I'm in a pickle: in my day job, we are reaching the end of a project which means that a deadline is looming. My week was long, very hot and I had writer's block. I'm tired. My colleagues are tired and stressed. A bit of a pickle. And pickles need time. I've not had much of that lately, it seems.
Both my parents grew up in the UK in the Second World War: Mum in Oxford, where her mother took in evacuees and then later also billeted soldiers. Dad grew up in Glasgow, and with his sister, Belle, evacuated to a poultry farm . Consequently, we grew up constantly hearing, "waste not, want not". Little was thrown … Continue reading Waste not, want not – I