The lion that squeaked

We all remember those excruciatingly painful dance sequences in end of year school plays. As a long-in-the-tooth tweed jacketed teacher attacked the untuned keys of the upright piano while simultaneously pumping furiously at the worn pedals, budding Nureyevs and Fonteyns would take to the stage. With eyes adamantly fixed on their neighbours the children would twirl to the right and…

French toast

The French are the masters of indignation. Staring at an offender from the top of his Gallic aquiline nose,  a Frenchman can turn any opponent to blancmange faster than a speeding escargot. You don't cross the French. Marking Bastille Day last weekend with a cafe-au-lait and croissant in the comfort of my salon,  my mind wandered back to…