Our favorite was Steph’s, in Dean Street, run by the very flamboyant Steph. I was also a member of the Groucho Club, a few doors down, and we would retire there for early evening drinks when we had exhausted all conversation with whomever we descended upon at Steph’s (we once enjoyed a very jolly five-hour lunch with Tony Blackburn).
Author: Jaci Stephen
Emiliano is the pianist for the hit Broadway and London show “Forever Tango”, a show that has been seen for more than 8.000.000 people around the world, and the pianist of the group The Aces of Rhythm, a Tango sextet based in New York City. He has also served as the music director and pianist for the successful shows “Impact” and “Tango Buenos Aires”, created by Mario & Daniel Celario, and is the creator of “Barolo Tango,” a live tango show based in Argentina.
Apparently, there are some women on the planet who will do anything to get the men in their life out of it. Given the amount of trouble I have getting them in there in the first place, not to mention acquiring enough chloroform, rope and chains to keep them there, I can’t see that it’s a problem I’m ever going to encounter.
She’s suffered from eating disorders and severe anxiety throughout her teenage years, and it’s good to see, as she said this week, that she finally feels comfortable in her own skin. Good for her.
I have always loved snow. As a kid, I loved the arbitrariness of snowfall: going to bed at night, my head packed with the images and emotions of the day, and then, waking, to the white of transformation. Everything gone. The clean slate. Everything new. The opportunity to start again.
Does anyone who doesn’t like sleeping in a tent and talking b*****ks when high, care that Coachella has been canceled again?
Should you find yourself in the unlikely position of not having enough time to watch the movies everyone is talking about, here’s a summary of just a few.
Decided not to have a dog because I could well be 79 when it dies, if it lives as long as our others did. Heck, it could end up having to organize my funeral.
This was not the body that lifted me up to Georgie in his budgerigar’s cage, saying “Night, night, Georgie;” nor the hands that held my clammy forehead over the toilet bowl when I was sick. Dad was slipping away to a place he had not yet been, and I was helpless to pull him back.
Twitter banning Donald Trump has done wonders for my mental and emotional health.