In the West Indies, we love a good story. They reside in everything; our carnival celebration and our music to name a few. Calypso is just commentary set to trotting beat, songs that are true harbingers of our history. Crick crack is a quick prelude to a fable. It’s like throwing a penny in the […]Read More Crick, Crack.
“Very nice sort of place, Oxford, I should think, for people that like that sort of place. They teach you to be a gentleman there. In the polytechnic they teach you to be an engineer or such like. See?” G.B. Shaw I went to university in Oxford, did you know? Oh yes, twas quaint. I’m […]Read More Oxford, Comma.
There are a gaggle of men who sit outside my first-cousin’s gift store. They are drunk. I’ve been her assistant during my unintentional 365 day sabbatical in the developing world, i.e. Trinidad & Tobago, i.e. Home, i.e. Nooooo. It’s a sweet little store, and my first-cousin is a shrewd yet kind businesswoman, she likes kids and […]Read More Drunk in Life