2023 Grateful 52

Finally. The last day of 2023. I thought this year would never be over. It has weighed heavily on me, revolving as it did around

I’ve been to my share of funerals. I’ve missed even more. But I never fully appreciated what went into planning one. The task seemed daunting.

My bank emailed me today offering me a credit card, just in case I was finding the run-up to Christmas challenging. Financially. They’d even give

Julia Ward Howe. I met her today. Not met, met as she died back in 1910. Met as in the sense of stumbled across her

I’ve lots of time on my hands these days. Between making cups of tea and fetching whatever needs fetching, I’ve only the occasional piece of

Tired of me repeatedly hushing them, a friend told me adamantly that no, they were not being loud. We talked about it and concluded that

I found myself explaining an Irishism the other day to an American friend who had looked blankly as I used it to describe someone in

I met Brendan McDonald three books ago. Met, as in he talks and I listen. Not met, as in we had a cuppa. He’s an

A few years back, a journey to the village to visit friends who had left the city in favour of a more bucolic setting resulted

People who rear pigeons are known as pigeon fanciers. And while I quite fancy the more exotic pigeon, I doubt I’d ever be a fancier

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