This week as it was Halloween I was going to go out to the area known as ‘little America’ and look at the decorations and maybe make some querulous comments about the relative sprawling, leafy grandeur of the
suburb but as it was a dark and stormy night … well of course it was dark, why do scary tales always start like that? Actually it was just a very, very rainy night. Perfect bath weather, a night for staying home, drinking red wine, eating cheese for dinner and early to bed. So instead of Halloween and little America, I’m writing about some of the things I contemplate over a couple of 10-hour days behind a coffee machine.