The Hawks Nib
It’s a Butey!
Tuesday 20 JulyI sit at the window of a kitchen that is mine for the week, like a cat safe in the knowledge its curiosity won't kill it here. On…
A Quickie
Where has the time since my last post gone? I wonder if now I'm that old time moves in odd ways; or, rather, the way I experience time has changed?…
Stinging Sixties
Thanks to my parents not being able to keep their hands off each other for, preferably, another twenty years, a week ago I became sixty. I've known it was going…
Early Spring Walk
Lockdown, One Year On.
Tuesday was the anniversary of lockdown, here, and I meant to write this post then. But I had my first jag on Monday and looking at the computer screen gave…
Bloody Marvellous!
https://youtu.be/sJmc78h3EFsSunday Music* I've been a fan of Erik Satie ever since I read that he always wore one of (I think it was) fourteen (but feel free to put me…
Apple Lane
The Dig
Me, digging – pulling silly faces for the camera is easier than trying to look not-hideous these days. Saturday 27 February 2021The rain has abated and, although you wouldn't call…
Embracing the Strange
It struck me, as I lambasted myself for having watched three You Tubes in a row on how to get the most out of Big Sur, that instead of fighting…
In the Liminal
Lost in the In-Between I seem to have fallen between the cracks again. The cracks in democracy – I knew the Republicans wouldn't have the guts, but all the same,…
Cook Your Own Stories
Literary Diet, the final dayTomorrow it won't be January any more, which feels rather abrupt. But there are still a few hours left of the month in which The Guardian…
Literary Cleanse: days 23 to 30.
I'm so behind with posting about The Guardian's Literary Diet that I'm reduced to just giving highlights. Day 23 was Roger Robinson (right) reading from his TS Eliot Prize winning…