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. 

handsworth songs…

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see ‘Handsworth Songs’ - part of their ‘Cinema Rediscovered’ series. Described, according to the Watershed’s blurb, as a “groundbreaking experimental film essay on race and disorder in Britain”, by John Akomfrah from the Black Audio Film Collective in Birmingham and London during the riots of 1985. I grew up in Handsworth and effectively left home when I started at Oxford School of Architecture in 1967… and so I didn’t experience the inner-city riots of 1985 (which included Handsworth) first hand, but I was certainly aware of the deep-rooted colour prejudice views that many long-standing residents (including many members of my own family) held. Such views appalled me then and still appal me today.
Today, I was part of quite a large, ‘learned’ audience (film students and academics?) at the Watershed and am pretty confident that I was the only person there who’d grown up in Handsworth(!). Needless to say, no one asked for my ‘take’ on the subject!
I don’t intend to provide any ground-breaking insight into the documentary(!), but it was fascinating to view the inner-city riots 40 years on from the event. The film is a rich and layered ‘essay’ which explores the complex factors of race, class and identity in the context of Britain’s colonial history, alongside media bias.
Among the things that particularly struck me were: a) the comments of one of the members of the Sikh community – who essentially said “don’t think that this is something that has just bubbled up recently (ie. 1985) – it’s been building over a number of years” (I would agree), and b) there was an overriding sense that the ‘heavy-handed’ policing played a huge part in what led to the riots (over several years and, in particular, following what was the recent appointment of a new Chief Constable of West Midlands Police). Thank goodness no one’s suggesting an Inquiry today(!)… there’s so much water under the bridge (unlike, the recently-announced Orgreave Inquiry after the events in 1984 - when 6000 police officers, confronted a protest of striking miners who had responded to a call by the NUM for a mass picket of the pit. Absolutely ridiculous in my view, given the time that has elapsed).
A fascinating, illuminating and somewhat depressing documentary – which only underlines how little has changed.
Note: just in case you were thinking that the woman in the photograph was holding a knife - no, she wasn’t – it’s a factory lever handle!

june-july 2025 books…

Hostages To Fortune (Elizabeth Cambridge): I simply loved this book (another from Persephone, published in 2003, but first published by Jonathan Cape in 1933)… so BIG thanks to Moira for choosing it when we shopped in Bath last month! This autobiographical novel follows the life of a young woman, Catherine, from 1915 until the early 1930s. Her husband, invalided out of the army in 1917, buys a doctor's practice in an Oxfordshire village where they bring up their three children and become involved in village life. I found the novel both unusual and compelling… there is no plot as such, but I nevertheless found myself absorbed in family’s life – which one reviewer described thus: “a surprisingly hard life, full of difficulties and disillusions, but a satisfying one nevertheless”. It’s a book about the realities of parenthood and its attendant joys and frustrations – which, even as a grandfather (observing my own children and their children), I can recognise. Although the book describes life from a century or more ago, it didn’t feel all that different from the lives we live today. Having said that, it deals with the time during and immediately following WW1 and, at the end of the book (set in the early 1930s), it felt strange/sad reading about lives that, unknown to the author, were soon to be affected by a second World War.
A Place Called Winter (Patrick Gale): This is our next Blokes’ bookgroup book (which I first read 10 years ago). I think my views on the book from 10 years ago still stand: ‘This novel, set in the early years of the 20th century, tells the story of a gay Englishman who was ostracised by his family after an illicit affair and forced to make a new life for himself on the harsh Canadian prairies. It’s actually loosely based on the life of Gale’s own great-grandfather and compiled after he’d read a huge hoard of letters+papers inherited from his maternal grandmother. In the notes that accompanied my copy of his book, Gale readily accepts that, while he respected the “known facts, keeping real names, and houses and dates”, his story “inevitably… moved further and further away from reality”. I found the mix of fact and storytelling a little difficult to take at times. Nevertheless, it’s a tender, compelling and beautifully-written book and one that I enjoyed reading’.
Sentenced To Life (Clive James): I’ve been re-reading this book (published in 2015) for my daily, early morning reflections. It’s an honest, unflinching collection of poems looking back on his extraordinarily rich life as he approached his death (he died in 2019). I again found his words/reflections/regrets/joys/guilt/memories really quite poignant and insightful – albeit sometimes overly self-pitying perhaps.
Goodnight Tokyo (Atsuhiro Yoshida): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup choice (theme: books in translation)(translated by Haydn Trowell). Taxi driver Matsui is one of the book’s key characters (although there’s a whole host of characters!). Every night between 1am and 4.30am he drives around Tokyo’s streets collecting his passengers and their stories. The book’s story is told over a number of nights: confessions of intimacy, loneliness and the surreal… and punctuated by Matsui’s dawn arrival at his favourite canteen for a plate of their famous ham and eggs. Initially, I felt somewhat confused by the relationships of the several characters and so, after perhaps 30 pages, ended up scribbling out something of a ‘flow chart’ to remind myself who was who and how their lives were connected (which, I have to say, helped enormously)! In the novel’s ‘Afterword’, the author describes the book as “the intersection of… ten fantastic tales” and that these “only exist in his mind, at least for time being” (“intimately and compellingly connected” – as described on the book’s cover). I’ve read quite a few novels by Japanese authors over the years and many of them seem have a similar quirkiness or style to them. I have to admit that it took me a little time to ‘get into’ the novel and appreciate fully the fact that the characters’ interwoven stories… but once I did so, I really enjoyed it.
Little Boy Lost (Marghanita Laski): This novel (originally published in 1949 (but this Persephone edition 2001) tells the journey of an English poet/writer, Hilary, who returns after the war (WW2) to a blasted and impoverished France in order to trace a child lost 5 years before. Hilary’s wife had died at the end of the war, but had vowed to get their son to a place of safety. A French friend had contacted Hilary believing that he may have tracked down the lost little boy to an orphanage… and Hilary sets out to find answers. Is the child really his? And does he want him? It’s a hugely compelling story about love, generosity, goodness and uncertainty. I found Laski’s writing incredibly impressive – always assured and understated – and with the tension and suspense maintained until the very last line. Quite brilliant.

the ballad of wallis island…

I went along to the Watershed again yesterday afternoon (note: I’m now one of their ‘Club Shed’ members!) to see director James Griffiths’ ‘The Ballad of Wallis Island’… about a lottery-winning eccentric widower, Charles (Tim Key), living on the island off the coast of Wales (his wife Marie had died 5 years ago). He also happens to be a ‘superfan’ of a renown folk pairing McGwyer Mortimer (Herb and Nell - played by Tom Basden and Carey Mulligan) from around 2009 (they’d played Glastonbury; graced some NME covers etc)… and has all their records, memorabilia, scrapbooks etc.
Being a lottery-winner (twice, in fact), he invited them to play a gig on the island (for £500,000 fee, in cash, for each of them)… McGwyer and Mortimer had been lovers back in the day, but had broken up somewhat bitterly (as far as McGwyer was concerned). Herb had pursued a somewhat unsuccessful solo career (he had no idea that Nell had also been invited along) and Nell had married and was selling chutney for a living.
McGwyer was clearly under the impression that he was one of a group of musicians/bands playing at the gig… and was shocked to discover that a) there was no auditorium, just a beach, b) that Nell had also been invited along to perform and c) the only two scheduled performers were him and Nell.
The film is a romantically-tinged comedy of regrets, memories, music and beautiful scenery… it’s all rather silly, and yet, it’s all rather lovely too.
I think we’d all love to invite our favourite musician(s) to play a concert for us in a beautiful island location (provided that the sun shone etc!).
When there’s so much disaster and rubbish happening in the world, it was good to be conveyed to better place… of laughter, music, beauty and silliness.
I really enjoyed it.
PS: So who would you invite to your island gig? Joni Mitchell in her prime? Leonard Cohen? Nick Drake? Simon+Garfunkel? Perhaps, of current musicians (for me): Karine Polwart? Ricky Ross? Pete Judge?
PPS: In the film, there’s a sequence when Charles, Herb and Nell light lanterns and launch them from the beach into the evening sky… which reminded me of our own family version of this from 2009 in St Ives (although we now acknowledge the problems that they can injure or kill wildlife and livestock through ingestion or entanglement, cause fires, contribute to litter etc!!). It was a joint 60^th birthday celebration for Moira and me (I was already 60, she would be 60 in a few months’ time) and we were staying at the wonderful Upper Saltings on Porthmeor Beach. We’d had evening drinks on the beach (on a stunningly beautiful evening) and Ru, Hannah and Alice etc gave us two paper sky lanterns… which we ‘launched’ and watched as they slowly disappeared out to sea. Very special memories. 

the horace batchelor memorial pilgrimage…

My lovely brother, Alan, and I decided to walk from Keynsham to Bath for no particular reason other than a) we thought it would make a very nice river walk along the Avon and b) we could chat and put the world to right along the way(!).
And very lovely it proved to be.
Alan (who knows these things) reckons we walked just over 9 miles in total (plus, for me, my one mile walk to Temple Meads station from home!)… or more than 25,000 steps(!?). Thankfully, after the heatwave of the previous few days, the weather was kind to us (19-21degC) – although it absolutely poured down with rain while we were consuming two pints of beer each during our lunchtime stop at The Bird pub in Saltford! We’d spent the morning walking alongside the winding River Avon and then, after lunch, joined the tree-lined ‘Bristol and Bath Railway Path’ (which provided welcome shade) before re-joining the Avon for the final 3 or so miles into Bath. A very enjoyable and beautiful walk… and arriving at our Travelodge hotel (next to the station) at about 4pm.
We wandering into Bath for a couple more celebratory beers (in the garden of ‘The Crystal Palace’ pub – where, once again, we were incredibly lucky to be able to shelter under their enormous garden umbrellas from another absolute downpour!! We went on to have supper at ‘Browns’ – decent food and excellent, friendly service – before slowly making our way back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep.
A brilliant, happy day which will last long in both our memories.
Photo: A collection of images along the way.
PS: For those not old enough to understand, the ‘Horace Batchelor’ reference relates to the Radio Luxemburg advert from the early 1960s that included the famous words: “…Keynsham, that's spelt K E Y N S H A M”! 

june 2025 books…

There Are Rivers In The Sky (Elif Shafak): This is our latest Storysmith book choice (theme: water). Our bookgroup meets on the first Wednesday of each month and so, at 480 pages long, it represented a challenge to read it in such limited time (but, of course, some of us don’t have jobs to go to!). The novel connects a lost poem, two rivers (Thames and Tigris) and three people linked across space and time - whose lives intertwine from Victorian London to modern-day Turkey. It’s an ambitious, absorbing, fable of a book which, surprisingly, I read it quite quickly. Typical of Shafak, the tale is clearly the result of much detailed research, but I frequently found her rather overly-descriptive style somewhat pretentious or even show-offy. I often struggled with its magical-realist/fable narrative (which reminded me of her book “The Island of Missing Trees”, which I’d read last year). I also found the links between the three characters’ stories a little too contrived. I liked the fact that each of the chapters was devoted to one of the three characters but, overall, found the characters and plot (and often the dialogue) somewhat unconvincing. Enjoyable, but did I love it? Well, not quite…
Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes (Billy Collins): Collins is one of my favourite poets – funny, profound and observing incidental details of life. I’ve been using these poems (first published in 1988) as part of early morning routine and have found much pleasure in re-reading them (I first came across them more than 10 years ago).
William – An Englishman (Cicely Hamilton): First published in 1919. It’s a novel about a couple honeymooning in the remote hills of the Belgium Ardennes when the First World War is declared. William and Griselda, both passionate activists in the Suffragette movement (‘cocksure, contemptuous, intolerant, self-sacrificing after the manner of their kind’) are completely unaware that this major conflict had erupted, literally on their doorstep. The both held a naïve belief that the likelihood of any future world war breaking out on mainland Europe was remote in the extreme. Clearly, they were in for a severe shock! The situation made me reflect on what’s happening in our world today (more than 110 years on). How many UK citizens would realistically believe that we might soon find ourselves fighting another major conflict that would utterly disrupt (or worse!) our lives here in Western Europe? Given Trump’s unpredictable tendencies, you wouldn’t rule ANYTHING out. I’ll resist saying much more as far as the story is concerned (*no spoilers!*)… except that I found it a very impressive, powerful and harrowing novel (which owes much to the author’s experiences volunteering in northern France… in the words of the book’s preface: “organising concerts to entertain the troops, the sound of gunfire a nightly accompaniment to her scribbling”).
Inside The Wave (Helen Dunmore): I keep coming back to this book and, once again (like the Billy Collins’ book), I’ve been reading it (out loud to myself) as part of my early morning routine. Helen Dunmore died in 2017, aged 65 and this book of poems is her final collection. They address the borderline between the living and the dead… and relate to her interest in landscape and the sea but, crucially, about her personal experience of dying (she knew she was dying of cancer). Once again, I found the book both eloquent and moving. As I noted in a previous blog post, Dunmore and I shared two connections: living in Bristol and loving St Ives.
One Day I Shall Astonish The World (Nina Stibbe): I like Stibbe’s writing style and humour, but really didn’t get on with the last book of hers I read (‘Reasons To Be Cheerful’). So I approached this one with a little apprehension. It’s about two women, Susan+Norma, who’ve been ‘best friends’ ever since they worked in a haberdashery shop in 1990s Leicestershire. The story deals with their loves, work and friendship over the next 30 years. I found the main character, Susan Faye Warren, opinionated and annoying at times (as well as frequently funny). Actually, it was fine. Amusing and silly – which was what I need at the present time, given all that’s currently go on in the world!

hauser+wirth, somerset…

Thanks to our lovely friends, Dave+Sarah, we visited the wonderful Hauser+Wirth Gallery and Gardens at Bruton, Somerset on Sunday.
It first opened in 2014. The former derelict farmhouse and outbuildings have been refurbished and converted into a variety of gallery spaces, restaurants and retail space. The whole art centre complex has become a venue for art exhibitions, events and learning activities, connecting with the local community and landscape.
Internationally-renowned garden designer Piet Oudolf created the landscaping scheme for the entire site, including Oudolf Field - a large perennial meadow situated behind the gallery buildings.
At present, the gallery spaces have largely been given over to the work of artists Niki de Saint Phalle and Jean Tinguely (exhibition runs until 1 Feb 2026).
Although I did take a few (not many!) photographs of the exhibits, I found myself concentrating much more on the gallery and ancillary spaces… but I now regret not having taken photographs of the spaces themselves.
Check out their excellent website for a much better ‘feel’ of the complex.
Photo: a few images.

the salt path...

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday (for me, the third visit in 8 days!) to see Marianne Elliott’s film of Raynor Winn’s bestselling memoir ‘The Salt Path’. I’d read the book in 2019.
You’re probably already aware of the story… in 2013, in the space of a week, Raynor Winn (played by Gillian Anderson in the film) and her husband Moth (Jason Isaacs) - aged 50 and 53 respectively and married for 32 years - lost their farmhouse home and their livelihood… and Moth was diagnosed with a rare and incurable degenerative brain disease. They were utterly broke and broken… and homeless. As they hid under the stairs from bailiffs, Winn spotted an old book she’d read 30 years before, about a man who walked the South West Coastal Path with his dog… and, then and there, she resolved that THAT was what they were going to do! The resulting book is their story of their experiences of walking the 630 miles (which they split over two summers) from Minehead to Poole… the film covers perhaps just a quarter of the journey.
Before seeing the film, I had significant reservations about actors ‘playing the roles’ of the couple – which had been so effectively portrayed in the book. Anderson and Isaacs were actually very good, but I think my misgivings were generally justified. Inevitably, there were events missing from the film (and also some that I felt were overplayed) and I think the film also failed to underline that, despite the consultant’s recommendation for Moth to rest, the exercise/activity had a beneficial effect.
All that said, I did actually enjoy the film… it tells a truly inspirational, humbling story about a husband+wife’s determination to drag themselves from the depths of despair to live ‘wild and free’ on a pittance and, in doing so, came to discover a new liberating part of themselves… and, of course, the film was able to capitalise on something that the book couldn’t fully encompass – the beauty and character of the South West Coastal Path!

may-june 2025 books…

After The Apocalypse (Chris Goan): I keep coming back to this wonderful book of poetry (by my good friend Chris - and illustrated by another great mate, Si Smith). It’s a book written in the context of the Coronavirus pandemic (written in 3 sections: Before, During and After). I’ve been using the ‘Before’ section (written in a pre-pandemic world when, for Chris – and me! - as dissatisfaction with what was ‘normal’ started to grow in him) as part of my recent early morning reflections. I find that he has a brilliant ability to express stuff in a way that speaks to and for me.
The Visitor (Maeve Brennan): This novella (published in 2000, but actually written in the 1940s when Brennan was in her late 20s) tells the story of 22-year-old Anastasia King. Following the death of her mother, she leaves Paris to return to Dublin. In the time that she had been away, her estranged father has died. On arriving to her family home, Anastasia is met by her paternal grandmother – who has determined never to forgive Anastasia for fleeing with her mother. While Anastasia thinks she has come home to stay, her vengeful grandmother deems she is an unwelcome visitor. It’s a haunting, sad and beautifully-written story. I found it both oppressive and hugely impressive.
Wilfred And Eileen (Jonathan Smith): This novel (first published in 1976, but republished by Persephone Books in 2014) is set in 1913+14 and loosely based on a true story. It’s love story and a WW1 story. Wilfred was 22 in 1912 when, at a May Ball at Trinity College, Cambridge, he met Eileen. The couple fell in love but because of parental opposition on both sides they married in secret. The approach of WW1 is evoked with great simplicity; Eileen stays living at home in Kensington while Wilfred continues his medical studies at the London Hospital. When Wilfred joins up and is shot in the head it is only through the efforts of his wife and colleagues that he survives. Evocative and harrowing, but also hopeful.  
Money To Burn (Asta Olivia Nordenhof): This is a complex, angry, intimate, Danish novel about capitalism and relationships (a strange combination!). Published in 2025, it’s the first of a 7-part series of books (they already have titles, but I don’t think they’ve yet been written). Much of the book is about the struggling lives of Maggie and Kurt – holding on to their lives in Nyborg after their only daughter has left home – set alongside (for reasons that are so far unclear) references to a national tragedy in Denmark and Norway, decades ago, when a passenger ferry called the Scandinavian Star caught fire, killing 159 people. Years later, more information comes to light suggesting that it was an insurance scam and not an accident. It’s an impressive book (even if I did find it confusing at times!) that dodges about in terms of narrative. To me, it rather felt as if Nordenhof had written several different stories; cut+pasted extracts from each; and then set them out in random order (including people dying, then reappearing) just to confuse me! Strangely impressive nevertheless.
Girl With Green Eyes (Edna O’Brien): First published in 1962 (our copy is dated 1968 in Moira’s handwriting, on her 18^th birthday), it’s the second book in ‘The Country Girls’ trilogy. It’s written through the eyes+ears of innocent Cait/Kate Brady, who leaves her family farm and heads for Dublin, where she lives with her former convent friend Baba Brennan. She soon meets older man Eugene, who is a writer and intellectual. Kate and Eugene fall in love but, when Cait's father finds out about their romance, he is determined to break it up… (I’ll leave it there: *no spoilers!*). It’s comic and poignant and, of course, beautifully-written.

E.1027 – eileen gray and the house by the sea…

My second trip to the Watershed in successive days! This time to see Beatrice Minger+Christoph Schaub’s film ‘E.1027 – Eileen Gray and the House by the Sea’, with Natalie Radmall-Quirke playing Gray.
As a retired architect, I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit my lack of knowledge of much of Eileen Gray’s career. I had a very patchy awareness of her work and life… and a very vague recall of the link of E.1027 with Le Corbusier. Gray (1878-1976) was an Irish interior designer, furniture designer and (self-taught) architect who became a pioneer of the Modern Movement in architecture.
In the late 1920s, Gray designed and built a modernist villa on the Côte d’Azur for herself and her lover, the Romanian architectural journalist Jean Badovici: she called it E.1027 (a cryptic combination of her initials and those of Badovici)… “In the 1920s, men built the world to meet their own needs. I wanted to create a space for the woman… and then I could conceive of a different world”. But she and Badovici quarrelled and she impulsively moved out, leaving him in sole possession of the property – which he, subsequently, allowed the architectural world to assume it was his own work (in fact, he had very little to do with either the design or its construction). Badovici’s friend Le Corbusier, upon discovering it, was intrigued and obsessed by the house. He later covers its walls with murals (much to Gray’s fury when she discovered what he’d done – she’d always expressed a wish that it should be free of any decoration); Gray regarded this as an act of vandalism.
I went to see the film with fairly limited expectations… but I was completely wrong. I really enjoyed it.
It’s a very beautiful building (impressively renovated back to its original state – but the Le Corbusier frescoes are still there!) and I found myself captivated by the story. However, it also left me feeling frustrated by some aspects of it: it’s a drama-documentary that fails to include the emotion and creativity involved in producing a work of art… or, indeed, the work relating to the creation of such a building in such a remote location, over three years. Also lacking, in my view, was there a sufficient sense of betrayal (ie. a lack of recognition of the work of female designers and artists of that time)(of course, these frustrations still exist today!).
The film included clips of the house in an extremely poor state of repair (in the 1950s/60s?) – and effectively abandoned (it was occupied by squatters for a time) but, somewhat incredibly, the architectural press ‘rediscovered’ the building in 1968 and Gray’s name subsequently became recognised… and the house ultimately restored to its former glory (it’s now become a tourist attraction!). At the end of the film, there’s a poignant interview with Gray (in 1973, when she was in her late 90s) reflecting back on how the house came about.
All in all, a really lovely, informative and inspiring film. You’d enjoy it! 

the phoenician scheme…

Another trip to the Watershed today – this time to see Wes Anderson’s ‘The Phoenician Scheme’. I’m a great lover of Anderson films… I love the chorography (if that’s the right word?), symmetry, limited colour palettes, eccentricity, and the somewhat theatrical (and at times ridiculous) approach to storytelling.
In this film, wealthy businessman, Zsa-zsa Korda (played by Benicio del Toro) appoints his only daughter, a nun (Mia Threapleton), as sole heir to his estate. As Korda embarks on a new enterprise, they soon become the target of scheming tycoons, foreign terrorists, and determined assassins. As usual, the film features a host of ‘other stars’ in various cameo roles - including Tom Hanks, Willem Dafoe, Scarlett Johansson and Benedict Cumberbatch.
Yes, I’d be first to admit that Anderson’s films are (or have become) somewhat predictable in both their style and, to a certain extent, their type of storylines… there’s an element of him just repeating the same, old, successful formula. But, hey, I still found his sets and backdrops (and all the wonderful details) quite brilliant… and they make me feel very happy! So, in this depressing uncertain world, it’s good to find that some things still have the power to please!
It might not be the best Anderson film I’ve ever seen, but I really enjoyed it nevertheless.

celebration day: 26 may...

Today, May Bank Holiday, is apparently ‘Celebration Day’ – a recently-created, dedicated opportunity to honour and celebrate the lasting impact of those who have inspired and shaped us—whether through personal connections, history, or culture—and whose influence continues long after they’ve died.
An opportunity to share stories.
For me, although perhaps there have been times when I didn’t quite acknowledge his influence on my life, that person is probably my father: Ronald Frederick Broadway (1921-1992).
I scribbled this as my ‘Celebration Day’ contribution:
 
I’ve been thinking about my father a lot recently.
I wish I’d known him better.
That we’d had more opportunities
To chat, just the two of us…
Like those days in the 70s in Oxford
In a pub, on a Sunday lunchtime, when he was down to visit.
Yes, we definitely had our different opinions(!),
But they were special times…
And I realise that now.
He died more than 30 years ago.
So much has changed since then.
He’d be delighted and appalled in equal measure.
 
I sometimes imagine us meeting in that pub again
An opportunity for me to tell him
What’s happened since he departed…
That Moira+I still love each other after more than 50 years together
About the amazing women his granddaughters have become,
Since he last saw them in their emerging teens.
Perhaps a chance for them to tell their own stories?
And he’d be so proud to learn about his great-grandchildren
As they make their respective ways into the adult world.
I can see him shaking his head and smiling.
But there’s so much more to tell…
Can I buy you another pint Dad?
 
Photo: My Dad… with his granddaughters Alice, Han+Ru in our back garden in Thame (c.1987/8?) - before Ru’s garden re-design and before I’d re-painted the shed door to look like a cricket scoreboard!
PS: Back in 2011, I wrote a brief blogpost about remembering my father. It’s strange re-reading it today.

april-may 2025 books...

Orange Dust: Journeys After The Buddha (Kenneth Wilson): I bought this book (published in 2011) after reading ‘High Cello’ (about his pilgrimage to Rome, on a bike, with a cello!) and after he hosted a ‘Lenten Quiet Day’ at Bristol Cathedral in March. I think he’s 10 years younger than me and, among other things, he’s been a CofE vicar, property developer, poet and also founded ‘Soul of India Tours’ in 1992 (guiding people on spiritual journeys in that country). This book is another pilgrimage – this time exploring some of the Buddha's teachings and visiting sacred sites. Wilson is an unassuming, but fascinating, individual and an excellent, entertaining writer. I’m not sure if he’s a Christian or a Buddhist or indeed of any faith these days (and perhaps that doesn’t matter at all), but he comes across as a decent, spiritual man – and a pilgrim in the true meaning of the word. It took me a little time to get into the ‘rhythm’ of this book but, when I did, I found it impressive and engaging.
Virgina Woolf: A Critical Memoir (Winifred Holtby): For a number of years now, I’ve been fascinated by the work of and the individuals linked to the Bloomsbury Group (and have read several books about them/it). This memoir, however, pays only scant reference to the group and focusses on Virginia Woolf’s writing. The book was first published in 1932 (my copy was published in 1978) – 9 years before Woolf’s suicide in 1941, aged 59. This memoir’s author is the distinguished novelist+writer Winifred Holtby (who herself died at the early age of just 37 in 1935, after suffering from Bright’s Disease). It’s a brilliantly detailed assessment of Woolf’s writing career by someone who clearly was entirely familiar with all her books and her critical reviews. Somewhat predictably, I didn’t have such extensive knowledge of Woolf’s writing (I’ve only read 3 of her books: ‘The Waves’, ‘Mrs Dalloway’ and ‘To The Lighthouse’), but found Holtby’s memoir absorbing. I was also fascinated, given the nature of her death, by Woolf’s frequent references and books relating to the sea/water and to death (she’d struggled with mental illness throughout her adult life and drowned in Sussex’s River Ouse). As the book’s cover rightly acknowledges: “the work of one intelligent novelist commenting upon another”.
Zee+Co (Edna O’Brien): Continuing to work through my collection of Edna O’Brien books - actually, although I’ve recently bought three ‘new’ secondhand novels of hers, this (first published in 1971) is one we’ve had on our shelves for some years. It features three rather detestable characters: Zee, her husband Robert, and his mistress Stella and essentially explores the sexual geometry of the eternal triangle (Zee+Robert are particularly horrible, selfish individuals). Rather wonderfully written (it was an original screenplay) but, although I’ve never seen the film, I was somewhat put off by the knowledge that the characters were played by Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Caine and Susannah York respectively. I found it quite amusing to discover that this Penguin paperbook was originally priced at 0.25p (just published before decimalisation)!
To Have And Have Not (Ernest Hemingway): First published in 1937, this consists of three ‘long short stories’ which form three sections of the life of Henry Morgan, a struggling fisherman in the Florida Keys during the Great Depression, who makes a living by rum-running, gun-running and man-running between Florida and Cuba. I like Hemingway’s writing – except, in this case, for his regular references to one of the characters as ‘the n*gger’ (yes, I know it was written over 90 years ago, but I still think it’s awful). Morgan is forced by dire economic forces into the black-market activity of running contraband between Cuba and Florida. It’s a tough, uncompromising story about (as the title suggests) the haves and the have nots – about the rich and powerful and those who have no option but to bend to their will in order to survive (but many fail in the process).
Vagabond (Mark Eveleigh): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (theme: literary road trip). I really loved this book (published in 2024). Eveleigh has been a travel writer/journalist (I like his style of writing) for the past 25 years (he’s 54) and the book relates to a 1,225km solo hike – inspired by a nomadic vagabundo (vagabond/tramp) he met decades ago - across the Iberian Peninsula, from Gibraltar in the south to Estaca de Bares (Spain’s most northerly tip) carrying just a backpack and a hammock. I very much enjoyed the slow rhythm of the book – the walking-pace journey (although he actually completed his trek in 35 days – that’s 35km/nearly 22 miles per day!) and the fact that he hadn’t set himself any particular goals or time targets and was happy to take detours if something struck him to be of particular interest. Although he did occasionally stay in a hostel (some of the journey was part of the many Camino trails to Santiago de Compostela – although Eveleigh was travelling in the opposite direction of course), his main objective was live ‘under the stars’. Having said this, he was happy to use some of the bars and simple restaurants he encountered en route (and to replenish his water bottles). It’s a story about a trip he’d been promising himself and something of a celebration of rural Spain (he’s a UK citizen but had lived in Spain for several years in his 20s/30s and so language was not an issue). It’s something of a pilgrimage… it’s about the journey; the people he met on the way (and the rural communities); the challenges he faced (including the heat and his agonising blisters!); the history of his surroundings; and the value of slowing down and noticing things. A beautiful book.

ocean…

I went along to the Watershed tonight to see David Attenborough’s new film 'Ocean' (unsurprisingly, it’s about the oceans!) – released on this 99^th birthday and providing a backdrop to his remarkable career and to how much we’ve learnt during his long lifetime.
After watching so many of his nature programmes on the BBC, I somehow felt it was important for ME to see this film as my personal acknowledgement/appreciation of his lifetime’s work (yes, I know that sounds a bit pompous!)… and a recognition that he’s unlikely to be with us for very much longer.
The film didn’t disappoint.
As you might imagine, the film is an array of stunning cinematography but it’s much, much more than that. It’s a breathtaking journey showing that there is nowhere more vital for our survival than the ocean. The film bluntly exposes the harsh realities and challenges facing our oceans - from destructive fishing techniques to mass coral reef bleaching. The footage of large ‘fishing factory’ boats scraping huge areas of the ocean floor was truly sickening… and yet, these boats were fishing legally and, in many cases, with the full support of key nations. The percentage of oceans that have protection orders is currently absolutely tiny (something like 3%); apparently, there’s a resolution at the forthcoming UN World Oceans Day pressing for this cover to be increased to approximately 30%.
Despite the horrors, the film’s story is also one of optimism - with Attenborough pointing to inspirational stories from around the world, providing a lens of hope. It’s been shown that the ocean has the amazing ability to recover and indeed flourish.
Attenborough’s leadership in these matters has been (and remains) utterly inspirational. It would be a fitting legacy to know that we heeded his wise counsel before it’s too late.
A brilliant, depressing and yet encouraging film that governments across the world should be compelled to watch… and act on urgently. 
You need to see it too!
Note: UN’s World Oceans Day on 8 June.

another cricket friday…

I went along to the Suite Unique Stadium in Bristol again today to watch the first day’s play of Gloucestershire v Kent… and the sun was shining (again!).
An interesting day! Glos won the toss and put Kent into bat. The decision seemed totally justified by lunchtime – Kent had struggled to 85-5. But Gloucestershire then really struggled for the remainder of the day; they took just ONE more wicket while Kent added a further 301 RUNS by the close!! Glos also managed to drop three catches in the process… (Kent ended the day on 386-6, with Grant Stewart 173 not out and Chris Benjamin 82no).
But, hey, it was a very enjoyable day nevertheless... even if you supported Gloucestershire.
Note: Much amusing banter from the not-so-old codgers (in their 60s?) standing nearby… well, at least it STARTED as amusing banter but, as the day wore on… and as more beer was consumed, the subject-matter degenerated from cricket memories of their youth to politics (and, in particular, immigration)… and, of course, as the hours passed, the volume increased! I ended up moving away.

the extraordinary miss flower…

I went along to the Watershed again this afternoon to see ‘The Extraordinary Miss Flower’ film from artists Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard.
Geraldine Flower certainly wasn’t famous in her lifetime (she was born in Australia, worked for the Daily Telegraph in London for a time and travelled extensively) but, when she died in 2019 (aged 72), her daughter discovered a suitcase in her London flat packed with hundreds of love letters written to her by the adoring men in her life during the 1960s and 70s. She was apparently known for her independent spirit and adventurous lifestyle(!).
The letters inspired a 2024 album by Icelandic singer-songwriter Emilíana Torrini (a singer I first came across in 2008) and, in turn, resulted in this intriguing documentary film/studio performance. I found the whole project absolutely enthralling – reminders of a woman’s colourful life and complex relationships (viewed from her lovers’ perspectives!) dramatised in part through film (Caroline Catz features as Miss Flower… and with the likes of Nick Cave and Richard Ayoade reading out some of the letters) and live studio performances (including some dance) of Torrini’s songs. Inevitably, there will be some who would have liked there to have been more songs featured in the film and, perhaps more likely, some who were desperate to hear more extracts from the letters. In the event, I think they got the balance about right.
It’s an evocative exploration of Geraldine Flower’s life and I found it really rather lovely. I think she would have found her suitcase of letters spawning a film and an album of songs absolutely hilarious!

sunny cricket day at taunton…

I had a lovely cricket day in Taunton today (my second Championship game in a week!). 
Somerset were playing Essex; won the toss and, surprisingly for many of us, elected to put Essex into bat. It proved to be a pretty decent decision – Essex were bowled out for 206 (although, at one stage, they were 136-7!) and Somerset were 9-1 at the close. 
The highlight of the day was undoubtedly the masterly bowling of Jack Leach – who ended with figures of 3 for 35 in 30 overs.
Perfect weather. A couple of beers and excellent cricket.
Photo: Leach in action.

first cricket of the season…

I went along to the Seat Unique Stadium yesterday to watch Gloucestershire (currently next to bottom of the league) play Leicestershire (league leaders).
It proved to be an ‘interesting’ day’s play – with 14 wickets falling during the course the day. Glos were 87-6 at lunch, but recovered to 252 all out; Leics finished at 91-4 at the close.
As ever, I was intrigued (and entertained) by the conversations going on around me by ‘typical cricket-loving old codgers’ like me!
These were just THREE extracts from two Leicestershire supporters sitting on the next table:
“Did I ever tell you about the time I played with Courtney Walsh when I was in the West Indies?
“Zak Crawley once asked for my advice…”
“I played against Gary Lineker at Stamford Bridge… I’ve got the programme to prove it!”
I enjoyed my day, my beer, my roast pork roll AND my cricket!
A very good day.
Photo: A few random images.

blue road…

Moira and I went to the Watershed again yesterday afternoon.
I LOVE Edna O’Brien (she died last July, aged 93) - I’ve read six of her books - and I absolutely LOVED this documentary film of her life by director Sinéad O’Shea.
Her real-life story is/was absolutely fascinating. As a young woman in rural Ireland, O’Brien ran away with writer Ernest Gébler and their unmarried relationship so outraged people that they fled to England (where they got married and had two children). O’Brien’s first novel, ‘The Country Girls’, was incredibly successful – although it infuriated Irish religious opinion. Gébler (who appears to have been something of a monster!) was massively envious (and abusive) and also made O’Brien sign over her royalty cheques to him (he allowed her small amounts of ‘housekeeping’ money)!! Finally, she refused, walked away and, ultimately, they divorced – with both children adamant that they wanted to live with Edna (resulting in Gébler targeting his sons!).
O’Brien’s successful writing continued (enabling her to buy a smart Chelsea townhouse) and, during the 1960s/70s, Edna had fashionable parties and various affairs with rich and famous men from the world of politics, the arts and entertainment.
The film includes readings from her diaries and insightful and touching interviews with her sons Carlo and Sasha Gébler. It also includes generous and good-humoured interviews with O’Brien over a number of years, but I particularly loved the extended interview with her just before her death in 2024.
It’s a thoroughly enjoyable, beautiful and engaging study.
I absolutely loved it. 

april 2025 books...

Pigs Have Wings (PG Wodehouse): Another ‘comfort’ book choice (first published in 1952). As the title suggests, the story is about pigs – and in particular a certain ‘Empress of Blandings’, who is endeavouring to win the renowned ‘Fat Pigs Class’ at the agriculture show for the third year in a row. As usual with Wodehouse, there are LOTS of characters (I get easily confused!); country houses; Lords and Ladies (and butlers); engaging (and disengaging) couples… and, of course, people with very strange names (eg. Gally Threepwood, Fruity Biffen, Puffy Benger and the like). Typically, Wodehouse’s colourful descriptive tales also contain ridiculous, complicated plots and LOTS of inevitable misunderstandings. Entertaining… but I now think I’ve had enough Wodehouse for a while.
Definitions Of Kitchen Verbs (Kenneth Wilson): I first came across Wilson’s poetry at Bristol Cathedral’s recent ‘Lenten Quiet Day’. I enjoyed reading his poetry (out loud to myself) as part of my daily early morning ‘discipline/reflection’ (as it happens, coinciding with the run-up to Easter Week). It’s certainly not a ‘religious book’ (phew), but I found it both thought-provoking and valuable… mixing happy memories, hopes, doubts and regrets. 
The City And The City (China Miéville): This is our next Blokes’ bookgroup selection (by Ian). As a rule, I like detective/crime mystery novels… but I’m afraid I didn’t like this one - with its sci-fi/fantasy scenario. Inspector Tyador Borlú of the Besźel Extreme Crime Squad is faced with the corpse of a university student. The novel’s setting is complicated (understatement!): on the one hand, there is a once beautiful but now dishevelled city of Besźel and, on the other, there's the modernised Ul Qoma. These two cities occupy the same geographical space, but divided not by walls, but certain areas belong to Besźel, others to Ul Qoma, while some are ‘crosshatched’ between the two. Citizens from one city learn from birth to ‘unsee’ the citizens, vehicles, buildings of the other. Any crossing of these boundaries invokes a shadowy organisation called ‘Breach’, which exists to police the separation. The trouble (for me) was that the reader had to glean this information for him/herself… it wasn’t explained; you just gradually worked things out as the plot developed. I really needed this background to be explained from the outset. Yes, it’s an inventive, clever novel by a very intelligent writer (who I’ve subsequently seen described as a “leading exponent of the ‘new weird’”!) – but, sadly, rather too clever (and weird!) for me to appreciate fully. Sorry!
After The Apocalypse (Chris Goan): I’ve read this book of poetry (by my good friend Chris - and illustrated by another great mate, Si Smith) a number of times and have found it both helpful and thought-provoking. It’s a book written in the context of the Coronavirus pandemic (written in 3 sections: Before, During and After). I’ve been using the ‘After’ section (“poems that dare to look forward and imagine a world that is changing and re-shaping”) as part of my recent early morning reflections. It’s a special book that I know I’ll keep returning to.
The Liar's Dictionary (Eley Williams): This is our next Storysmith’s bookgroup selection (vaguely under the theme ‘humour’ – in an attempt to avoid the current, depressing World of Trump!). This novel follows two lexicographers 100 years apart – Mallory, who narrates in the present, and Winceworth, shown in 1899. Both work for Swansby’s New Encyclopaedic Dictionary, a somewhat lesser-known equivalent rival to the likes of the OED. Mallory’s boss, the last of a generation of Swansbys, sets her to investigate errors that had mysteriously accumulated in years gone by (as it happens, mischievous actions by Winceworth in connection with his romantic frustrations and loathing of his colleagues). Meanwhile, someone is calling the office issuing bomb threats on account of the dictionary changing its 1899 definition of marriage from “union between man and woman” to “between… persons” (Mallory wants to keep her sexuality private). Hey, it’s all quite complicated(!), but a very clever, charming, amusing and inventive book – full of a wonderful ‘word play’. An enjoyable read. PS: Reading this put me in mind of a non-fiction book (The Word Detective by John Simpson, former editor of the OED) that I read 3 years ago – which provided an evocative history of the painstakingly-slow work in producing and subsequently editing and updating the OED and it wasn’t until 1989 that the OED was published ‘from a computer database’.

USK Bristol: 10th anniversary!

Bristol Urban Sketchers are celebrating their 10^th Anniversary today on board MV Balmoral… (I’ve been a member for the past 7 years). It’s a brilliant, free, worldwide ‘organisation’ that encourages people to sketch en plein air (ie. outdoors). We meet at least once a month throughout the year – along with our sister group in Bath (which effectively means that many of us are meeting up twice a month).
It’s open to artists of all abilities (and age!) and, for me, it’s become one of the real highlights of my retired life! I’ve got to know some REALLY lovely people and made some brilliant friends along the way. It’s a wonderful, welcoming and encouraging community. Here in Bristol, we frequently have 30-40 people turning up at each session to sketch for up to two hours. Obviously, beer+wine are also involved(!) - once our sketches are completed, we meet up to share what we’ve done (and being nosey about the pens and paper we’ve each used)!
We even continued to meet during Covid lockdown – via Google StreetView and Zoom (I know!) and ended up ‘travelling’ to more than 20 locations around the world in the process.
After my family, it’s definitely one of the highlights of my life (huge thanks to Ian Adams for highlighting ‘Urban Sketching’ all those years ago). Who knew?!
Link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/906335416054980
Photo: One of our 10^th anniversary exhibition boards (we always try to get a ‘team photograph’ at the end of all our sketching sessions). 

march-april 2025 books…

The Bloomsbury Group (Frances Spalding): I’ve previously read Spalding’s excellent book about Vanessa Bell and a number of other books relating to Bloomsbury/Charleston artists/writers. This is a relatively short book about the Group, but one that provides an excellent résumé of both its activities and the people involved. More than half the book comprised fascinating brief biographies of the key players – some of whom (eg. Frances Partridge, Margery Fry, Gerald Brenan, EM Forster, Bertrand Russell) I hadn’t previously come across or associated with the Group. An excellent book.
Spring Unfurled (Angela Harding): Harding is a printmaker and illustrator and this rather beautiful, short book celebrates the Spring through her art (mainly linocut+silkscreen, but also some wood engraving). Her studio is at the bottom of her garden in Rutland – looking out onto sheep fields and farmland. Wildlife is her prime subject – birds, hares, dogs and plants (and the occasional building) – all set within the landscape. In past years, I’ve vaguely thought about trying out some linocuts… but, those who know me well, know that I’m not one to try new things or experiment (I know!)! It’s a beautiful book and is part of her ‘Seasons’ series (‘Summer Hum’, Falling into Autumn’ and ‘Winter’s Song’).
The Notebook: A History Of Thinking On Paper (Roland Allen): This book (published in 2023) is a fascinating study of notebooks throughout history. Who doesn’t love a notebook?! It’s a long, wide-ranging, amazingly researched book – over 400 pages – covering all sorts of issues and writers. Although I did end up reading it cover-to-cover, I did so fitting it in between reading other books (the only way I was able to take in and reflect upon the mass of detail and stories it contained?). From Da Vinci’s sketchbooks to scientific breakthroughs recorded in Marie Curie’s still-radioactive notebooks; those old Letts’ diaries; recipe books; journals; sketchbook/notebooks; being reminded of my many years of daily Filofax use and my list-making ‘codes’(!); the creative notebooks of the likes of Bob Dylan, Joan Didion… and SO much more. Brilliantly fascinating… “the joy of jotting things down”.
Three Days In June (Anne Tyler): I’ve previously read a couple of Tyler’s books and, although reasonably impressed, have never had the urge to read lots more (she’s written a LOT of books!). I suppose, in part, I read this one (published in 2025) to get away from all the rubbish going on in the world at present (again!). It features a 61-year-old woman who loses (or quits) her job the day before her daughter’s wedding… and, on top of it all, her ex-husband turns up at her door expecting to stay for the festivities (and he brings with him a cat looking for a new home). It’s about relationships, infidelity, trust and happiness. Tyler writes impressively; it’s a beautifully-observed book; and, yes, it’s an ‘easy read’ (I read it in a day)… but I also found it all a bit predictable too. Enjoyable nonetheless.
Highway Cello (Kenneth Wilson): I REALLY enjoyed this book… it was SUCH a pleasurable experience reading it (that sounds a bit strange doesn’t it!). Wilson sets out on a ‘mission’ (he doesn’t think the word ‘pilgrimage’ quite describes it) to cycle from Hadrian’s Wall to Rome… carrying his carbon-fibre cello strapped on to the back of his bike (together with his other ‘luggage’). Incredibly, he achieves his goal in 40 days… some 1,400 miles and climbing some 3.5 Everests in the process… and busking/giving concerts en route. Wilson is a poet, a cellist and (in his words) a “dreamer”… and, incidentally, an ex-vicar. I’m not sure how old he is (in his late 50s?), but he must be bloomin’ fit! Moira and I first came across him when hosted a Lenten ‘Quiet Day’ at Bristol Cathedral recently… and were really impressed with his music, his poetry and the man himself. I loved his writing style and his natural humour. His journey descriptions convey the scenery, the weather, the people (and their generosity and hospitality), his health (struggling with ‘carpal tunnel wrist’?), the language difficulties… and his naivety when it came to planning/appreciating his journey. I found the whole book hugely uplifting (and slightly, wonderfully mad!). I absolutely loved it.