It was here, upstairs at the indie night at the Cape of Good Hope, Oxford, on 12th March, 1987, that I got together with the woman whose husband I would become.
Still I’d leap in front of a flying bullet for you.
What right does an establishment purveying food like this to be called ‘Nibblers’?
The prospect of toast and poetry.
Snowdrops at Hodsock Priory