On queueing
The British queue is a tiny constitution: unwritten, universally ratified, enforced by eyebrow.
The archive
Essays
The allotment year
Plot 14 taught me more about patience than any book — mostly by killing my courgettes.
Other people's kitchens
You can read a whole biography in where someone keeps their wooden spoons.
Sea fret
The fog that eats the coast is the weather equivalent of a held breath.
The last phone box
It holds a defibrillator now, which is somehow the perfect ending.
In praise of the second-best café
The best café is always full. The second-best knows your order.
