may 2026 books…

Muscovy (Matthew Francis): Another book of poetry (from our local £5 bookshop). I’d never come across Francis before, so it was something of a random/cheap purchase. He writes well – lots of wonderfully vivid descriptions, frequently coupled with a sense of irony – but I can’t say I was absolutely captivated by this collection of his work. Hey ho!
The New House (Lettice Cooper): Another Persephone book (first published in 1936). The author was Jilly Cooper’s husband’s aunt (JC writes the preface in this edition). The story relates to the events of one long day in the lives of a (somewhat privileged) family, when some of them move house (from an imposing family house in extensive grounds to a small one overlooking a housing estate). There’s the ageing, somewhat selfish, mother (still recovering after her husband’s death); her son (in a somewhat struggling marriage, with a young daughter and living relatively close by); a daughter (confident, ambitious, engaged and living+working in London); and a second (older) daughter (living at home under the spell of her mother – will she ever leave?). It’s written in such a way that you feel that you ‘know’ each of the characters; you might not necessarily agree with some of them, but I found myself really caring for them in their respective circumstances. There’s an awful lot crammed into a single day, but I was completely hooked by it in the end (and by the author’s talents).
Notes From An Island (Tove Jannson+Tuulikki Pietila): I’d previously read ‘Tove’ Jannson’s ‘The Summer Book’ and ‘A Winter Book’ (she was the creator of the Moomin stories, but they’re definitely NOT my ‘cup of tea’!), but had never come across this one (first published in 1996 – although her essay ‘The Island’ was written in 1961)(which I enjoyed very much). For 26 summers (they eventually had to stop in their mid-70s), she and her graphic artist+life partner, ‘Tooti’ Pietila, lived on a small, rocky island of Klovharum in the Gulf of Finland. With initial help from “maverick builder-fisherman (Brunstrom), they built a cabin. They retreated here to live, paint and write “energised by the solitude and shifting seascapes”. This small book of notes/observations/photographs is something between a diary and a memoir (plus Pietila’s rather beautiful etchings) and I found it rather beautiful (and frequently quite funny). The never-ending battle with the elements; the constant fishing for food; the wildlife (Tooti frequently had to do her art under an umbrella to avoid bombardment from seabirds!); the routines they developed (and their list-making!); and the solitude. I really enjoyed it.
Animal Farm (George Orwell): This is our next Storysmith bookclub’s book (theme; ‘animals in literature’). I first read this book (first published in 1945) more than 30 years’ ago and then re-read it three years ago… so, I’m quite ‘familiar’ with this ‘biting satire upon dictatorship’ (as my book’s cover puts it). You’re probably well aware of the story: a farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With fierce idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. This wonderful, satirical book records the evolution from revolution against tyranny and, in turn, the devastating converse. The book includes the famous words: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others”. Times might have changed, but the message is still powerfully (+frighteningly) fresh – and, somehow, even more relevant with the likes of Trump ‘in charge’). Scarily brilliant.
In Secret (David Harsent): Another book of Harsent poetry. This one somewhat different to the books of his I’d previously read – based on some of the poems of the (unknown to me) Greek poet Yannis Ritsos (1909-90) he much admired (who wrote “in the face of ill health, personal tragedy and systematic persecution by successive hard-line right-wing regimes that lead to many years in prison or in island detention camps”). These feel like very compressed narratives… and yet, despite their fragmentation, they make for powerful reading.

the christophers…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed this morning (yes, morning… AND at the weekend too!) to see Steven Soderbergh’s film 'The Christophers', starring Ian McKellen and Michaela Coel.  

In the 1960s, Julian Sklar (McKellen) was a fixture of the London art scene, but he now lives in cluttered, self-imposed seclusion – something of a forgotten man (he’d been reduced from an illustrious household name to a man who sells spiteful video messages on ‘OnlyFans’!). Meanwhile, Julian’s estranged children (concerned that their inheritance was being depleted by Julian’s extravagant tastes and lack of output over the decades) have discovered an unfinished series of portraits in their father’s attic from Julian’s most prolific and successful period – inspired by his relationship with a man he called Christopher. They would like Lori (Coel), an ‘art restorer’ and an old art school acquaintance, to restore the canvases… and by ‘restore’ they mean forge them. I think I’d better leave it at that (* no spoilers)…

In fact, although the storyline had some merit, I thought the film’s main value related to the excellence of the acting and the chemistry between them. McKellen was predictably brilliant in a role that brought out the wealth of his acting talents – self-obsession/self-pity, charm, acidly witty observations and casual cruelty. I’d never previously come across Coel, but I thought she was perfect in her calm, ‘art restorer’/potential faker role. All played out by the two of them in a lovely, gentle, entertaining way.
The other aspect of the film that I found absolutely enchanting was Julian’s chaotic bohemian townhouse… someone must have really enjoyed themselves creating a film set of such convincing (and fascinating) clutter!
All in all, a very entertaining, enjoyable and rather lovely film.
PS: Perhaps my only gripe (and Moira agreed with me) was to do with the clarity of the dialogue at times (a regular issue with films for me these days)(American movies are the worse offenders!). I know my hearing isn’t 100%, but there were times when I did yearn for sub-titles (I know!).

cricket at taunton…

I went along to Taunton yesterday to watch the first day of the County Championship game between Somerset and Sussex. After a reasonable start to the season, Somerset had (somewhat embarrassingly) lost their previous two matches – after being in good positions after first innings in both of them… so, no pressure then!
Somerset won the toss and elected to bat and they went on to enjoy a pretty successful day – ending on 335-5 at the close. Tom Abell continued his excellent form, finishing on 74 not out at stumps, and James Rew celebrated his England Test squad call-up with an impressive 86 (including 3 sixes). Tom Lammonby also batted well for his 73. Sussex’s Ollie Robinson (also in England’s Test squad) bowled beautifully – especially in the morning session.
A really enjoyable day’s cricket and well worth my train journey!
I always enjoy watching cricket Taunton, but did find yesterday a little frustrating from a weather/spectator perspective. Somerset don’t make all their stands accessible (even for members), so there were two large areas of seating completely closed off (which, for the morning session, were both out of the wind and out of the sunshine). For me, as a non-member (I can’t access ‘membership stands’), my seating options – especially for the morning session, when there was only a smattering of sunshine and strong, cold winds blowing (ok, so I just had my jumper, no fleece or whatever!) – my options were somewhat limited. I could either sit in the face of the strong, cold wind; or in bleak shadow; or in the single, quite crowded stand. In the end, I just gritted my teeth and put up with the wind(!)… so it was good that the cricket was pretty decent. In the afternoon, when the sun was more prominent, I sat in a ‘perfect’ location… but the only problem was that it was a ‘no alcohol’ stand! So, I swallowed my pride (not beer!) and enjoyed the sunshine and the cricket. In the end, I only had a single pint of beer all day (which I consumed at lunchtime while poring over a treasure trove of old cricket books – fortunately, my satchel didn’t have any spare capacity!).
It was lovely to be back at Taunton… everything feels ‘just a little better’ than the quality of the cricket and/or the facilities you get at Bristol these days (despite the convenience, for me, of easy and speedy access). First Division cricket for £20, compared with Second Division cricket at Bristol for £17.
I hope to be back again soon.
PS: Somewhat ironically, Gloucestershire and Somerset were BOTH playing at home… so, when I heard that Glos had been 19-4 against Northants (they ended up 154 all out), I was glad I’d plumped for Taunton! Having said that, Northants struggled in their innings too and were 37-3 at the close (and rain had also stopped play)!
Photo: James Rew and Tom Lammonby leaving the field at lunchtime after a successful morning. 

club cricket in the sun…

Rather than watching Gloucestershire play Kent yesterday (or urban sketching in Bath), I decided to drop round to watch some club cricket at Bedminster CC, near Ashton Court. I love the whole business of club cricket… it feels very ‘real’ and down-to-earth compared with today’s ‘professional’ game which essentially seems to rely on player recruitment from public schools.
Having said that, yesterday’s main match was very different to the game of my youth! Bedminster 1^st XI were playing in a 50-over ‘white ball’ (what?) game against Burbage+Easton Royal; the teams were dressed in ‘coloured kit’ (what?) and, on top of it all, the umpires’s outfits meant they were indistinguishable from the opposition (what?)… the scoreboard was electronic, of course (no young lads updating numbers at the end of each over)(what?)… oh, and the wicket-keeper tucked his pads into his trousers (what?).
Yes, I know, I’m just a boring old codger these days!
But, hey, what a lovely way to spend outside in the sunshine…
Sitting close enough to the players to hear all their shouting and (mainly!) encouraging comments.
An awareness that many of the people watching were former players (and perhaps their sons were in the team?).
These are family occasions – with quite a few children in attendance by mid-afternoon.
The bar was open, the beer flowed and the cheese rolls were purchased.
And, of course, entry is free (which somehow justifies paying for the odd beer)!
Old men (mainly men) in small groups talking about ‘days gone by’.
The groundsman and the bar steward were clearly former players.
The idyllic backdrop (set against the suspension bridge).
Football was being played on the telly in the pavilion (this was later replaced by rugby!)(what?)
Impressive batting (from both sides – opening stands of 70 and 100+ respectively).
Outstanding wicket-keeping (with both keepers ‘standing up’ to quick bowlers).
Aged committee men pointing out ongoing issues.
The less successful batsmen trudging their way back to the pavilion and avoiding eye contact.
The hugely impressive standard of fielding – fast, athletic and accurate (very different from ‘my day’).
Bedminster’s opponents won the day by 5 wickets (one of the Burbage players scored a century; another scored 58 and took 5 wickets)(one of the Bedminster scored 57 and another 84 not out).
A lovely way to spend a summer afternoon.
Footnote: Meanwhile, on the club’s other pitch, Bedminster’s 4^th XI(!) were playing…
All the players wore traditional white and the ball was a traditional ‘red’.
The players were made up of a mix of youngsters and a few blokes ‘past their prime’.
I found the antics of one of the batsmen (a gentleman from ‘yesteryear’!) fascinating and somewhat annoying… he was rather arrogant in his manner and, of course, he was wearing his cricket cap; he was certainly not going to take any ‘quick singles’; and he clearly intended to show these ‘young whippersnappers’ a thing or two about the way the game should be played. I was glad when they got him out (quite cheaply)!
Bedminster also have a couple of women’s teams, but it was interesting to see that one of the 4^th XI’s players was female (perhaps aged 16/17?)… and she was a pretty impressive bowler too.
Photo: From the 4^th XI game (with the suspension bridge in the background and the impressive young woman bowler in action).

rose of nevada…

I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Mark Jenkins’ film about a ghost ship. It’s a mysterious drama steeped in loss, memory and the uncertainties of coastal life. The film begins with a local fisherman, in a depressed fishing town, who is astonished to find a vanished trawler, lost 30 years before in a storm, bobbing innocuously in the harbour. The boat has returned from the dead… but how on earth has this happened? The man seeks out the widow of one of the drowned fishermen (a woman with two grown-up daughters) and tells her the boat has returned…
Its reappearance is embraced as an auspicious sign, with the local citizens convinced the luck of their economically devastated community may turn, if only the ship sails again. And so it’s decided that the boat should be put to work… and an old captain (Francis Magee) is recruited, along with two young crew members, Nick and Liam (George MacKay and Callum Turner)(I particularly loved MacKay’s performance). Liam ('boozy, drifter') flirts with the lost fisher’s daughter in a pub; she gives him a present of her late dad’s old red cap, which he wears on board.
In due course, they return from their fishing trip with their boat bulging with fish… but everything has changed… the town seems busier, people are smoking in the pub and everything's more lively than before. The awful truth is that they have gone back in time to 1993, three years before Nick’s birth, and everyone in town thinks that Nick and Liam are the two men who vanished. How come? It’s all very disturbing… what about Nick’s partner and child? But Liam has simply accepted the situation - an agreeable new reality of living with the widow – that is, the mother of the woman he had been flirting with – as a husband and father.
Reality? A happier future than the one that actually happened or a premonition of disaster and gloom from 30 years ago?
It’s an impressive, eerie, elusive, complex and haunting film (cleverly put together, where appropriate, to give the impression of times past/time slip) – exploring the realities (and unrealities!) of life in a fishing village, with its constant presence of death and the pressures of making a living for families and communities.
Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Gone Fishing’!

april-may 2026 books…

Loss (David Harsent): Again, Harsent has been part of my daily, early morning reading routine. Of all the Harsent books I’ve read, I found this the most difficult. It features a man sitting at a window through the dead hours of the night… he’s afflicted by personal loss, but also struggling with an awareness that he lives in a very troubled world. It’s enthralling, complex, intense and haunting.
She Who Remains (Rene Karabash): Our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (theme: books from obscure/under-represented countries – this one is from Bulgaria) and has been shortlisted for the International Booker Prize 2026. High in the Albabian Mountains, in a village ruled by the ancient laws of the Kanun, 17-year-old Bekija escapes an arranged marriage by becoming a sworn virgin, renouncing her womanhood to live as a man. Her decision sets off a brutal chain of events, destroying her family (by tradition, it triggers a blood feud between the families - one of Bekija’s family has to die. Bekija chooses her brother, Sále – but he runs away and so her father is killed instead). Crucially, it also separates her from her one true love (a woman named Dhana). 16 years later, as Bekija – now Matija – tells their story to a visiting journalist, long-buried truths come to light, along with the realisation of all that might have been. So much I could add (*no spoilers*)! The story is mainly told through the voice of Bekija (who is illiterate) and the narrative mostly lacks punctuation or conventional paragraphs. There were times when I found it quite confusing: it’s often difficult to distinguish things when a stream of words or individual words are simply divided by commas: Is that an observation, description or spoken word?… and who was saying or thinking that? But it’s a very beautiful, dark and haunting book (just 155 pages) – almost dreamlike in style.
Murder At The Beach (ed. Cecily Gayford): Billed, according to the book’s cover, as “Classic Mysteries for Summer”! This book comprised 10 short stories by such distinguished authors as Margery Allingham, Ellis Peters and Michael Innes and was very much as one might have anticipated – except that the tales didn’t always involve murders or necessarily have any direct connection with beaches… but hey! Enjoyable, straightforward, escapist reading matter.
In The Blood (Andrew Motion): Another re-read – I previously read this 15 years ago (first published 2006). I’m a great admirer of Motion’s writing but, in re-reading this engaging memoir, found myself frequently resenting (although not in an envious way) his middle-class upbringing and I particularly found the hunting, horse-riding and prep/public school stuff hard to take. Motion is 2-3 years younger than me and I couldn’t help contrasting our respective life styles (he didn’t go on his first bus until he was 10, poor chap!) and his detailed recollections compared with my own rather vague memories of childhood (fortunately my lovely brother is able to fill in many of the details!). Motion writes beautifully and, despite it being annoying at times (to me, at least, in my anti-establishment way!), I thought it was an amusing, honest, poignant and powerful book.
Hop, Step And Jump (Winifred Watson): Another Persephone book (first published in 1939). On the face of it, this isn’t ‘my kind of novel’. For a start, it’s a romance… but where this is perhaps a little different is that it’s about a woman having a second chance, moving on and changing creatively (apparently something of a common theme in some of Watson’s other novels). Jenny is a working-class young woman in 1930s England who abandons her husband… (probably best if I leave it at that: *no spoilers*!). It’s a book in which the author explores sexual, family and class tensions in ways that might flout convention, but which focus on a woman’s ability and determination to survive and flourish. An enjoyable and intriguing read.

hejira: a celebration of joni mitchell at st george’s…

One of my regrets in life is never to have seen Joni Mitchell perform ‘live’ and, clearly, it’s now very unlikely that this will change (after her brain aneurysm rupture in 2015, she no longer tours – just the occasional public performances). So, I content myself with playing and enjoying her music at home on a very frequent basis. As you might imagine, it reminds me of my early college days when I first ‘discovered’ her music… she’s been my musical idol ever since.
So, last night I went along to St George’s for a concert entitled ‘Hejira: A Celebration of Joni Mitchell’. Actually, some 18 months ago, I was at a similar concert at St George’s (‘The Songs of Joni Mitchell’) and, for that, I was joined by our Bristol-based daughters, Ru+Hannah, plus Moira (they’re lovely like that! xx). Last night was purely a personal, self-indulgent time to myself.
My favourite ‘Joni songs’ tend to be late 1960s/early 70s (Song to a Seagull, Clouds, Ladies of the Canyon, Blue etc); last night’s concert focussed mostly on songs from the late 70s - which was fine by me (although they did finish with an encore of ‘Both Sides Now’).
As I expected, it proved to be a really enjoyable evening, featuring: Hattie Whitehead (vocals+guitar); Ollie Weston (tenor+soprano saxophones); Chris Eldred (keyboards); Pete Oxley (guitar); Dave Jones (bass); Rick Finlay (drums); and Marc Cecil (percussion).
As usual, I sat upstairs in my favoured Gallery position – close to the stage. In some ways, this is a bit of a mixed blessing – a perfect view of the musicians/performers but, from a sound perspective, some of the quality clearly suffers. I thought that was the particularly the case last night. Vocalist Hattie Whitehead has a wonderful voice but, from my position, she was often somewhat drowned out, to some extent, by what seemed to be an over-enthusiastic drummer(!) – particularly in some of the songs before the interval. In some ways, I think the same comment could be applied to the other musicians. Don’t get me wrong, all of the musicians were clearly incredibly gifted artists in their own right, but I just had the feeling that, at times, some of them were trying too hard to impress! It’s probably all down to my seating location, but I just wanted to ‘turn down’ the drums, bass and guitar and to ‘turn up’ the singer!
Nevertheless, an evening of stunning music and wonderful memories.
Photo: From last night’s concert.
PS: Just in case you didn’t know, ‘Hejira’ is the name of Mitchell’s studio album, released in 1976 (fifty years ago!).
PPS: I also thought some of Pete Oxley’s ‘between-the-songs-chat’ went on far too long!