Fifty and FearlessFifty and Fearless

Ever since I hit my fifties, I’ve been more determined. ‘Fearless’ might make a good alliterative title, although it is essentially inaccurate. I’ve fought fear my whole life. Fear of
Ever since I hit my fifties, I’ve been more determined. ‘Fearless’ might make a good alliterative title, although it is essentially inaccurate. I’ve fought fear my whole life. Fear of
This is my last in my series of ‘buy nothing new’ blogs, although as you will discover, it’s not the end of my ‘buying nothing new’! 12 months ago I decided
I can’t remember a bad Christmas from when we were kids. My dad loves Christmas: an over-abundance of decorations food and gifts; games, TV and friends. He’s always been a
I was raised on the ‘protestant work ethic’, even though my dad was a Catholic. To be fair, he championed work and play in equal measure. A union man and
The question was simple, casual: “Would you like to join us for a drink at the bar?” I’d been to one of my regular jaunts into the Highland capital
I’m about to make a confession, although not that I’ve taken up Country Music! When I decided in January that I wasn’t going to buy anything new this year, I
I was born and raised in the suburbs of London. It was Surrey then and is South West London now, less than a dozen miles from the city centre.
I’ve always been able to remember car number plates. Ever since I was a kid. Our first family car, a yellow Mini: original A reg named Primrose. The Ford
The young chirpy voice piped up a cheery ‘good morning’ on the packed train carrying a miserable load of – now ‘ex’ – holidaymakers from Gatwick Airport to Clapham, and
I decided, age 11, that I wasn’t eating meat. Not no more. Not no how. My mother was horrified and thought I would die of malnourishment. To be fair