What’s beyond the beyond? It may have been sometime in 1957 or maybe it was in fifty-eight, maybe it was many nights or maybe just a single one, who knows and frankly it’s not very relevant. My brother and I, oh, and the dog; well of course, he was always around doing whatever dogs do… where was I?
The strange ways of fate. It must have been somewhere round eight-thirty, a moonless night in Libya had plunged the Sahara desert into near total darkness, at least seen from the cockpit of my plane.
Spinach I wrote about memories previously and I think I said something along the lines of: The problem with memories is, that they are not always very well memorised… and I am now going to have to contradict myself immediately because there are some things one never forgets,
Old Photographs It’s a mystery to me today when I look at some of the old black and white photographs of my mother and myself as a young boy, one of them on the ‘Pont du Mont Blanc’ in Geneva.
The Swamp Patrol The swamp patrol... someone has to do it. Someone shouted, ‘Where’s the bloody barrel?’ Another called back, ‘What you mean, "Where’s the barrel?" You didn’t bloody lose it, did you?’ ‘It must have come off when he went under,’ someone else suggested. . .
A Glimpse Into the Past On the move… again. Now let’s see, it’s all a very long time ago, maybe it was just after Napoleon lost the battle of Waterloo or maybe it was more recent, I can’t quite remember;
