christchurch meadow, oxford…

I ‘discovered’ Christchurch Meadow very soon after I moved to Oxford in September 1967 (which, somewhat frightening, is nearly 60 years ago now!).
Yesterday, I was meeting up in Oxford for lunch with some very ‘old’ friends (we regularly played golf together) and couldn’t resist getting an earlier train so I could explore some of my old haunts. Christchurch Meadow is one of my very favourite locations in the UK… and, for me, so evocative (arriving as a working-class youth from Handsworth, Birmingham in the glorious city of Oxford to start my architectural studies).
Yesterday was one of those perfect Autumnal days… sunny and bright… and everywhere was looking rather magnificent.
Happy days!

steve...

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Tim Mielants’s film ‘Steve’, starring the wonderful Cillian Murphy as the frazzled head of a reform school for delinquent, damaged teenage boys. The film, adapted by Max Porter from his 2023 novel ‘Shy’, is set over 24 hours at the school in the 1990s residential reform school.
It’s a devastating dual portrait of embattled headmaster Steve (Murphy) and troubled student Shy (brilliantly played by Jay Lycurgo); both are grappling with their own demons: for Steve, substance abuse and addiction; for vulnerable Shy, all-consuming depression (plus his mother and stepfather decide to cut all contact with him).
This particular day is even more complicated by the fact that there’s a film crew on site (shooting a ‘local interest segment’ for local evening news programme) and, if that wasn’t enough, the local, pompous Tory MP has decided to visit for a photo opportunity. As you might imagine, the behaviour in the classroom is even harder to contain than normal. Oh, and on top of that, Steve receives news that the Local Authority has sold the building for a housing development, so the school will have to close within a matter of a few months!
It’s a gripping, unsettling, shocking and exhausting film (Wendy Ide in ‘The Observer’ describes it as “a nerve-shredding portrait of troubled souls”).
Both the language and action is frequently violent and confrontational… and the acting is absolutely first-rate. In addition to Murphy (who is just brilliant) and Lycurgo, there are impressive performances by Tracey Ullman (deputy head), rapper Little Simz (teacher) and Emily Watson (school therapist)… plus all the boys.
I felt utterly drained by the end - lots of tough stuff, but also strangely and powerfully uplifting. A truly exceptional film.
Note: I’d previously read Porter’s book ‘Shy’ (which I regarded as “very special”)… and our Storysmith bookgroup were honoured by his presence at one of our sessions (I KNOW!)(he was very impressive and a very nice man) when we discussed his book ‘Lanny’. I chatted to him for a time and, instead of signing my copy of his book, he drew me an amazing image of a tree. A real collector’s piece!

august-september 2025 books…

Give Unto Others (Donna Leon): I’ve read several Donna Leon’s ‘Commissario Brunetti Mysteries’ over the years – but this is my first for more than 3 years (I think I read half a dozen in 2022!). I love the Brunetti cynical character and, of course, that the books’ settings are based in Venice – emerging from the Covid pandemic in this one. As ever, the plot is clever and complicated (and I’m tempted to add contrived!)… involving family deceptions, old age, financial scams and the like. As often happens with Leon’s books, I frequently found myself having to check on the list of characters and their relationships with each other. An enjoyable read, but certainly not one of Leon’s best (in my opinion)… and I actually found it somewhat frustrating that the ‘case’ (which wasn’t a police case at all) involved Brunetti using his police colleagues to help him sort out a problem first brought to him by a family friend. Not the best use of police resources perhaps?  
The Blue Flower (Penelope Fitzgerald): First published in 1995, it tells the story of Friedrich von Hardenberg (Fritz) - destined to become one of Germany's great romantic poets of the late 18th century (becoming the great romantic poet and philosopher Novalis). The novel’s cover summarises things: “The year is 1794 and Fritz, passionate, idealistic and brilliant, is seeking his father’s permission to announce his engagement to his heart’s desire: twelve-year-old Sophie. His astounded family and friends are amused and disturbed by his betrothal. What can he be thinking?”. It’s a story from a romantic era – with all its political turmoil and intellectual snobbery(?) – and also a charming, wry, and witty look at domestic life – despite Sophie’s poor health. Fritz’s position in the minor Saxon nobility had limited opportunities. The book’s introduction describes his background thus: “His family had estates, a household, a respectable allocation of linen, duties, a nag or two, habits of generosity; not money”. In order to make his living, Fritz embarks on a career overseeing processes of salt mining. Sophie is far from exceptional in most people’s eyes (as well as being very young!): “an ordinary-looking girl… with nice hair and dark eyes”. Indeed, Fritz’s brother Erasmus describes her thus: “Fritz, Sophie is stupid!”. I have to admit that I frequently found it difficult to keep up with all the names of the complex Hardenberg and their various friends and contacts. I enjoyed Fitzgerald’s somewhat cynical, sardonic writing style and surprising humour (despite the sadness of the story)(*no spoilers!*)… and that the novel was broken down into 55 fairly brief chapters (which greatly helped me – especially for the first 100 pages or so!). But, by and large (although my perception became more positive by the second half of the book), the novel failed to hold my attention or properly retain my interest. Intriguing, but perhaps not quite for me.
Poems (Anna Akhmatova): This is another book of poetry that I’m using for my daily early morning reflections (beautifully and sensitively translated by DM Thomas). I came across Akhmatova’s writing only thanks to an interview I’d read in The Observer (I think?) by writer/farmer/environmentalist James Rebanks. Akhmatova (1889-1966) is regarded as one of Russia’s greatest 20^th century poets. I’m taking things gently and have only read through six of her short books thus far (‘Evening’, ‘Rosary’, ‘By The Seashore’, ‘White Flock’, ‘Plantain’ and ‘Anno Domini’)… but I’ve been very impressed and very pleased to have come across her work (and look forward to reading more).
The Member Of The Wedding (Carson McCullers): This is our Storysmith’s bookgroup next book choice (theme: weddings). First published in 1946, it focusses on 12-year-old tomboy Frankie – living in an unnamed Southern town in Georgia in the American South during 1943. The specific setting includes Frankie's family home – frequently with Berenice (cook), 6-year-old John Henry West (first cousin) and Frankie playing cards around the kitchen table - her father's jewellery store, and the Black neighbourhood of Sugarville. These provide a backdrop for the novel's themes of isolation and the protagonist Frankie's coming-of-age. Somewhat surprisingly the wedding of the book’s title (between Frankie’s brother Jarvis and Janice) doesn’t really feature prominently (although Frankie is determined that she should be allowed to join the couple on their honeymoon!). It’s much more a book about the border between childhood and adolescence… and the pangs of growing up (‘a portal to adulthood’ as Ali Smith describes it in the Introduction); the book’s cover emphasises “a girl torn between the yearning to belong and the urge to run away” – which I felt was quite an accurate assessment. In many ways, it’s a novel of unfinished stories… frequently hovering between humour and grief/sadness. It’s written in three parts and rendered in a ‘stream of consciousness’ format – which I sometimes found quite difficult to follow. Each part contains paragraph after paragraph without a break; virtually no chapters or even gaps between paragraphs (I like books to have a particular rhythm of chapters so found this book’s format a little frustrating). It’s only a short book (178 pages) and yet, unusually for me, it seemed to take quite a long time for me to finish it. Having said that I really did quite enjoy it - not one of my ‘books-of-the-year’ books perhaps, but a compelling read.
The Little Red Chairs (Edna O’Brien): As you know, I love O’Brien’s writing and this novel (published in 2015) is no exception. It begins with a wanted Balkan war criminal – disguised as a self-styled ‘holistic healer’ – who arrives in a small village on the west coast of Ireland. The community is soon under the spell of this charismatic stranger. One married woman, in particular, becomes fatally attracted to the man and begs him to ‘give her a baby’… with dark, startling consequences. The woman is forced to leave her homeland and moves through a myriad of settings, including cleaning offices along with other exploited migrant workers in central London, working at a home for retired greyhounds in the Kent countryside, and attending a war crimes tribunal at the Hague. I think I should leave it there. It’s a book with breathtaking twists and turns… and I was hugely impressed (note: the book’s title relates to the siege of Sarajevo in 1992 by Bosnian Serb forces; 11,541 red chairs – one chair for every citizen killed - were laid out along the city’s high street to commemorate the siege’s 20^th anniversary).

and so another cricket season is about to end…

I went along to watch Gloucestershire play Northants today… I made it despite disruptions due to a bus strike (hey ho!).
Day 2 of 4 – although no play at all yesterday, due to rain and high winds(!) – and, sadly, from the weather forecasts I’ve seen, it looks as though there’ll be very little cricket played on Days 3+4.
Today’s weather was absolutely fine though and a pretty good day’s play too (although they had to stop play early due to bad light). Gloucester bowled out Northants for 206, but rather struggled to 65-3 at the close.
I know I say the same thing every year, but I do hate the fact that the County Championship (ok, Glos are in the second division!) comes to a climax at the very end of September – when the days are somewhat shorter and the weather is deteriorating.
I suspect that the entire competition will have folded within the next ten years – in favour of 100% bish-bash, limited over stuff (which obviously attracts the crowds and makes money). For many oldies like me, it’ll be the end of a golden era…
Who will last longest? County Championship cricket or me?
But, hey, today I just enjoyed watching the cricket and listening to the old codgers sitting near me recall their past sporting achievements… “Did I ever tell the time I scored my maiden century at the Oval?” (they talked such things non-stop for the entire day); fast bowlers bowling with three slips and a gully; batters (as they’re now referred to, not ‘batsmen’!) playing elegant shots through the covers; leisurely run-rates of some 3-4 runs per over (not 10-16!!); not to mention (but, of course, I will) the fact that matches can be played over 4-5 days and STILL end in a draw!
Cricket, lovely cricket.  
Photo: I thought this photograph (taken at today’s game) rather ‘said it all’: lots of empty seats (today’s attendance was in the order of perhaps just 120-150 in total!)… and, although, you might not see it clearly if you’re looking at the photograph on your phone, there are cobwebs between each pair of seats!

august 2025 books...

Yesterday Morning (Diana Athill): I’ve read a lot of Athill’s books over the years. She died in 2019, aged 101. Until she was 14, she was educated at home by governesses – before a spell at boarding school, and on to read English at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford, in 1936. Then she discovered that she had to earn her own living(!) and ultimately became one of book publishing’s most remarkable editors. In this memoir (first published in 2002), she explores her privileged childhood – England in the 1920s, seen with a clear and unsentimental eye from the vantage point of the 21^st century. There’s a stark honesty about her writing that I love.
Violeta (Isabel Allende): I was recommended this book (first published in 2022) by lovely Penny. I hadn’t previously read anything by Allende and was somewhat put off by Wikipedia’s “magical realism” description of her as a writer. Violeta is this novel’s 100-year-old storyteller. Born in South America (probably Chile) in 1920, during the influenza pandemic, and recounting the story of her life to her beloved 50-year-old grandson, during the outbreak of coronavirus in 2020. It’s a tale of passions, heartbreak, poverty, wealth and life’s losses and joys. The book also acts as a timely(?) reminder to readers of fascist dictatorships, repression, power and greed… not to mention patriarchy, domestic violence, justice/injustice, mistreatment of women etc etc. Allende is a very impressive storyteller and I found this a really powerful and riveting novel (although, interestingly, it hasn’t given me the urge to read lots more of her books).
The Commitments (Roddy Doyle): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (based around musical theme)(first published in 1988). I always enjoy Doyle’s writing but, strangely, hadn’t previously read this book – although I’d seen the 1991 film when it first came out. You probably know the story… the description of the book’s jacket sums things up perfectly: “Barrytown, Dublin, has something to sing about. The Commitments are spreading the gospel of soul. Ably managed by Jimmy Rabbitte, brilliantly coached by Joey ‘The Lips’ Fagan, their twin assault on Motown and Barrytown takes them by leaps and bounds from parish hall to the steps of the studio door”. It’s feisty, rude, funny and charming… beautifully conceived and brilliantly observed – with the sung lyrics of lots of songs that I knew well (would it be ‘over-the-heads’ of anyone in their 20s/30s?). Some wonderful characters. A very enjoyable read.
Where The Streams Come From (Chris Goan): Once again, I’m using this book of poetry (first published in 2018) by my good friend Chris (even though we’ve never met – just a few zoom calls!) as part of my early morning reflections. Again and again, I find that his thought-provoking, powerful words get to heart of what I’m thinking and feeling. I love how he frequently adds notes at the bottom of a page to set his words in context and how they came about. A wonderful way of starting my mornings – often setting the rhythm and tone for the rest of the day. 
Flight To Arras (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry): Moira bought this book (first published in 1942) at a second-hand bookstall… but ended up deciding that it wasn’t for her! The time is 1940. Saint-Exupéry is sent on a reconnaissance flight over enemy-occupied France. The country is a shambles, his flight is pointless, and his chances of getting back alive are 2-to-1 against. It’s about the futility of war; a picture of a defeated country and something of a portrait of men “who contribute to defeat by putting humanity above patriotism” (as the book’s cover blurb puts it). It’s an impressive, passionate book (although I found its penultimate chapter too much like a Sunday sermon for my liking!) about death, childhood, sacrifice, identity, and civilization. After finishing the book, I sadly discovered that, whilst on a reconnaissance flight over the Mediterranean in 1943, his plane disappeared, probably having been shot down by a German fighter. 

july-august 2025 books…

After The Apocalypse (Chris Goan): I keep coming back to this book of poetry by my good friend Chris… and, once again, I’ve been using it as part of my daily early morning reflections. It’s a book about Chris’s journey before, during and after the pandemic… and, again and again, I felt he was describing MY journey and MY thoughts. It’s a journey that many of us have shared over recent years… and one that, I for one, am still on. I’ve been re-visiting the section of the book entitled ‘Before’. Inspiring, challenging, thought-provoking and hopeful.
Notes On Nationalism (George Orwell): Three extended essays, written in 1945, on nationalism and antisemitism in Britain – as the book’s cover describes it: “biting and timeless reflections on patriotism, prejudice and power”. I found the essays fascinating and, somewhat frighteningly, felt that so much of what Orwell was saying 80 years ago is still massively relevant today… “falsified information; much of the propagandist writing of our time amounts to plain forgery; belief in the superiority of the proletariat; antisemitism is on the increase… and humane and enlightened people are not immune to it”. Sobering and thought-provoking.
Beside The Sea – Britain’s Lost Seaside Heritage (Sarah Freeman): I bought this book from our local ‘£5 bookshop’ (published in 2015) celebrating what the book describes as “a forgotten time and place in British Life”. It features stories of the most popular UK seaside resorts. It was the Blackpool holiday destination that attracted my interest (throughout my childhood - certainly from the mid-1950s to 1966, with only a couple of exceptions), we had our annual family holiday in Blackpool. The book features 19 seaside locations in all – including Morecombe, Scarborough, Margate, Llandudno, Southport and Brighton. The book is a wonderful collection of archive photography, combined with memories from people who worked and holidayed at these resorts. Fascinating images and the memories from a bygone age. An enjoyable read.
The Bees (Carol Ann Duffy): I’ve been re-reading this (first published in 2011 – her first collection of poems as Poet Laureate) as part of my early morning reflections. Although I was stirred by her poems relating to her dying mother, to war/dying soldiers and to some of her more political writings, I’ve come to the conclusion that, although she’s clearly an impressive writer, her work is not quite ‘my taste’ in poetry. My loss no doubt.
Olive Kitteridge (Elizabeth Strout): I love Strout’s writing. This one (first published in 2008), like many of her books, tells stories of ordinary people in Maine, New England – here, focussing on a retired schoolteacher, Olive Kitteridge. Kitteridge is an elderly (late-60s/early70s), indomitable, unpredictable and uncompromising character… married to a good man. The book’s brief description of her gives you some idea: “Olive Kitteridge had never in anyone’s memory felt inclined to be affable, or even polite…”! Although, perhaps due to Kitteridge’s lack of compassion, kindness, warmth, and humour (although she did make me laugh!), I didn’t find it a ‘cosy’ read. At times it was pretty bleak – sometimes exposing loneliness and the harsh realities of ageing – but also acting as a reminder that we never stop learning about ourselves. Once again, Strout’s wonderful storytelling won me over. 

beside the sea…

I bought a book from our local ‘£5 bookshop’ (‘Beside The Sea – Britain’s Lost Seaside Heritage’ by Sarah Freeman, published in 2015) celebrating what the book describes as “a forgotten time and place in British Life”. It features stories of the most popular destinations – from Brighton and Margate to Scarborough and Blackpool.
It was the Blackpool holiday destination that attracted by interest.
Throughout my childhood (certainly from the mid-1950s to 1966 – with only a couple of exceptions), we had our annual family holiday in Blackpool. My Dad’s family used to holiday in Blackpool every year in the 1940s/50s, so it had been something of a family tradition. Actually, although we did stay in central Blackpool for perhaps 3-4 years in the 1950s (my memory is pretty hazy, so that might not be entirely correct), we ended up in Bispham – just 2 or 3 miles up the coast – where it was much, much quieter and where the beach was empty enough to allow us mark out cricket and football pitches without difficulty!
I think the remarkable/scary Blackpool photograph is probably from the late 1940s/early 1950s – it was never quite as packed for our holidays! It shows men dressed in their suits (complete with collars and ties) and women in thick/elegant coats… deckchairs crammed together and virtually no visible sand/beach!!
My main Blackpool memories include: tram rides; pier shows; the Tower circus (featuring the inimitable Charlie Cairoli); bathing beauty competitions(!); trips to the Pleasure Beach on Friday evenings (before leaving for home the following day); the boating pool (which I understand closed in the early 1970s?); cricket and boating at Stanley Park. In the early years, we travelled up to Blackpool from Brum via Sandwell Coaches (I think we once travelled by train) and I suppose, in the latter years, we might have travelled up by car – but, ridiculously, I can’t actually remember!
It was all so different then…

july 2025 books…

Dark Days (James Baldwin): Three extended essays - written in 1965, 1980 and 1985 - by the redoubtable American writer and civil rights activist (1924-1987). They draw on Baldwin’s own experiences of prejudice in an America violently divided by race. This note on the book’s cover describe the essays perfectly: “These searing essays blend the intensely personal with the political to envisage a better world”. As the title suggests, it’s a tough read – but an articulate, challenging and powerful product of a brilliant mind.
Tell Me Everything (Elizabeth Strout): Strout is one of my favourite writers (this is the seventh book of hers I’ve read). It’s strange, when you start reading a book, KNOWING that you’re going to really enjoy it… and having that awful feeling of not wanting to finish it, because you know there will be an awful sense of ‘loss’ or even ‘grief’ when you do. It’s a novel about ‘normal people’… about relationships and ageing… about sadness and illumination… about joys and hopes… about connection and unnoticed lives. I think I’ll leave it there (*no spoilers*), but just to say that it ticked SO many boxes for me. I loved it. Compelling and quite brilliant.
Carrying The Elephant (Michael Rosen): Another book of poetry/prose (first published in 2002) that I’ve been using for my early morning reflections. I love Rosen’s writing and his ability to comment on the everyday stuff of life. But at the heart of this series of pieces is the shocking reality of the sudden death from meningitis of his 18 year-old son. There are also reflections on his own life… his left-wing Jewish upbringing, with baffling childhood trips to Trafalgar Square, eastern Europe and hospital, followed by trainee days at the BBC under the watchful eyes of MI5, breakdown of a marriage, development of a new relationship and the joy of a new baby. A challenging, unflinching mixture of painful honesty, wonder, surprise and humour.
Time And Tide (Edna O’Brien): As you probably know, I adore O’Brien’s writing… but, strangely, I struggled for the first 100 or so pages of this novel (first published in 1992). It’s a story of Nell, an impulsive Irish country girl, who runs off to marry an older man, estranging herself from her disapproving parents… it doesn’t go well and she ends up being trapped in London with her two small sons. What I initially found hard to handle were Nell’s unrelenting crises with life (often of her own making)… trying to leave her husband and make a new life for herself as an independent, free-spirited and often wild single mother. But, eventually, I found myself taken over by the compelling story (and the quality of the writing). The novel is a complex mixture of tenderness, innocence, folly and sadness… and, at times, comedy. Stunningly well written. Quite brilliant.
Next To Nature (Ronald Blythe): I started this excellent book in August last year and have gently worked my way through it (published in 2023) over the course of the last 12 months. Blyth (who died in January 2023, aged 100) lived at the end of an overgrown farm track in Wormingford, for almost half a century, in a house once owned by his artist friend John Nash. The book is something of a monthly diary, as the book’s cover puts it, “observing the slow turn of the agricultural year, the church calendar and village life”. I enjoyed his references of his garden tasks and his somewhat haughty white cat. The church was obviously an important part of Blythe’s life (he was a lay reader at the local churches), so I’ll forgive him for what, at times, felt like ‘too much church’! I’ve really enjoyed reading the book at the start of the day – part of my early morning routine - and know I’ll miss its gentle discipline marking the rhythm of the year. No doubt I’ll return to it from time to time.