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My brain’s on vacation

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The Boy is asleep, and an evening stretches ahead with nothing but good bourbon whiskey, a view of the light fading over the mountain, and a lively selection of books. Even if an analytic dissection of the performance of the White House press corps isn’t your average vacation paperback, it’s a super holiday for the brain.

Night, all. I’m now officially unavailable for comment.

Personal views of a wordsmithing, sartorialist, horn-playing, state school Oxonian dad, rugby ref, recovering politico, and fan of vintage tailoring, Ralph Lauren style, and sharp writing.

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