I have been on holiday for a week in the north of Tenerife with my wife and little boy. I’ve been swimming in the pool, playing tennis, driving in search of an English newspaper and enjoying peace before the inevitable return to the world of stress and anger.
Such early summers feel dream-like at times so when I saw a nib* in The Times this evening it was hard to know whether the newspaper was in my dream or whether my dream was in the newspaper. It wasn’t a case of you couldn’t make it up, more a case of something that I thought that I’d made up. Continue reading