A *really* scary man.

I was out and about in Muswell Hill, doing a few middle class errands. You know, picking up the olives and the Marsala wine. “Trifle?” “No, chicken. With mushrooms.” “Ah, yes. Nobody buys it to drink these days, which is a shame.” (So said the man in Prohibition Wines.) I suddenly realised that, although I …

A *really* scary man. Read More »