Maybe Most of the World Is Flat, but a Lot of Us Are Stuck On an Uphill Stretch

Summary

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THE sky was the grey of Presbyterian porridge. Silent birds sulked on their branches. Worms sighed under the moss. Our prophetic rabbits, Milly and Molly, were sheltering in a shrub at the back of the garden, expecting rain.

And, a few yards away, I was sitting in the conservatory with a pair of tweezers in my right hand, stretching painfully across the armchair to reach a stubborn strip of grit embedded under the big toenail on my left foot.

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Extract

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Maybe Most of the World Is Flat, but a Lot of Us Are Stuck On an Uphill Stretch

"Gotcha," I said, triumphantly, when, with a single thrust, which would have dappled the brow of old Hercules himself, the tip of my tweezers scraped the offending grit. At tha...

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