Category: Andrei Navrozov

Time was, construction workers high up on the scaffolding would whistle at classy dames passing below.

The song with which this buffoon entertains the lunch crowd before passing round the hat is “Bella Ciao.”

A couple of times a year I cook borsch. Fits of nostalgia aren’t the reason, and I would make this wholesome soup more often if beets, its principal ingredient, were easier to come by in the south of Italy.

I would be somewhat offended if the gentle reader thought even for a moment that I had watched this film before writing about it.

Continuing last week’s ruminations about things that endure and are to be celebrated for their virtue…

On other occasions I have shared with the gentle reader my experience of the precariousness characteristic of an unemployed writer’s life…

I analyzed the “Twitter herd” instinct in this space before, but the heat has now made it truly Gadarene. The swine, in fact, quite possibly leapt into the Sea of Galilee because they wanted to cool off.

I was so flabbergasted at the turn of events that I’ve sent in a photograph with today’s copy to quash any misgivings.

Those moments I attempted to capture here last week did actually flash through my mind when the quake hit, but now I thought, why not keep going?