I just stubbed my toe on a fire engine.

I suppose one could use this as a euphemism of something ghastly but it’s simply a sentence that came out as I was clutching my toe just the other day. We are presently living with in excess of three fire engines and they lurk around corners waiting to trap the unsuspecting person walking by without steel toe capped boots. The subsequent pain seems to amuse my two grandchildren who have yet to master the art of parking such a weighty vehicle in the right place. At least no one has bought them a set of drums yet. Continue reading I just stubbed my toe on a fire engine.

The signs of summer, perhaps.

  At last, a little bit of sunshine, and inevitably the supermarkets and hardware shops are eyeing their shelves to see how many barbeque products they can put on there. It’s that time of year when ‘men must cook’ as if burning a second-rate sausage on an open fire is the very definition of maleness. It’s not.   You can buy this and other prints in the “The British Character” series right here. Continue reading The signs of summer, perhaps.