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January 29 - February 3, 2022
the unexpected: humor and the subtleties of friendship; how a cold exterior can hide passion; the dynamic currents of dead history.
Why, it would not even surprise me to find my own memoirs classified as fiction, myself relegated to cloud-cuckoo-land. Now there is a delicious irony.
“That’s what tears are for, you know, to wash away the fear and cool the hate.”
“My lovely Stilton; it’s almost ripe, too. I do hope Mr. Thomas enjoys it.” “Any riper and it will eat through the woodwork and drop into the room below.” “You envy me my educated tastes.” “That I will not honour with a response. Get out the door, Russell.”
love it! A Brit would obviously found a smelly cheese distasteful, but Mary has a sophisticated palate!
He was a good player, ruthless and imaginative, but an erratic one, for he tended to glory in bizarre gambits and impossible saves rather than the methodical building of defence and thoroughly supported offence.
“Well done, Russell. Deucedly clever, that. More devious than I’d have given you credit for. My children have bested me,” he quoted, somewhat irreverently.

