Brits in the USA

Another week of writing and blogging and grabbing coffees on the run is at an end. As is the case with most weeks, I've met some great p...

As it turned out those summer evening walks with Yoda were short lived. During his last days Yoda was confined to a downstairs bathroom af...

I confess to going to watch England's game against the USA yesterday with a swagger and a degree of arrogance. Frankly when we are talk...

If one thing's going to make me feel homesick in the USA it's the World Cup. Eight years ago on a visit to the deep south following...

A visit to the library today has led me to ask myself some hard questions about blogging. I don't visit my local library as often as I...

I'm not sure if I'll burn in hell or not but I'm off to the confessional, anyway. But will the fact I'm not a Catholic bar m...

Looking at them on the beach at First Landing made me feel old; overtanned bodies, their muscles barely contained beneath the lightly tattoo...

My new favorite song is The Sound of Silence by Simon & Garfunkel. I haven't seen The Graduate, for which the song is a soundtrack f...

Duro Sheds aren't very sexy unless you are unfortunate enough to wake up one morning and discover you are the Unibomber, but they've...

I have been meaning to blog about Chincoteague Island ever since we returned from a weekend away, but have been seized by inertia and a lack...

On the indistinct water's edge where the crumbling land meets Hampton Roads, these fishermen seemed to be more wary of my camera than th...