Hitting the D.C. charity circuit

Hitting the D.C. charity circuit

I want to begin this post with a confession. I’ve been starting to suspect that my ‘letters from America’ might constitute a serious case of bad faith. To proffer even the gentlest mockery of a country which has found it in its heart to host me for a time:...
Befuddled by Football

Befuddled by Football

First off, it should really be called ‘Throwball’. The foot seems to have very little to do with it. The game starts with a kick, certainly. But to call it Football seems as disingenuous as calling the 100 metre sprint ‘Gunfire’ because someone starts it off with a...
Shopping in Gynaecologie

Shopping in Gynaecologie

I desperately need the loo in a shop called Anthropologie. I’m with my wife Holly – as opposed to my wife Leah, or my wife Rachel – and we are browsing ahead of her birthday. She’s flicking through the racks to hint at what she might like me to give her as a...
We’re invited to a ‘sex party’

We’re invited to a ‘sex party’

We’re invited to a ‘sex party’. I am apoplectic with excitement. What in the world will this entail? I mean, all these people we’ve met in Charlottesville. They seemed so conservative up till now – the neighbor(u)rs who brought cookies over the Sunday morning we...
Everybody’s Called ‘Chuck’

Everybody’s Called ‘Chuck’

I haven’t blogged for a couple weeks because I’ve been in the middle of moving to America, to Charlottesville, Virginia, where I’m taking up a post-doc at UVA. My wife Holly has v self-sacrificially come with me. I intend to write a series of letters...