‘Is the chair coming off?’ the bus-driver asked Sarge. ‘No,’ I said ‘I thought I’d leave the chair here and walk off myself. Have a nice day.’ And I went down the ramp. Two more ramps and I was on a train to Glasgow. As I dug my book out of my backpack, I realised this was the first time I’d done such a trip without Sarge. And I began to miss him, because I am sap. I had plans…
Last week I decided that I wanted to actually make something for Sarge for Valentine’s Day. Or at least watch someone else do it. Because the last time I tried to make something, the red stuff wasn’t food-colouring. But it was iron- enriched. Anyway, I’m looking up baking ideas, and my PA suggests Martha Stewart. Now, we have a saying in my family that goes something like this: Molly was Martha Stewart before Martha was Martha Stewart. Molly was my…
I have a confession to make. I have piles. Giant piles. Really annoying piles. There’s one in the kitchen, one in the bedroom, and several in the office. I spent a good part of last week organising the flat, and this task has spilled into this week. Because I rewarded myself with an eyebrow wax (well, both eyebrows, I don’t like to be uneven) and a trip to Starbucks on Friday. With the help of my new people, several black…
Tuesday 28th December 2010 We say we’ll be on the road by 10.00. It is noon before we set off. I am wedged in the backseat between some bags, two tires and Sarge. By 3.00, I have lost feeling in my ass. I find it again when twisting to take photos through the windows. My father has never been good at time-keeping. The fact that he has his own time zone is part of his charm. We always get where…
