I have a confession. I am having a wild love affair. It has been going on for years. And, as  all deep loves are, it is complicated, unfathomable, and entirely wonderful. It's time I revealed all. 

Christmas makes me ache, and not in a good way. But it was not the case when I was a child. They were teeming with magic. This year at our family Christmas, I could see the magic maker - Mother - was fading away. I may never wear a Christmas sweater, but I need to start wearing my Christmas memories more often. They soon will cease to be made. 

Sat alone in my regular bar, I witness a lot. Nothing is more gripping than a disastrous first date. Last week's was one of the most spectacular in years. But, Claudette, we salute you for your final word! 

A leaky ceiling during a heavy Lisbon storm transported me back to my first monsoon in India. The wild and dazzling rains became a dear and treasured companion during my lonely life on the other side of the world. 

A retelling of a dramatic moment on a Bavarian mountainside where I had a showdown with destiny. Sloppy racial profiling, Richard Burton, couture overcoats, and artisan Kirsch cups made for thrilling evening. 

A story about a love, my ultimate love, my gold-standard love. The love I measure all other loves against. I was sat in my bar last Friday when a song came on that picked me up and threw me into the past, into a time when a wonderful young man taught me how to love. 

A story my grandma told me, many years ago in a Punjabi garden, has been whirring again in my head for the last two weeks. It has been gobbling me up. I needed to do something with it. I need to help, somehow. But all I can do is talk. So, I hope in retelling it I can do some good  

Everything is going to be just fine, darling. The young of Europe are revolting, and in a good way. They are wired for tolerance. We old folk will be saved by their kindness.  

A handsome devil wandered into my bar. My flirt offensive was about to be unleashed, until he hurled himself across my red lines. 

I turned forty-six. A horrible number. But I am fine with getting older. Time is, however, running out on this life. I have so much more to do. So many versions of me are yet to be lived. So many wild imaginings to make real.