It tasted a little like sawdust. I coughed, liberally doused my feijoada in black bean sauce and managed another mouthful. The second one was better – in fact, mixed up with some juice, the pork meat, white rice, orange and flour tasted quite delicious. ‘This dish comes from the slaves,’ said my friend Barbara, ‘but … Read moreBrazil’s Slavery Legacy..
‘You want to go somewhere?’ giggled Barbara, as we kissed passionately in her parents’ porch. ‘I can take you to a motel if you like.’ It was a little after midnight. She reversed a black Peugeot through the security gates, its engine purring contentedly on sugar cane ethanol. And we squealed off through the city … Read moreBrazil after Dark..
Don’t, whatever you do, scroll down. We’re going to play a little game. Now, how good would you say you are at spotting written mistakes? Jeepers, you’ve scrolled down already? Disqualify yourself and spend your time doing something more interesting like watching television. For those that are left, do you fancy yourselves as proofreaders? … Read moreFancy Yourself as a Proofreader?..
‘Ready Dad?’ I asked. The last thermos lid had been screwed on tight; walking boots had been donned. ‘More or less,’ he rejoined, scampering out of the conservatory door. ‘What do you mean by less,’ I pressed. ‘Well, I’ve just got to wander round the back of the garage for a wee-wee.’ Does the word … Read moreIn for a penny, in for a pound..