The sun is out, the day is warm and there are bees in the plum blossom. (which is good as last year the blossom happened before the bees did, and I was plumless).
John Clute, science fiction's finest critic, writes an obituary of Richard Cowper here . At the bottom of the page are links straight to John's obituary for George Alec Effinger, and also for an obituary for Kevin Aucoin, who was a really sweet man I only ever met and chatted to once, at Tori and Mark's wedding, on a cold day on the hill where the Medmenham Monks did their Hellfire Club stuff (only not, in reality, with Diana Rigg in bondage gear).
The sun is out, the day is warm and there are bees in the plum blossom. (which is good as last year the blossom happened before the bees did, and I was plumless).
The sun is out, the day is warm and there are bees in the plum blossom. (which is good as last year the blossom happened before the bees did, and I was plumless).