Mr Furlong is my best friend. Continue reading
The Furlongs were at my mother’s death. Three of us – my sister, Mr Furlong and I. Continue reading
I was complaining that we’d had no snow. No snow at all whilst the rest of England had lashings of it. Continue reading
The worst thing about Christmas preparations for this Furlong is wrapping gifts. Continue reading
In 1946/47, my mother and father spent a year in the States. He was topping up a science degree and she was touring, lecturing on South Africa. Continue reading
Oh dear – I got side tracked today.
I looked at old photos – hundreds of old photos from years and years ago. I hate photos – they make me depressed. Continue reading
I was thinking how degraded I’ve become.
I use the F word. I use it simply in conversation occasionally and sometimes it spills over into a post. Or even a post title – as in ‘FFS’ Continue reading