by Jon Biddle When I was young, very young, impressionable and a soldier. We had been on duty all weekend of which abruptly; we found ourselves free on a Sunday afternoon. It was pointless going home all the way to Dorset. A four-hour train ride just for the...
by Jon Biddle Talking of bad habits, I once I smoked, I know, horrible habit. I rolled my own. The smell of that tobacco, the ritual of crafting the perfect cigarette each time, took on the same diligence and etiquette as a Japanese tea ceremony. There was one fateful...
