Wallflower Dispatches

The first love for an object – Nutella-soaked breakfast crackers, Glenn Gould and his variations on Goldberg, before Florence in May, even before the nimble feet of Fred Astaire – the love that came before all others was England, and more specifically: London.
Like all other first adolescent emotional attachments this love was abstract, idealistic, unconditional, [...]

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Taking a fair a balanced view of French life, it has been very hard so far to find anything worth criticising. Perhaps the croissant induced coma is to blame, perhaps not speaking the language properly is a cotton wool buffer that protects an otherwise too perceptive nature. However, if there is something that comes as a [...]

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