From the Pulpit
A revealing encounter in Turkey stands clear in Matt Bishop's memories of Michael Schumacher...
The midday sun was shining brightly and my friend was reading the Sunday papers in his garden. By his right hand was a tall glass of gin 'n' tonic, over plenty of ice, with a hefty dash of Angostura bitters and loads of lemon zest, just how he liked his G&Ts. Lunch was beginning to smell good.
Nearby, his seven-year-old son was racing the neighbour's kid round and round on their bikes. It was a hot day - too hot for mowing lawns, for example. So the peals of children's laughter - oh, and the clink of ice cubes against cold glass - were the only sounds my friend could hear. Idyllic.
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