They happened during a pigeon-fanciers conference in the old Commodore-Vanderbilt Hotel on Vanderbilt Avenue across from Grand Central Terminal in Manhattan. The bombs. Row upon row of square bird cages were lined up on tables running the length of the ballroom, and festive people, mostly men, knotted the aisles between, chatting amiably, bragging and showing off particularly prized pigeons. Broad rays of light from the gallery windows brightened the scene and fell on the cages. I looked at highlighted...

About now, some people who might be reading this blog (not my Three Devoted Readers, they know me better) might be thinking to themselves, “Well, Irene certainly knows her booze, but does she actually read?” Indeed, I do! Amazing, but true. What I don’t do is write well-crafted and insightful book reviews, anymore than I write well-crafted and insightful cocktail reviews. I leave that for others. I just chat about both because both bring me pleasure. And so onward…

I don’t know...

This morning, while getting ready for work, I was watching/recording, “The Astonished Heart,” a rarely seen film featuring the rarely seen on film Noel Coward. I don’t usually watch films before heading to the office in the morning and, as I say, I was recording this for later viewing, but…well, it was Noel Coward Dammit, so I put on my face, as we ladies say, at the living room mirror listening to that remarkable voice and catching glimpses of that slicked-backed hair, those arching eyebrows,...