Lockdown Diary: Day Twenty-Five.

It is 6.33pm and I am so tired that I don’t know what my name is and I have forgotten the rudiments of written English. So this is not exactly going to be Scott Fitzgerald putting on the Ritz.  But, true to my new One Thing theory, I had one thing of such ravishingly lovelinessContinue reading “Lockdown Diary: Day Twenty-Five.”