entertainment/Media/Arts Finance/Law Friends Kids/Family/Relations Uncategorised
  • View all 1 Comment
Why...

I shall stay up till midnight this New Year’s Eve?

Like guests who have overstayed their welcome and I shed crocodile tears as I wave a relieved good bye, I shall bid an un-fond farewell to 2020.  Indeed, I shall stay up to make sure we do go into January 1st 2021 rather than have Groundhog Day and get stuck on 31 December 2020.

There is no need to dwell on the all the obvious reasons of why I shall be ecstatic to say Adieu to 2020; US elections, riots, Brexit and COVID.

Here are a few less known things that have expired and I am saying goodbye to in 2021.

My Tabasco sauce of five years,

My Lea & Perrins of ten years ago and

Any Twinkie cakes buried in the cupboard and bought when my Kindergarten teacher was born must also now go the the giant dustbin in the sky.

I know that within a month of every electrical guarantee expiring, the gadgets will all go phut... unless I paid money for an extension on the guarantee. The equipment will duly give up the ghost the next day after expiry of the longer warranty.

Unbelievably, beer only lasts four months from bottling. Whoever has kept beer that long anyway?

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

Bruce Springsteen was right... ???? 57 Channels and nothing on????

  • December 20, 2020
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Why...

Can’t I find something to watch? The most common question I get nowadays is not about COVID measures, UK versus EU or how Donald Trump combs his hair. It is... “Have you seen a good series recently?”  There are two things we all have in common during lockdown. One is continually opening the fridge and expecting to see different content despite not having been to the shops to feed it. The other is binge watching TV series, despite earlier stated noble ideas of learning via the Internet fluent Swahili or being able to perform open heart surgery armed only with a Swiss Army knife. This is where Springsteen was prophetic in his song from 1992. You would think with more drama being produced than ever before this would be easy. There is no doubt that the best of television now is the best ever created. The most talented writers, stars and directors are forming orderly queues outside the offices of Netflix, Hulu, Showtime, HBO and Amazon Prime. Unlike us at the cinema. However, I have a problem. Everyone wants to create a Fargo, The Bridge, Breaking Bad or other cutting edge shows. Sadly many fall as flat as one of my soufflés. Can we not have a sprinkling of less edgy but more accessible shows? Not every lead has to be damaged, not every scene shot at night or every plot about the evils of drugs, dysfunctional families, child abuse, serial killers or big Pharma. (PS this last group along with another baddie, single use plastic, have just saved our asses so back off a bit maybe?) I am not asking for wall to wall Murder She Wrote or Midsomer Murders. I have sleeping pills that have the same effect. However, there are numerous thrillers, drama stories and even comedy books out there that are a little more mainstream and would make great TV. Or do I need to be put down as I am obviously getting old and crinkly?

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

What is rss? "rss" is about getting live web feeds
directly to your computer.