I'm in a friend's flat in the town I grew up in, where I was recently reintroduced to a chap I worked with in the 50's. One of those flashbacks have hit me in this late night moment. This guy had his tonsils out on the kitchen table of a fine art deco house just up the cliff from here.
Funny thing, memory. Must ask him to make sure of my facts, but I recall a description of a wire mini-garotte. Oooo, my.
