Nothing is hotter than a mouse in leather. Ah yes, the juvenile me. If I wasn’t burning water beetles on my fathers oil drum on a forty degree day, I was daydreaming about mice. On bikes. Clad in leather.

I’ve been absent. There was that holiday to Singapore and when I returned home there was much to do.

I realised that – You CAN outrun responsibility.. But not for very long and certainly not forever.

C’est La Vie.

Are the French always so pessimistic?

Sibby x