Until recently, I’ve always imagined that Bad, by sinister pop star Michael Jackson, is what's playing in my dog’s mind when he puts his head out of the car window on a sunny day. While I still believe this, I also now also associate it with vital surgery conducted under local anaesthetic as, at the … Continue reading Getting Things From Cupboards
In which we get a job in a morgue.
In which we dismiss dog snatching rumours and arrange a classic film night.
In which human life returns to Runton with yoga mats.
In which we consider death, New Romanticism, Adam and the Ants, and Live Aid.