I love writing about life in my neighbourhood. Writing it makes it real and I feel more part of it. My fingers whizzing over on the keys and recording the life anchors me to it. Here’s a mid-winter serving… As I leave home to head for the station and then to lunch, the wind whips around my street and bits of paper and empty chip bags whirl by. It was rubbish collection this morning and the bin men have been careless. The old Greek man who regularly sits on his porch smoking calls out. “Windy!” I think this is what…
