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I must have lived in Berlin too long because it’s screeching hot on a Sunday afternoon, I am exhausted, and somehow the idea has crept into my head that I would like to drink a martini. It won’t dislodge. Opening my parents’ liquor cabinet is a dispiriting experience. It is a small, oval, glass-panelled thing […]
A man who loves to cook but cannot bake is so good for a girl’s convenience and ego. Years ago I lived with a guy who thought “hundreds of thousands” were called “thousands of millions” and that croissants were a cross bread. He wasn’t wrong but his dyslexia was a continuing delight and I always […]