- “Scandaliser est un droit. Être scandalisé est un plaisir.” ― Pasolini, Pier Paolo
- RIP Natives
- Seasons in the (setting) sun
- It’s camping Jim, but not as we know it
- Foot in the crosshairs ……… fire!
- Ski gear for the worried well
- Caning the credit card
- Fashionista fail
- Ski scam of the week!
- I like to ride my bicycle …..
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Category Archives: Pot Luck
“It was a shocking thing to say and I knew it was a shocking thing to say. But no one has the right to live without being shocked. No one has the right to spend their life without being offended. … Continue reading
Actually, I bet Freddie Mercury never got on a bike in his life. Though there’s something appealing about the idea of of the catsuit-clad and abundantly moustachioed king of camp perched astride a sit up and beg contraption with onboard … Continue reading
‘Aaaawwwww that must be lovely, all the cutesome little animals!’ people inevitably drool when you tell them you’ve landed a summer job working for the local vet. Honestly, have you all lost any capacity for logical reasoning? Think about it … Continue reading
Season’s end approaches here and thoughts turn once again to how to earn enough of an interseason living to keep the bills paid and the cats in expensive foul-smelling biscuits which they ungratefully regurgitate in the very spot where you … Continue reading
This time last year we were all moaning ourselves into an early grave about lack of snow. Grumble, boring, where’s our snow, rubbish season, we’re taking our ball and going home, humph, we all said. Incessantly. Though to be fair, … Continue reading
I don’t know about anyone else, but recently I seem to have been bombarded with invitations to old pals’ reunion events. I’d put this down to my celebrity status and widespread popularity, but I suspect it has more to do … Continue reading
Interseason is holiday time, and once again rather than heading for the exotics we find ourselves back in Blighty, this time driving round Wolverhampton on a Saturday afternoon when the local footy team is playing at home, looking for a … Continue reading
Living as we do in the rural backwhacks of beyond, we remain largely oblivious to much of what is reputed to blight modern life, although with Grenoble a mere 40 minutes away, those of us who really want Kalashnikov-toting youth … Continue reading
Well Zut Alors, pass the snails and break out the Pastis, I seem to be French. Yes, finally the bureaucratic machine has satisfied itself that I might just about be appropriately Gallic enough and has graciously condescended to admit me … Continue reading