Making a gravy he can’t refuse
Potential trauma today. Excited little chap popped from the car like a cork from a bottle, and bounced to his sport class this evening. Only to find it cancelled, with the message unreceived. He took it really well. Disappointed, grumpy, but really digging in. There was nothing for it but ice cream. When you see this, there’s no other way of saying it. Life’s what you make of it.
Summer supping for a Sunday
Life Lesson #328: Real coffee does not come in granules
A weekend this good is worth writing about
One of the unusual literary things everyone should do at least once is to read the Bond novels in their original form. Ian Fleming was at times a fairly awful person, and the novels are sprinkled with appalling sexism and racism at points. But in matters of booze, they’re hard to surpass. I’m posting this with a pint of Dr No gin and tonic. Fleming didn’t, but I’d recommend Bombay Sapphire. Enjoy. Bond ordered a double gin and tonic and one whole green lime. When the drink came he cut the lime in half, dropped the two squeezed halves into the long glass, almost filled the glass with ice cubes and then poured in the tonic. He took the drink out on to the balcony, and sat and looked out across the spectacular view.