I’m on the inside looking out.
On the Beat
It’s your typical rainy British day as I amble up the hill to Sir Winston Churchill Park in the northern tip of South Hill.
With all the citywide post office closures, why not remember where snail mail got its start in a much younger Hogtown?
“Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends,” Greg Lake sings, “We’re so glad you could attend, come inside, come inside.”
On Super Bowl Sunday I’m thinking baseball.
I need an escape.
I was entering the valley of the squirrels.
My camera was giving me grief.
I was hoping a run-in with Jason Voorhees on my way to my apartment wouldn’t set the tone for my monthly walk.
Have you ever had to retrace your steps?