It’s War!

It’s War!

I’ve been fascinated by all matters military since I was a fairly small child. My father was a Normandy Veteran, a sergeant in the Royal Corps of Signals. Something he generally kept to himself. The war, World War II, was something that he found difficult to talk about. My father was Jewish, his father was born in Hamburg, Germany, and his mother in Poland. What little I have been able to piece together of my family’s past is limited to the family tree, written on cash analysis paper, which goes back to 1513, and bits and pieces that have...

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Early Character Lessons

Early Character Lessons

I am an only child. I mention this purely in the spirit that what follows may not make a whole heap of sense to those who come from large human (and I stress ‘human’) families. When I was born, my parents already had a fur-child. Pepper, the psycho Dalmation. Of course back then, fur-children were not called fur-children. Pepper was Dad’s dog. Had been so since my mother bought him home, he battled his way up the stairs into the flat my parents were living in at the time and plonked himself at Dad’s feet. Dad peered over his...

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Kentucky

Kentucky

I have a confession to make. I love American people. I have never met an American who isn’t a thoroughly decent, charming and wonderful person. So they are not very good at picking politicians, but neither are we. The ordinary people are just lovely. I knew I was going to love Kentucky long before I got there. Jase (Jason Horger), business partner, writing partner, and keeper of my horrendous comma splices (Mel, hunny, prepare to be drowned in commas)… Well Jase is the little brother my parents never got around to giving me. I love him unconditionally, and his...

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CAFFEINE!!

CAFFEINE!!

I fell in love with Black Coffee when I was fourteen years old. Up until then, my forays into the taste of coffee had always been accompanied by milk and sugar. Trust me, this is a mistake. I have never been overly fond of the taste of cow, when I was a child it came as something of a shocky horror that French Milk tasted completely, and weirdly, different from English Milk. I did not want to pour that over my cereal. This was an ongoing battle that lasted through my youth, teens and into my twenties when I...

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