I love beginnings. Endings and what comes in between, I’m not too keen on. Beginnings are the best. We’re talking books here, not lives or love affairs. Well, maybe the very short love affairs but certainly not life.
(COE22) Late in the evening on Tuesday 13th of February the Danish prince consort, Prins Henrik, died in Fredensborg Castle after a period of severe illness.
My friend Antonio, who owns a bar on the Granada coast is, I guess, about the nicest, gentlest man on earth. Also the cleanliest.
Please excuse me for being so Frank. After all, my name is Jes, not Frank, so I guess we’re kind of the 2018 version of the one-man James Brothers’ Gang: I’m Jesse and I’m Frank.
I might as well say these words, while I still can, for puritanism and political correctness are taking over in Old Denmark…
I’m not addicted to heroine. But I am, in some ways, addicted to heroines. You know, with an ‘s;’ female heroes. Addicted to female anything actually…
I don’t know for sure whether or not The Royal Mail in Denmark, these days governed more or less by Swedish funds and now called Post Nord.
Back on the Costa Granadina it’s so nice to have summer back. At least I think so after a great September in Denmark and a not so nice opening of October. Pepe doesn’t agree, though.
As I write, it is still uncertain whether or not Mr and Mrs Denmark are going to the polling stations this autumn, only little more than a year after the latest election.