I’m not sure I even realized that Shakespeare wrote a play called Henry V let alone that I would like it.  Harold Bloom (my stuffy discussant) had very little to say about it other than Falstaff isn’t in it.  He seems to judge every character by Falstaff or Hamlet.  I get it: they’re transcendent characters.   Read the Rest…

I’ve slipped into one of my spy phases so even though I am compromising security, it’s currently the only thing on my mind.   For purposes of this blog, all use of the word “drop” should be considered what Alfred Hitchcock called a MacGuffin: the plot device of using an often ambiguous thing which the characters  Read the Rest…

I sent some marshmallow Peeps to my cousins in England.  It was partially to reciprocate the chocolate Tiddly Reindeers they sent at Christmas, partly to contribute to good relations across the pond and partly because Peeps don’t weigh very much so the postage isn’t twice the cost of the item.  Well, actually it is but  Read the Rest…

I just finished a book set in Yorkshire.  You don’t need to know its title because it wasn’t very good and I’ll recommend a better book later on.  The point here is that it got me thinking about Richmond, a splendid market town in North Yorkshire which I visited a few years back.   I am  Read the Rest…

Okay, we’re back. I use the third person royally because I actually live alone, not counting the three cats to whom I pay rent.  However I am more introverted than not and I feel like I almost died of people this past week.  I ate lunches, dinners, and high teas such as I don’t believe  Read the Rest…

With Halloween appearing a full month ahead of itself, I’ve been thinking about Margaret of Clitherow’s hand.   I saw The Hand when I traveled in England in the year 2005, in the city of York, of a good family, though not of that city, my father being a foreigner of Cornwall.  That’s for you English  Read the Rest…

I am an Anglophile.  It started early in my life and was enhanced by finding an address for my Cornish relations in my great Aunt Ann’s address book after she died in the 1970’s.  I wrote to my distant cousin Hazel, then 68 years old, and we began to correspond.  Since then I have made  Read the Rest…