Now I'm back for an annual auto-show pilgrimage, which also allows a catch-up with friends, family and the city that I love — sort of.
On seeing the show last year, he recalled loving "that sort of unquenchable zany energy and all that un-p.c.
I am unlikely to accept as "loving" the sort of god that demands that we suffer unnecessarily.
Think of it rather as a nice-geeks-in-love sort of scenario, and the work becomes more inviting.
You might even construe him as hopeful in a tough-love sort of way.
The bride and groom are a charmed couple: arrestingly good-looking, effortlessly successful and deeply in love, sort of; or, anyway, made for each other.
Sadly, the undying love sort of died but I still love the place and the food is far too good to be put off coming back because of some boy.
They fall in love, sort of, but he is already promised to another.
It cost him his marriage; that and his desire to be a "free love" sort of hippie.
I love that sort of music, also the Manic Street Preachers, Dire Straits, Billy Joel, that sort of thing.
