Last Thursday I went to bed with a Java menu. I put aside “All The Light We Cannot See” by Anthony Doerr just as American bombers bore down on a small French borough, the last outpost occupied by Germans …
Remember those days in primary school when they made us write about our holidays? A whole one page foolscap of it. You wouldn’t believe how I would embellish mine; half-lies. Tales. Lores. Then they’d send you off with 37/40 …
