General

And the Mountains Echoed - Khaled Hosseini The Sound of Things Falling - Juan Gabriel Vasquez Fine Boys - Eghosa Imasuen The One: A Realistic Guide to Choosing Your Soul Mate - Ben Young & Sam Adams Jesus, My Father, The CIA and Me: A Memoir of sorts - Ian Morgan Cron Networking for people who hate networking - Devora Zack. The Practice of the Presence of God - Brother Lawrence Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a world that can’t stop talking - Susan Cain The God of Small Things - Arundhati Roy

In differential calculus: the point on a curve where the curvature changes sign from +ve to -ve or vice versa; analogous to a point on a bend where the steering is momentarily straight whilst turning from left to right or vice versa In real life: the precise moment it finally sinks into a bloke’s thick skull that the girl he’s had a crush on for the past month is about to ease him into the friendzone ...

The bright warm sunshine that streamed in through the office windows – whilst I was hard at work on Friday afternoon - vanished in time for the weekend, true to form. Up here in my little corner of the world, the one gripe that we all - rich, poor, cab driver, CEO, native born or immigrant - share, is the weather and its propensity to turning on a whim at the most inopportune of moments. ...

An egg, two sausages, a slice of bacon and a hash brown.. All on a roll.. #Delish

Thirty odd people, myself included, cluster around a table in a somewhat private corner of the Monkey House. Once a quarter, the guys and girls from work all pile in here to de-stress, and let our hair down. Rumour has it that after enough beers have gone around, fortuitous slips centred around what certain bosses actually think about certain staff have been known to occur. Usually, the evening starts with a few beers and nibbles - fish fingers, spring rolls, and all the other light food we’d collectively call small chops in my other world, the small matter of a few thousand miles away. ...

She taps me on the shoulder, seemingly after several attempts to get my attention. In my defence, I have my earphones plugged in, cranked up to the maximum as usual, and have my hands in my fully done up jacket, braced up for the nip in the air, a far cry from the fairly balmy weather we’d had for all of three days that week. I am waiting for the Number 5 bus from Seafield Shops to Union Street, at a little before 20 minutes to 5pm, and besides the slowly lengthening line of cars on the opposite side of the road queuing up to get off Seafield on to Springfield road, there is an uncertain quietness to everything. At the time she tapped my shoulder, the only thing on my mind besides the cold was clearing my head of PRENs, Carbon equivalents, hydrogen embrittlement and all the other buzz words my ears had been filled up with at the training course I was on. ...

In retrospect, it was the best weekend to have been away from work - but I didn’t know that three weeks ago when on a whim I decided I needed an extended break. It just so happened that Thursday morning, which was my last work day of the week, brought with it the slight irritation of an unwelcome work event that needed a response. That event ended up spawning a response that had burgeoned into a full-fledged emergency of sorts - complete with the mindless, headless running around centred on being visible and being seen to be doing stuff, however pointless - by midmorning on Friday, by which time I was sauntering casually down Links Road, up the beach Esplanade and then unto the Boulevard with the sun on my back, tempered by a cool breeze from the sea and the barely perceptible sound of the waves lapping the shoreline, the sound track to what was a very leisurely stroll. ...

To all accounts, she could have been the right woman, at the right time, in the right place on the relationship continuum, but for the small matter of 3,000 miles making navigating the treacherous waters of getting to know her essentially from scratch that bit more difficult. We did have great conversations (maybe not great, but better than I have with most) with a range of shared interests that we explored. ...

The little kid - he’s barely eleven months - plods after his mother, hanging onto her left leg, and bawling. She has her hair swept back, hidden by the folds of the scarf she has around her head, is bedecked in baggy pants and has that forlorn, tired look only the hassle of splitting her attention between steaming pots of rice, partly boiled chicken and her 11 month old bundle of energy can cause. ...

London calls… Having manfully beaten its lure over the holidays to enable a much needed season of introspection, I had to cave in to summons over the phone from my Uncle C, especially because he and el madre seemed to be in cahoots on this one. Ostensibly, the reason for the summons are my lack of endeavour in the girl stakes. My strategy has been to keep them in the dark on the details of my love life/ non-love life. Somehow Uncle C convinced Mum that our corner of the world up in Scotland is a hell hole of sorts with next to zero prospects of meeting eligible women, hence the need to get me out there in London. ...