So, that great wave has broken against the rocks and sprawled its way across the sand. The wild thing in me, washed away. Way back along the shore, there’s me, watching these crazy thoughts splinter in the sunshine. Continue reading
Summer is upon us. After weeks of dreary, non-committal weather, we are having one supple day after another of Apollinian bliss here in London.
And like a sun-baked lizard, I seem to have come alive. Continue reading
This is a short one, because my eyeballs have assumed the role of a slot machine, periodically rolling back into my head expecting to toss out a matching pair of cherries. I can’t seem to stay awake past 9.30 most nights. So, it being close to midnight means that I’m on the cusp of delirium. Continue reading
I’m not sure how it all began. Maybe it was a slow brew thing. Maybe it started with music. Something rousing, nostalgic, threading a line back to that person I was. The one that tried and failed and tried again. Continue reading
With Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s passing late last night, a memory. I open an old copy of One hundred years of solitude and find something unexpected. A note written in my handwriting, addressed to Ben. I gave him this book a few months after we got together. At the time, I didn’t realise how prescient an act that was. Continue reading
One night, lying in bed, saying goodnight to Rosie. Ben is there, too. We’re all squashed in, listening to a recording of Alan Bennett reading Winnie the Pooh, when Rosie says: “What happens if you get married again, Daddy?” Continue reading