Last month I managed to steal a weekend away to the Highlands. The weather was balmy for March, with summer feeling as though it had arrived early. Not a cloud in the sky, taps aff, etcetera. The trip seemed blessed by the sun itself, a well-timed getaway destined to be plenty of fun. The journey…
A comedy of errors without much to laugh about, 1994’s How Late It Was, How Late was a second-hand purchase of mine bought on a whim. It stuck out in the Scottish Literature section like a sore thumb as the title rang the bells of familiarity in my head. Counting out my loose change to…
I always find it a point of total fascination that watching a film or listening to an album can be experiences where your enjoyment of what you’re consuming is not a guaranteed constant. Returning to stuff you used to like can sometimes provoke warm nostalgia, or otherwise make you coldly question what you even liked…