I'm 58 and, lately, feeling it. All the things I've taken for granted, health-wise, my eyes, my back, my ability to come up with a brilliant extemporaneous quip, all seem to be going wonky at once. Anyway, I no longer teach. I've got time to write, watch football, and practice all kinds of deranged cooking experiments. This wee blog gives me permission to get on my high hobby horse about politics, Manchester United, movies, music and the horrible state of education and literature.
Ivor with his best boy, Iain Irwin
Photo by Kevin Craig
