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Growing up in a ‘manky wee hellhole’ in 1990s Scotland
GEORG
IT had been a long, hard drive. Frances had left early, hoping to get away before the rush hour – only to discover that the rush hour started earlier still. She stopped for a break further south than
THE clamour of seagulls woke Frances. For a moment, she was disorientated. Not so much in place – she knew this bedroom well – as in time. She had the odd feeling that none of the last 30-odd years ha
Today’s staunch game-fisher has good reason to thank yesterday’s stolid coarse angler, writes Mike Handyside
SPIRITS MAFALDA QUINO Translated by Frank Wynne ...
I n the corner of the drawing room ...
Personal recollections of cherished sci-fi and fantasy
