Something strange and unexpected has happened to me. It’s as unsettling as the moment in An American Werewolf in London when the main character transforms into a werewolf. It’s actually so awful that you may not want to read further.
There were no poppies on sale in the Irish Republic in my childhood. The same ones were brought out each year, like Christmas tree decorations. They had wire stalks and a small black button in the centre with Haig Fund written on it.
Strolling About on the Roof of the World ( Strollers, to its friends) is the title of a book published in 2001 to mark the first hundred years of what is now The Royal Society For Asian Affairs. They have another centenary to mark this year.
A recent comment, by John Fairhead, turns my thoughts to the entry barrier to London clubs. It was reported that Jeremy Paxman was blackballed from the Garrick a few years ago; “too pleased with himself”, apparently, but then he does have a lot to be pleased about.
Lord Ashcroft is probably feeling a bit unloved at the moment. His relationship with the Conservative party and the Prime Minister is finished forever I guess.
The President of OPEC and the CEO of Royal Dutch Shell are in agreement; oil prices will go up. They would say that, wouldn’t they? (Thank you Mandy for your contribution to what is supposed to be a serious post.)
Some of the best things in life are free, others cost much less than the pleasure they provide. The reverse is also true. Does an expensive car, house or holiday really give value for money?