december 2025 books...

On Friendship (Andrew O’Hagan): My good friend Peter lent me this rather beautiful book of eight essays on friendship… which I read slowly to myself as part of my early morning reflections (apparently, they’re re-worked from a series recorded for Radio4). The essays include recollections about a lost childhood friend from the council estate where he grew up in North Ayrshire; about former colleagues at the London Review of Books, where O’Hagan made his name in the 1990s; and about his adult daughter’s bygone imaginary friend. For me, a particular highlight concerned his long-standing friendship with the late Irish novelist Edna O’Brien, whom he first met in London in 2009. They ended up meeting regularly together during which “we called upon each other to complete thoughts we were unable to have alone”. A really lovely book.
The Wilder Path (Deborah Tomkins): Tomkins attended one of the recent ‘Resonate’ sessions at St Stephen’s church… (just a side note: I thought the book’s cover+titles bore a ‘rather close’ resemblance to Raynor Winn’s ‘The Salt Path’ and ‘The Wild Silence’ books!). I was intrigued by the fact that this was a novel about Climate Change (as opposed to non-fiction). The action takes place over a number of years (I found the timescale somewhat confusing!). The book starts with Rosalie, the narrator, caught between Cornish cliffs in an unforgiving storm… reflecting back on the death of one of her sons several years before in sea tragedy (he was an environmental ‘activist’ volunteering with Greenpeace) – his death continued to haunt her; she and her family were hugely sceptical about their son’s climate concerns… but, after due research, Rosalie becomes evangelically convinced that her son was right… and, much to her family’s and friends’ cynicism, she becomes wholly immersed in advocating and adopting a carbon neutral lifestyle (given a mission to save the world?) (*no spoilers*). I have to say that I was hugely disappointed in the book… yes, the Rosalie character was a little eccentrically ‘crazy’ (understatement) but, frankly, she didn’t come across as a credible individual at all in my view. It’s a very readable book – and, in some ways, it reads a bit like a parable – but I have to say that I ended up feeling frustrated and somewhat annoyed with the author (I know!). Sorry!
Sympathy Tower (Rie Qudan): This was a ‘lucky dip’ gift from Storysmith’s Christmas party! The book attracted controversy for being partly written (5%?) using AI. It’s set in the near-future where the practice of a radical sympathy toward criminals has become the norm. Acclaimed Japanese architect, Sara Machina, has been commissioned to build a new tower in the heart of Tokyo (right next to Zaha Hadid’s Olympic Stadium) to house convicted criminals (now considered to be victims of circumstance) in “compassionate comfort” (no one every wanted to leave!). The architect is haunted by a crime she experienced as a young girl… which causes her to doubt the values of the project. The concept of the book is intriguing and clever (despite my distinct reservations about AI chatbot) but, for me, it really failed to hold my interest.
The Children’s Book (AS Byatt): This is our Storysmith Christmas/New Year book (an opportunity to read somewhat ‘longer’ books – this one: just 615 pages!). This novel, published in 2009, provides a particular slice of late 19th-century life – with its precariously utopian values, resolute Fabians, unstable artists, progressive humane values etc. Novelist Olive Wellwood (a ‘magical tales’ author) writes a special private book for each of her children, who play in a story-book world… but (as the book’s dustjacket puts it!) “their lives and those of their rich cousins and their friends are already inscribed with mystery”. It’s a complex, intricate, compelling story involving some five(?) families and in locations ranging from a rambling farmhouse in Kent; the South Kensington Museum; Dungeness; London; Germany; and Cambridge University; to war-torn battlefields and hospitals. From the very start, I quickly became aware of the vast number of characters involved (not to mention all the swarming children!) and realised that I’d never remember them all: eg. which of the individuals would come to play major roles in the story? who was related to who? Hilariously, I resorted to scribbling FOUR pages of notes that I kept referring to and adding various ‘details’ as I went along (complete with lots of arrows indicating obscure ‘potential links’ between characters)! The novel covers a wealth of subjects - from late Victorian banking crises; class; marriage; infidelity; poverty; pottery; puppetry; the Arts and Crafts; war; politics; duty; and the Fabian and suffrage movements… and a whole range of unexpected(?) couplings, sudden appearances/disappearances and individual histories of the characters themselves. At times, it’s a little difficult to keep up but, overall, it tells a credible story – although, for me, some of the ‘loose ends’ were perhaps tidied up a little too convincingly at the end. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed it. She’s a very gifted storyteller.
Advent Readings From Iona (Brian Woodcock+Jan Sutch Pickard): I used this book as part of my early morning reflections for the Advent period (I’ve used it as various times over the past 15 years or so). Strangely(?), although I found a number of the daily musings quite thought-provoking, overall I realised that the words (especially the biblical references) no longer resonated with me in quite the same way and I rather struggled. Somewhat typical of my spiritual journeying perhaps.
Ridiculously, it turns out that I’ve read NINETY books this year! 

2025 reflections...

I’ve been blogging New Year reflections for something like 16 years (just for me). I was tempted to drop this ‘tradition’ last year, but ended up persevering… and this year feels somewhat similar. Yes, I absolutely accept there’s nothing particularly exciting about these reflections (understatement!) – but they act as a reminder of matters that I might soon forget!
So, using the usual sort of headings:
BOOKS
This year, I’ve read 90 books (I keep a tally as a reminder!)(last year it was 80 and the previous year 85!). It seems ridiculous that I used to be one of those people who only read four books a year – and two of them would have been while on holiday! My favourite books were probably: The Crooked Cross (Sally Carson)(I’m a sucker for Persephone books!); Once Upon A River (Diane Setterfield); Proof Of My Innocence (Jonathan Coe); The Children’s Book (AS Byatt); Hostages To Fortune (Elizabeth Cambridge); Sculling (Sophie Dumont); Tell Me Everything (Elizabeth Strout); Highway Cello (Kenneth Wilson); Little Boy Lost (Marghanita Laski); and The Fortnight In September (RC Sherriff).
FILMS
I think I’ve watched 18 films this year at the Watershed. These were my favourites: The Ballad Of Wallis Island; Blue Road; A Complete Unknown; Steve; The Phoenician Scheme; The Thing With Feathers; Prime Minister; and I’m Still Here.
THEATRE
My/our theatre-going has been pretty awful this year (partly due to Moira’s hearing struggles; one trip to Bristol Old Vic (Your Starter For Ten) and one to the Tobacco Factory (The Winter’s Tale – featuring Felix).
CONCERTS
Bristol Beacon: Graham Nash (a highlight); Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra; and London Symphony Orchestra. St George’s: O’Hooley+Tidow; and Takács Quartet. Bristol Cathedral: Simon Watterton.
EXHIBITIONS
Thoroughly enjoyed our visits to the impressive Harris Gallery (especially the Ocean Mother exhibition), Preston; Hauser+Wirth Gallery, Somerset; the Barbara Walker, Dana Awartani and Sahara Longe exhibitions at the Arnolfini; Helios (Bristol Cathedral); Brutal Bristol (Sparks, Bristol); Holburne Museum (Diedrick Brackens), Bath; plus various exhibitions at the RWA (we have Art Passes so drop in quite frequently), including: Summer Exhibition; Connecting Threads; Paule Véselay; and Paper.
SPORT EVENTS
Didn’t watch any football or rugby, apart from going to watch the Women’s World Cup Rugby Semi-final game at Ashton Gate between Canada and New Zealand (and saw my first ‘live’ Haka!)… which was excellent. Once again, cricket was my main ‘live’ sport this year: Somerset (at Taunton) once and Gloucestershire (in Bristol) three times; also watched cricket at Bedminster CC on a few occasions… but must do better next year!!
ART
This is my main form of ‘activity’! I continue posting on my daily ‘One Day Like This’ blog (a drawing and a photograph on alternate days) – which has been running for the past 13 years (since September 2012) and has now amassed over 4,850 posts.
I continue to be involved in the wonderful Urban Sketchers Bristol group (I’ve participated for the past 7 plus years and continue to be one of the administrators). We celebrated our 10^th Anniversary this year – so put on ‘birthday’ exhibitions at CassArt and on board MV Balmoral. We meet at least once a month throughout the year and usually meet up in a pub to share our sketchbooks afterwards. I also try to get to the Urban Sketchers Bath gatherings on a regular basis.
I continue to enjoy the fact that the cathedral is our next-door neighbour… and the building and its beautiful garden have continued to be one of my regular sketching locations.
HOLIDAYS
Holidays don’t really feature highly in our lives… but we did have a lovely few days at Salisbury in February; and an excellent break at Ilfracombe in June (in a lovely flat directly overlooking the turquoise sea – and the sun shone!). We also had an enjoyable few days in the Buckshaw area with Alice+Co in November.
HEALTH
We’re both getting older! Medication has continued to keep Moira’s Parkinson’s in check (which is brilliant)… but, by its very nature, its effects vary on a day-to-day basis. Rest and diet continue to be important – as is regular exercise; Moira impressively (to me) does her ‘PD Warrior’ exercises via video link perhaps three times a week. At times, she struggles with sciatica (and knee issues) and visits a physiotherapist on a regular basis.
As for me, like all us oldies, I really don’t like the ageing process… but I’m really doing ok.
SPIRITUAL STUFF
I am no longer a church service attender – which has been the case for more than three years now. Moira continues to attend church pretty regularly. I miss the people, but I don’t actually miss the ‘church stuff’ – although I do continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings - referred to as ‘Blokes Prayer’ (and we are all ‘ageing males’) - consisting of six or so old fogeys – who have become special friends and which has now been going for more than 7 years. I suppose it’s effectively become my ‘church’ (or nearest equivalent). I continue to be disenchanted by the Church of England.
I’m a very early riser and, these days, use much of my early morning time sitting in my ‘thinking seat’ - reading words from the likes of Mary Oliver, Richard Holloway or poets/writers such as my friends Chris Goan and Ian Adams… and sometimes even writing stuff myself – and, of course, looking at the emerging day from our balcony. They’re very special times.
REUNIONS:
2025 was a year of several reunions. During the course of the year, I/we met up with Dave+Sue; Gerry+Merry Carol; Alan+Gareth; Adrian; Ted+Paddy and Steve+Bev; Nick+Christine; Ken+Debby; and with my cousins Jackie, Janet, Lyn+Barry… and, of course, more regular get-togethers with Gail+Ian; Diane+Steve; and Pete, Bob+Steve.
STUFF FOR 2026?:
• Continue to do my daily early morning ‘exercises’ (all 7 minutes of them!).
• Continue to monitor my weight.
• To walk more (and to continue my Leigh Woods/harbourside ambles).
• To jump on the bus to Clevedon, Portishead (and train to Bath) more regularly.
• Watch more live cricket.
• Produce another ‘Blurb’ self-published book (possibly under the heading of ‘Half A Mile From Home’?).
• Continue with my daily ‘One Day Like This’ posts (they will pass 5,000 in 2026!).
• Continue to attend urban sketching ‘events’ – both in Bristol and Bath.
• Continue to sketch at the Watershed, Cathedral and Bristol Old Vic.
OTHER STUFF:
My old early morning walking activities (eg. during Covid lockdowns) rarely happen these days… instead I enjoy watching the mornings begin… looking through our living room windows. I do, however, also enjoy taking the bus up to Leigh Woods on a regular basis… and then walking back home through the woods, tracking the River Avon towpath and then back along the harbourside.
Having said, my brother Alan and I also had a wonderful walk to Bath (along the river from Keynsham) in July… so lovely to spend time chatting and looking at our beautiful surroundings (Alan+I have also continued to get together for lunches in Brum or Bristol on a regular basis… and these have also included Barry, David and Martin at various times.
We gave up the car 8 years ago and, getting on for 3 years ago, I gave up driving altogether – so buses and trains are now our default modes of transport - but, weirdly, I seem to have developed some form of ‘anxiety’ towards travel (I know!). I really don’t like journeys away from my comfort zone.
The world seems to be full of so many challenges these days (even more than in the past?)… wars, the climate change, greed, poverty, lack of funding for the NHS, mental health, education, the growth of right-wing politics and annoying politicians (did someone mention TRUMP?!) etc. The Labour government has been a huge disappointment (playing into the hands of Farage/Reform?); could the Greens/LibDems emerge as key players?
I’m conscious that our ‘world’ has become much smaller over the years… and that we’ve probably become rather boringly unadventurous (who us?!)… but that also feels ok. Enjoying and recognising the simple pleasures of life and our lovely family and friends. Lucky us!
All in all, we continue to count our blessings.
I wish you (and all yours) a very happy, healthy and (hopefully) peaceful 2026.

old office memories…

One of the Christmas cards we’ve received this year was from my good friend Matthew - former partner from my old architecture practice, Brocklehurst Architects. Amongst his ‘news’ was the fact that, after 43 YEARS(!), they’d recently moved offices to Stokenchurch (5 miles up the road) from West Wycombe High Street.
I had joined the Practice in 1977 and was made a partner 18 months later. At that stage, our offices were located in High Wycombe, but I ended up designing a courtyard extension to the Grade II Listed building for a developer client and so we moved to West Wycombe in 1982. By the time I retired from practice in 2005, we’d already been in those offices (rented from the National Trust) for 23 years.
As you might imagine, the offices conjure up all sorts of memories for me (as well as reminding me just how old I’d become!).
There used to be up to 15 of us at any one time working there.
We initiated a ‘proper coffee break’ at 10.30am every day – the entire office staff (AND any visiting clients or consultants!) sitting around the conference table… and all of us (including partners!) taking it in turns to make the coffee (and wash up).
I introduced a 9-day fortnight work regime – probably 30 years ago (way ahead of the game!).
We seemed to spend ‘quite a few’ lunchtimes (and ‘after works’) at the George+Dragon pub in West Wycombe High Street!
The post office was just across the road – very convenient!
The daily 20-minute drive to the office from home in Thame, over the beautiful Chilterns (I used to start work at 7am most mornings).
The practice used to play the occasional game of cricket at West Wycombe House’s rather beautiful cricket ground at the end of the High Street.
Happy times!
Photo: This is my sketch of the West Wycombe office - drawn in 1982, shortly after we’d moved there (it’s the building on the right, just beyond the archway… and you can see the G+D pub sign just a few metres down the High Street!). 

prime minister…

I went along to the Watershed again this afternoon – this time to see the documentary film ‘Prime Minister’ about New Zealand’s former PM, Jacinda Ardern (directed by Lindsay Utz+Michelle Walshe). It follows her for seven years as she is catapulted to the top of NZ politics, becomes a feminist political icon, a mother, resigns suddenly from office and continues to champion the fight against isolationism, fear, and the distortion of truth(!).
To me, she was an utter breath of fresh air during her term of NZ’s leader (and will no doubt continue to be an inspirational figure outside politics) – sincere, personable, smart, decent, respectful, and empathetic.
I think The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw summed things up in his review of the film when he wrote: “Jacinda Ardern emerges from this documentary portrait the way she did when she was in power from 2017 to 2023 … as a human being. More than any politician anywhere in the world in my adult lifetime, she looked like an actual member of the human race who was catapulted to office too fast to have acquired the defensive carapace of the professional politician. She was vulnerable and scrutable and likable in ways utterly alien to everyone else”. Meanwhile, The Telegraph described it thus: “a shameless act of self-promotion” (no surprises there perhaps… but grossly unfair in my opinion).
As you might imagine, yes, this is clearly a ‘sympathetic’ film – no doubt edited to avoid some of day-to-day infighting of internal politics… but it also shows her having to deal with such horrors as the Christchurch mosque shootings with huge compassion AND managing to ban assault rifles within a matter of days of the ordeal (are you listening America?). When Covid came along, Ardern dealt with matters both effectively and skilfully. New Zealand seemed to have been miraculously spared the worst of the outbreak, but then a new wave struck and a threatening new far-right anti-vax mob made their encampment outside parliament. That didn’t mark the end of Ardern’s time as PM but, watching the documentary, I was certainly struck by the thought ‘Why do they bother?’ – when people in her position have to withstand such appalling hate, abuse and threats – and I suspect she felt the same.
Again and again, during the film, I found myself contrasting Ardern’s compassionate, considered actions and words with Trump’s present-day non-stop narcissist rantings and disregard for facts and truthfulness.
I was in two minds about going to see this film… but I’m very glad that I did. It was a reminder about how things still COULD be (if only the world was more compassionate – some hope!?). There are very, very few films I’ve seen where the cinema audience bursts into applause at the end… they certainly did here!! Probably not Telegraph readers(!)…

the thing with feathers…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Dylan Southern’s film, based on Max Porter’s book ’Grief Is The Thing With Feathers’ (which I’d read 9 years ago). The film is a lyrical exploration of love, loss and the strange ways we heal.
Following the death of his wife, a young father’s hold on reality crumbles, and a strange presence begins to stalk him from the shadowy recesses of the apartment he shares with his two young sons (Benedict Cumberbatch is rather wonderful as the father). The two young boys face the unbearable sadness of their mother’s sudden death. Their father, a ‘scruffy romantic’, imagines a depressing future of well-meaning visitors and emptiness. In this moment of despair they are visited by Crow – antagonist, trickster, healer, babysitter (and a little more sinister than I remember from the book?). This bird is somehow drawn to the grieving family and threatens to stay until they no longer need him.
A man-like crow, voiced by David Thewlis, is seemingly brought to life from the father’s work as an illustrator and is about to become a very real part of all of their lives, ultimately guiding them towards the new shape their family must take. The book was part-poetry, part-drama and part-essay on grief and I think the film very successfully captured the same emotions and gut-wrenching challenges.
It's a tough watch at times, but hauntingly powerful and very beautiful too. Excellent. 
Note: Being a lover of Sandy Denny/Fairport Convention, the closing sequence of the father scattering his wife’s ashes on a lonely beach to the strains of ‘Who Knows Where the Times Goes?’ seemed poignantly appropriate: “Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving. But how can they know, it's time for them to go? Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming, I have no thought of time…” .

november 2025 books…

Sculling (Sophie Dumont): I’ve been using this book of poetry by local writer Dumont as part of my early morning reflections. She trained as a canoe coach - her own coach and partner of three years died suddenly in an aquaplaning road accident… which led to five of his organs continuing in other people’s lives. So, this book is about love, death and rivers. I read the whole book out loud to myself each morning. I found it both beautiful and powerful. I loved it.
Once Upon A River (Diane Setterfield): This is our Bloke’s latest book (it’s a long one, 507 pages), published in 2018… On the evening of a winter solstice in the 19th century, “an ancient inn on the Thames, the regulars are entertaining themselves by telling stories when the door bursts open and in steps an injured stranger. In his arms is the drowned corpse of a child…”. The novel is an intricate web of mystery, folk lore, traditions, village pubs, river communities and the river itself. It has an enthralling storyline, with a complex inter-weaving of characters and their individual stories. I found it entirely captivating and read it in five days. Rather wonderful.
Standing in Gaps (Seamus O’Rourke): Somewhat ridiculously, I bought this book (online/second-hand, published in 2024) thinking it was a book of poetry (among other things, O’Rourke is a poet)… but, of course, I was wrong – it’s a memoir of his early days (up to when he was 17) living in rural Ireland during the 1960s-80s. It begins with his birth (I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember mine!) and carrying on through schooldays as an awkward outsider and his passion for Gaelic football before culminating in his late teens. It’s full of humour-filled observations as he talks about family, friends and local misfits. It’s not a book I would have particularly selected, but it proved to be a light-hearted travel companion on my recent train journeys.
Crooked Cross (Sally Carson): Oh, my goodness… I think this is probably my ‘book of the year’! I came across this novel (first published in 1934 and now re-published by those wonderful people at Persephone Books; 360 pages) thanks a recent article in the Guardian. Carson (1902-41), a young woman from Dorset living in Munich in the early 1930s, foresaw a dark and violent future for Europe and gave voice to those fears in her 1934 novel that is now being hailed as “an electrifying masterpiece”. The book is set over only six months – Christmas Eve 1932 to Midsummer’s Eve 1933. I’ve watched LOTS of documentaries on the rise of the Nazis/Nuremburg trials etc, so felt very familiar with the history and the background, but this novel paints a political and psychological portrait of a nation and, crucially, of a family. The Kluger parents are ‘stolidly ordinary’; they have three children – Helmy, then Lexa , then Enrich. Lexa is engaged to be married to Moritz. Moritz is a German and a Catholic… but he is also a Jew. Laura Freeman’s Preface sums things up perfectly: “This is a book that will stay with you. It is a book that asks what you would do if the world went crooked, if people you loved were persecuted, if the freedoms you believe inviolable were destroyed”. An utterly, utterly brilliant book.
Devotions (Mary Oliver): The book is a selection of Oliver’s poems written between 1963+2015. I love Oliver’s beautiful, simple observations of nature and life and I first read the book at the beginning of 2023 and have recently AGAIN (I know!) been using some of her poems – from ‘Thirst’ (2006) and ‘Red Bird’ (2008) – as part of my recent early morning reflections. Once again, it’s a reminder that we live a truly beautiful world which so many often take for granted.

october-november 2025 books…

Brutal Bristol I+II (Tom Benjamin): I bought these illustrated books at the excellent recent Brutal Bristol’ exhibition. As the title suggests, they focus on Bristol’s Brutalist buildings (note: Wikipedia describes Brutalism thus: “a style that emerged in the 1950s, characterized by a focus on raw, unfinished materials like concrete, block-like forms, and simple, geometric shapes” – although these books seem to have adopted a slightly wider definition). Public housing projects, car parks and churches predominate (and the quality varies); people clearly either love or hate them. Clifton Cathedral is the city’s undoubted star (in my eyes, anyway). The second volume includes a Brutal Bristol Walk Map (which is useful). The books provide a fascinating reminder of the city’s ‘brutal’ architectural heritage. My only slight frustration (and perhaps unsurprising, given that the books have been produced using details from a number of contributors) is the inconsistency of presentation, information and references… but, hey!
Where I Was From (Joan Didion): I love Didion’s writing (she died in 2021, aged 87) and have read a number of her books. Here (book first published in 2003), she examines her life, work and heritage/family history. Lots of interesting insights – especially about the growth and prosperity (and the poverty) of California… what the railway; the industry (McDonnell Douglas aviation etc); huge ranches (eg. 88,000 acres)… as well as incidental matters such as California having the highest rate of commitment for insanity than any other state in the nation (and some of the ridiculous reasons given for people being sent to asylums (eg. a woman who had begun “to act silly, lost interest in all things which interest women, could no longer crochet correctly as formerly, takes no interest in anything at present”!). But, overall, not one of my favourite Didion books (sometimes US history just doesn’t appeal!).
The Proof Of My Innocence (Jonathan Coe): I’ve become a great admirer of Coe’s books (I think this is the fifth book of his I’ve consumed)… and I read this one on Moira’s recommendation (she was absolutely right!). It’s a very clever, entertaining, complex, multi-layered, satirical whodunit-cum-political novel set during Liz Truss’s premiership (you remember her?). Somewhat typical of Coe, the novel is something of study of the-way-we-live-now underpinned by, in my case, a love of nostalgia. It starts in the present day (2022-24) and relates to the murder of an investigative journalist at a right-wing conference held in a crumbling stately home – with various links to former students and lecturers of a Cambridge College back in the 1980s. One of these former students has been investigating a radical think tank that’s been scheming to push the British government in an ever more extreme direction (including selling off the NHS). Like I said, it’s complicated (no spoilers!)… There are unexplained disappearances and a murder (of an editor with a dull-but-respectable history magazine and a larger commitment to his truth-telling political blog)… and, in due course, despite the efforts of a somewhat eccentric detective, it’s left to the daughter and adopted daughter of two former Cambridge students to try to solve the mysteries. I thought it was quite, quite brilliant.
The Garden Party (Katherine Mansfield): Picked up this book (first published in 1922) of 15 short stories at the Tyntesfield second-hand bookstore. Mansfield was born in New Zealand in 1888. She came to London to be educated; returned to Wellington, but couldn’t settle down and left again for Europe in 1908 (she died of tuberculosis in 1923). The stories explore themes of social class, identity, and the intricacies of human relationships, set against the backdrop of the changing world of the time. Some of the stories relate to affluent families and their interactions with the working-class individuals around them. Fascinating, subtle, sometimes funny and frequently poignant (without being compelling!).
On Reflection (Richard Holloway): I find Holloway a fascinating and wise writer and decided to use this book (a series of essays ‘Looking For Life’s Meaning’) in connection with my early reflection time. As you are probably aware, Holloway is the former Bishop of Edinburgh; he resigned in 2000 and is now regarded (as described in Wikipedia) as “one of the most outspoken and controversial figures in the church, having taken an agnostic worldview”. I have to say that his views on religion rather mirror those of my view (although I could never express them in his articulate way): “… my agnosticism is not a weak, vacillating neutrality, it is a commitment to staying in a place of passionate and curious uncertainty”. As ever, Holloway’s intellect makes me feel somewhat inadequate at times(!)… but I found his wise words incredibly helpful and thought-provoking.

takács quartet at st george’s…

Thanks to my good friend Ed - whose wife Ann unfortunately (but to my good fortune) had to attend an important meeting - I went along to St George’s last night to hear/see the acclaimed Takács Quartet play a programme of work by Haydn, Bartok, Schubert and Debussy (plus a superb Beethoven encore).
I’m not a classical music connoisseur (understatement!) and wasn’t familiar with any of pieces but, nevertheless, found it absolutely compelling. The exceptional performers Edward Dusinberre (violin), Harumi Rhodes (violin), Richard O’Neill (viola) and András Fejér (cello) produced an evening of mesmerising music – exquisite musicianship, timing and engagement of complex works in front of a near-capacity, enthusiastic, appreciative audience.
Quite a night!
PS: I’m always incredibly impressed that the knowledgeable music devotees know exactly how many sections each piece of music consists of and are able to delay applauding until the appropriate moment (ie. the actual end!). Over the years, I’ve learnt never to take the 'lead', but merely wait for ‘others’ to respond! 

souleymane's story…

I went to the Watershed again yesterday… this time to see Boris Lojkine’s film “Souleymane’s Story” about an asylum-seeker in Paris.
Having fled Guinea, Souleymane (in the words of the Watershed’s blurb) “powers through the streets of after dark Paris as a delivery rider, sleeps in hostels and prepares for his make-or-break appointment which will determine his residence permit status”.
It’s a pressurised, sobering existence for people like Souleymane (played brilliantly by Abou Sangaré), clinging on at the margins of the French capital. He’s facing his impending asylum interview which will decide his immediate future.
Some years ago, I befriended an asylum-seeker in Bristol and know first-hand of the pressures and bureaucratic nightmares facing the likes of Souleymane.
I watched the film in the Watershed’s small Cinema 2 (which has an audience capacity of just over 40); it was a Monday afternoon-showing and, frankly, I anticipated that I might be one of half a dozen people in attendance… but I was entirely wrong. The cinema was full.
This portrait of a modern migrant propels one into the precarious world of an otherwise invisible man and it reflects the hectic daily pressures of survival in a deceitful and unfair world in something of a frenzied blur… BUT then the scene changes to his asylum interview and the stark, painful questioning process and his back-story… and Souleymane leaving the building, knowing that the powers-that-be would be emailing him 3 days’ time informing him of his fate.
The absolute silence in the cinema at the end (and the fact that no one moved from their seat for a prolonged time) said it all.
It’s a tense, achingly human, empathetic and hugely impressive film. 

september-october 2025 books…

Hot Milk (Deborah Levy): First published in 2016, it tells of Sofia, a 25-year-old anthropologist-cum-barista, who has accompanied her mother Rose to southern Spain to attend a clinic in search of a diagnosis of and treatment for Rose’s mysterious and erratic paralysis. They have re-mortgaged their small London house to fund the trip. The mother’s wheelchair existence (although she frequently walks without it) has meant that Sofia’s life is bound by chains of control and dependency. They rent a beach house while the mother undergoes all sorts of tests administered by a doctor who could well turn out to be a ‘quack’. Despite all the relaxing sunshine, it’s quite a complex book - with Sofia becoming obsessed with a German seamstress; involved with a student manning the beach ‘injury hut’; and meeting up with her rich father in Athens (who she hadn’t seen for some 14 years and who had effectively abandoned her). It’s a novel about families, relationships, identity, coming-of age… and anger. It felt like the kind of book one reads on holiday. I read it quickly and quite enjoyed it.
Wilderness Taunts (Ian Adams): I’ve read this excellent book, by my great friend Ian, several times since it was first published (2016) and have again been using it as a basis for my recent early morning reflections (despite the fact that it’s geared towards Lent). It’s a book of meditations (and beautiful photographic images) exploring some of the demanding challenges that we all face to remain positive in this difficult world. Once again, I found it a very helpful, testing and yet, ultimately, hopeful book. 
Poems (Anna Akhmatova): Further poems from Akhmatova’s various books of poems I started last month (beautifully translated by DM Thomas). I continued to read it quite slowly (and out loud to myself) on a daily, early morning basis… and have now completed the final four books of the collection (‘Reed’, ‘The Seventh Book’, ‘Requiem’ and ‘Poem Without A Hero’). I’ve loved her writing and will no doubt come back to it on a regular basis.
So Shall You Reap (Donna Leon): Yet another Leon Commissario Brunetti Mystery (I know!). It seems somewhat ridiculous that crime mysteries have frequently become my ‘comfort read’, but hey! This one, published in 2023, relates to the discovery of the body of a Sri Lankan immigrant in one of Venice’s canals – which sets Brunetti to reflect back on his student days (of lost ideals and the errors of youth) and on Italian politics and history. Leon clearly has established a very successful writing formula: a mix of Venice’s beauty (with endless descriptions of Brunetti’s various routes through the city – linked, of course, to a street map at the beginning of the book and one’s own recollections of the city)(sometimes I think she overdoes this… and she just loves showing off her knowledge of Venice!); Brunetti’s family, his colleagues and his genial character (unless you’re a criminal); and the fact that most people enjoy a good crime novel. A clever, satisfying story and one that I very much enjoyed.
The Land In Winter (Andrew Miller): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (theme: Booker Shortlist). This is a novel, set in the BigFreeze of 1962/63, about two marriages – two young couples who live in neighbouring houses in the West Country. Eric (Birmingham-born GP from working-class background) and Irene (all at sea compared with her old life in literary London); Bill (Oxford-educated “rich man’s son playing at farming” – but struggling) and Rita (former nightclub dancer, now farm wife). Both women are pregnant and form an unlikely friendship following an awkward Christmas party at Eric+Irene’s (just before the blizzards take over). I suppose it’s book about class and gender in the aftermath of WW2 (rationing is over, but life is still pretty tough)(the war and the Holocaust have taken their toll for both Bill and Rita’s fathers, in particular). There were aspects of the BigFreeze – which I remember as a 13-year-old! – that reflected some aspects of our lives during the Covid lockdown (isolation; travel difficulties; keeping in touch; shopping restrictions etc). It’s the story of the two women that provided the main fascination/interest for me. Both women are pregnant and both struggling to adjust to their unfamiliar rural surroundings with what their future lives will bring. Their lives are somewhat dictated by the desires and whims of their respective husbands (the days of Women’s Lib are still a little way off!). It’s a novel about dreams, relationships, families, adjustment, mistakes and uncertainty. All four individuals are each battling problems and then, on top of this, a tough winter is thrown at them. I found it a compelling read (brilliantly woven) and despite their various flaws, you end up hoping that the characters will find a way to get through it all. I don’t want to give too much away… but I can certainly see why the book made the Booker Shortlist.

graham nash at bristol beacon…

Nostalgia rules!
I went along to the Bristol Beacon last night to see/hear Graham Nash (plus Peter Asher – of ‘Peter+Gordon’ fame if you’re as old as me!). As you will probably know, Nash was an integral part of the 1960’s group (we didn’t call them ‘bands’ in those days!) The Hollies. Although I was never a massive Hollies’ fan, I did enjoy their music.
As far as I’m concerned, Nash truly came into his own when he joined musicians David Crosby (ex-Byrds) and Stephen Stills (ex-Buffalo Springfield) to form the ‘folk rock supergroup’(!) Crosby Stills+Nash in 1968 (later to become Crosby, Stills, Nash+Young when joined by Neil Young in 1970, I think).
As a bonus(?) for me, who regards Joni Mitchell as my all-time ultimate musical hero, Nash+Mitchell had a “famous and influential relationship in the Laurel Canyon music scene from 1968 to 1970. While they were deeply in love and inseparable, the intense and tumultuous relationship ultimately ended with Mitchell leaving Nash” (according to Wikipedia). Their time together inspired significant music, including the wonderful Mitchell's Blue album (featuring ‘My Old Man’ and ‘River’) and Nash's evocative ‘Our House’. 
So, for me, last night was all about musical memories from a very special time in my own life after leaving home/starting university (I could remember the words of most of the songs, of course!).
It proved to be a rather wonderful evening, Nash (accompanied by three excellent, high-quality musicians) ran through his impressive repertoire of songs – I’d forgotten that he’d actually written so many of my favourite songs.
Yes, there was part of me (approaching 77) going to see/hear a musician (approaching 84!) in his ‘twilight years’(??) playing for 90 minutes plus that found last night’s concert both sad and wonderfully ridiculous… an evening of old songs and ‘rosy-coloured’ recollections. I suspect, that over the next few days, I’ll be adding even more ‘old songs’ to my various playlists of very ageing tunes!
Nash was in very good form (and voice). A memorable evening.
I really enjoyed the concert and found it quite cathartic, uplifting and even quite emotional at times.
Living in the past… while I can still remember it.
Photos: from my seat at the concert.
Footnote: At the start of the evening, Peter Asher talked and played songs (accompanied by two other musicians) from his own musical career – including fascinating insights into his time working with James Taylor and Carole King. Gordon Waller died in 2009. Unlike Nash, Asher’s ageing voice isn’t what it was, but hey!

o’hooley+tidow at st george’s…

After 15 years of performing together, eight studio albums, four BBC Folk Award nominations and hundreds of venues and festivals across the UK and Europe, O’Hooley+Tidow have “decided to say farewell for now in order to explore other adventures that are beckoning” (among these: Heidi returning to university).
I went along to St George’s last night to see/hear Belinda O’Hooley and Heidi Tidow perform their eclectic mix of thought-provoking songs and intricate harmonies (I think it was the fifth time I’d seen them perform over the past twelve years or so). Once again, I came away feeling very impressed… but, given that this was effectively their ‘Farewell Tour’, also sad that they won’t be returning - at least for the time being.
They’ve established themselves as gifted singer-songwriters and they frequently write about difficult, painful subjects such as racism, animal cruelty, poverty, vulnerability and child abuse with remarkable, understated clarity. They both sing beautifully (gifted pianist Belinda clearly always enjoys returning to St George’s Steinway piano!) and come across as rather lovely people - compassionate, sincere and down-to-earth (and very funny!).
Another really lovely evening… in one of my favourite concert venues.
Photo from my seat at last night’s concert.

your starter for ten…

Moira and I went along to the Bristol Old Vic last night for the first time in ages (with Moira’s hearing deficiency – and mine, to a lesser extent - the last few occasions we’ve been to the Old Vic have proved somewhat frustrating). Last night’s show, based on the long-running ‘University Challenge’ television programme (and set in 1986), was a musical… and also benefitted from having sub-titles (I know!)… AND, as a bonus, had the wonderful Mel Giedroyc playing one of the characters (and she’s excellent).
The show, a musical adaptation of David Nicholls' novel, follows one of the students, Brian Jackson (Adam Bregman), as he navigates university life in Bristol and the outside possibility of him participating in the UC game show (something his late Dad – a huge fan of the programme – would certainly have encouraged). Woven into all this is his early infatuation with ‘posh-girl’ Alice (Emily Lane) and his association with sarcastic, up-front Glaswegian protester Rebecca (Eubha Akilade).
It’s hugely-impressive show - full of energy, fast-moving, finely-timed choreography and beautiful, powerful singing. Lots of humour; lots of amusing references to all those zealous ‘societies’ one is inevitably confronted with in Freshers’ Week… and pathos too. All the cast were excellent – but with absolutely stand-out performances from Bregman and Akilade.
It all provided wonderful evening’s entertainment, which lifted the spirits in these depressing times.

christchurch meadow, oxford…

I ‘discovered’ Christchurch Meadow very soon after I moved to Oxford in September 1967 (which, somewhat frighteningly, 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.