Murder On The Eiffel Tower*

“D’you know, he could win this,” John Inverdale says.  It’s the French Open and Andy Murray hasn’t yet hit a ball.  Let’s not tempt fate and make him lose in the first round to a qualifier, I think.  Probably best not to start to thinking about Andy-winning-the-whole-tournament at this stage. And they’re off.  Andy’s clad […]

An Ice Cream War*

Sitting on bike at gym, staring out of the window at the unbroken blue sky.  Which is nice.  Wearing my fat-burning shorts so am hot: they work by making you sweat more.   Have unpacked most of suitcase.  Washed a load of clothes and so did brother so they are all squashed onto the airer. […]