74 Great Ways To Die In Fiction

74 Great Ways To Die In Fiction

There is nothing like a terrific death in a work of fiction. But 74 great ways is better. Of course there are always a plethora of shootings and bomb blasts in fiction that bring about the final demise of both the good and bad guys, but thanks to an article I stumbled upon in The Telegraph, I can now share a graphic of the many and varied ways that William Shakespeare artistically killed off his characters. While mundane stabbing accounts for almost half, I was attracted to being baked in a pie as one means of death that really had appeal. This reminded me immediately of an 80’s movie, Eating Raul,

No Way Am I Buying A Big Mac!

No Way Am I Buying A Big Mac!

I avoid the Evil Empire of McDonald’s and the Big Mac. Here’s why? Because here where I live, there is an even better reason to give the Golden Arches a big miss. No, it’s not that a Big Mac is chemical warfare against my internal digestive organs or that one bite can deliver inches on my waistline within minutes. No. The reason I will not buy a Big Mac is that because I happen to live in Switzerland, a Big Mac will cost me a whopping $7.54! Yes, and the price doesn’t include fries and a Coke! According to the Economist’s Big Mac Index, if I had the notion to buy a Big

European English

European English

European English in everyday use “I am called Sylvie, and we are three in our family, and during two weeks we have been in Spain taking a wonderful holiday. We were very interested to see the bull fighting and we had a lovely weather all the time we were there. I am the only child in my family, but my father and mother are my nicest friends so I am not very much lonely. When we came back from Spain to our home in France we realised how much we had profited from our holiday. Normally we must to return to work on Monday. Our holiday was less long this

A Cat Named Sloopy

A Cat Named Sloopy

I thought I might share one of my favourite poems with you today. If you’ve ever heard Rod McKuen recite this, you’ll know how wonderfully touching it is. He is truly one of my all-time favourite poets, and was so lucky to have met him once briefly when I was young. Enjoy. A Cat Named Sloopy Rod McKuen In memory of my late fat cat Pashosh. For a while the only earth that Sloopy knew was in her sandbox. Two rooms on Fifty-fifth Street were her domain. Every night she’d sit in the window among the avocado plants waiting for me to come home (my arms full of canned liver