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Second Life (11)
　
　
Tell me a story, asked the boy who wouldn’t go away. The man stared deeply into his glass.
No. I’ve told you enough today.
Tell me another one, the boy persisted. Tell me about the tiger and the goat.
I’ve already told you that one, replied the man. He wiped the sweat from his brow and out of his eyes. When he opened them again, the boy was still there, silent and patient.
The same fat, blue fly which had kept him company ...

Second Life (10)
　
Wireless. What does that mean to you ? 3G mobiles, laptops working in the middle of the ocean, Twattering, sorry, Twittering from one end of the earth to another ?
Once upon a time, it meant something completely different to millions of people around the world.
It was the name of a mystical machine which allowed a man in London with a bow-tie and and a cut-glass accent to talk to the rest of the known – and unknown - world.
It started as the ...

Second Life (9)
　
They were the best of times, they were the worst of times; but in the end, they were the only times we had, so we made the most of them.
The temptation of course is to see them in a roseate hue and sigh deeply as one falls asleep over the third brandy.
Which, naturally enough, is how I look back on my First Life – in public, at any rate.
Privately, the whole thing perplexes me. When I reflect on some of the things I did and some of the people ...

Second Life (8)
　
　
Of all the things I enjoyed in my First Life, what I miss most is a small, anonymous, Greek restaurant on Marylebone High Street. I’ve just tried to write about it, but gave up when I realised I can’t better what I wrote some 25 years ago. Here it is………….


All Engagements, Dead
　
One miserable Friday lunchtime when the weather has zapped all the racing, I am sitting idly in the Hellenic, sipping a gentle ouzo and flicking through ...

Second Life 7, Part Two.
　
Where was I ? Oh yes. Halfway up an active volcano, struggling to breathe, with a Harriet Harman of a nurse, a stinking hangover and no brandy left.
Things then got even worse. With a sudden lurch which threw me onto Harriet’s primly brassiered breasts, the van stopped dead.
Apparently, it could go no further. But we could and we did. Humping our bags and coats and various items of camera gear, we somehow struggled on up to the selected site ...