The Immortal Memory

In bygone times, we male Jocks tended to go just a wee touch Neanderthal at this time of year. Not, of course, that this is a bad thing, if hmb happens to be looking in. Personally, I blame it on the long, dark nights, the need to step up the fat content of our diet even higher than usual in order to get close to feeling slightly less than cold and the Six Nations tournament with its inevitable realisation that we are doomed, yet again, to contest the wooden spoon with the Italians. Continue reading “The Immortal Memory”