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!

lincoln college, oxford: bear lane – 50 years on…

I was in Oxford yesterday (having lunch with three special ‘old’ friends) and, as I often do, I made sure I took the opportunity to stroll round this favourite city of my youth… including Christchurch Meadow, the Covered Market, the High and the like.
I also often take the opportunity to wander down Bear Lane – an area particularly close to my heart, because it was here that I was involved in a Graduate Housing scheme for Lincoln College (I was the project architect) while working for The Oxford Architects Partnership. That was back in 1976 – FIFTY years ago!
As you might imagine, access into this courtyard development in the heart of the city is strictly controlled and the last time I’d actually been inside was well over 30 years ago. By a stroke of luck, as I walking past the entrance on Bear Lane, one of the graduate students was entering. When I explained that I’d been the architect for the scheme and that it was 50 years old this year, he was only too pleased to allow me to step inside.
It conjured up lots of memories of when I was designing the scheme (including design meetings with the Bursar and where extravagant cakes were an essential ingredient!) and I had a real sense that the design had stood the test of time – certainly from an exterior perspective. It was also gratifying to see that it had been very well maintained and that the courtyards were clearly well-used.

A very special time.
Photos: some snaps taken on my brief walkabout.
PS: No doubt, 50 years on, today’s design brief would be somewhat different – provision for double beds and en-suite bathrooms would no doubt be high on the list of ‘essentials’! 

cricket in the april sunshine(!)…

I’ve vowed to watch more cricket this season… and so ended up at my second County Championship game of the season today in Bristol (Day 3: Gloucestershire v Lancashire). In part, I was keen to have an opportunity of watching James Anderson bowling for perhaps for the last time - well, for me at least (at the age of 43, how many more seasons does he have left in him?).
Gloucestershire have (again) had a struggling start to the season – they had lost their first two games by an innings. In this match, once again, their performance for the first two days had been depressingly poor: Glos 136 all out in the first innings (Lancs scored 240 in reply) and then finished the day 58-3 in their second innings (still 46 runs behind). Ridiculously, 17 wickets fell on the second day!
So the scene was set for the third day’s play (my brother reckoned I might be back home by 2pm!).
It all turned out very different… Glos’s overnight batsmen survived until just after lunch (Bracey ended on 114 and Hammond 82) and the home side were eventually bowled out for 305 – leaving Lancashire needing 202 runs to win. Lancashire ended the day 75-3 – still needing 127 runs to win.
Tomorrow promises to be a very close finish!
Photo: Anderson’s first ball of the day.
PS: Anyway, the sun DID shine and I thoroughly enjoyed my day.
PPS: James Anderson (sorry, Sir James Anderson!), at the age of 43, was the player I had really wanted to see in action. The last time I’d done so was in the Aussies Test at Edgbaston in 2019 – but, sadly, he only lasted 4 overs before going off with an injured calf. At Bristol, he looked to be head and shoulders above the other players (he ended up taking 3 wickets in Glos’s first innings and 4 in their second; almost got a hat-trick; and took a remarkable catch!).  

april 2026 books…

Inside The Wave (Helen Dunmore): I’ve read this book countless times – poems written at the end of Dunmore’s life (many from her hospital bed). Full of life’s reflections and memories. Another one of my early morning poetry ponderings. Beautiful and moving (as always).
Sincerity (Carol Ann Duffy): Another early morning re-read. Duffy is an acknowledged ‘top poet’, but I’ve never really particularly enjoyed her writing (despite having read four books of her poetry). This one “gazes out from the autumn of life” (in the words of the book’s cover) on scenes from her childhood, adolescence and adulthood… and “taking stock of a world in turmoil”. Sadly, for me, while I acknowledge her sincerity and sentiments, I once again found that her words didn’t really resonate for me.
The Places In Between (Rory Stewart): This fascinating book (first published in 2004) tells of Stewart’s remarkable journey at the beginning of 2002 on foot across Afghanistan, from Herat to Kabul – immediately following the defeat of the Taliban. Ridiculously (to the likes of me!), he chose to do so through the ice and snow of winter and, if that wasn’t hard enough, took the harshest, most inaccessible mountainous route (following the Mogul Emperor Babur)(Stewart had spent the previous 16 months walking through Iran, Pakistan and Nepal!). The journey took him 36 days (covering in excess of 25km each day!) and he endeavoured to record events in his diary at the end of each day (as well as sketching some of the people he stayed with along the way). The dangers and difficulties of the undertaking proved quite as intimidating as one would expect – unexploded mines, mountainous terrain, extreme weather, bandits/hostile factions (and further complicated by Stewart's acquisition of a large, elderly, toothless and semi-wild dog!). Stewart’s ability to speak and understand various languages was obviously crucial but, despite the difficulties, his survival was ultimately dependent on the kindness and hospitality of strangers in the villages they passed, who were mostly desperately poor. A rather wonderful book.
Greengates (RC Sherriff): Another Persephone book. I decided to read this book (first published in 1936) after previously having read and enjoyed Sherriff’s ‘The Fortnight In September’. The novel starts in the early 1920s, on the day Tom Baldwin retires (aged 58) from his job as Chief Cashier of an insurance company in London. Tom+Edith Baldwin live what appear to be pretty boring lives and the prospect of retirement seems somewhat depressing to them both. They have no family, no real friends, and very few interests. Edith finds the prospect of having Tom at home all day particularly challenging. But then, out of the blue, while re-tracing a walk they used to take in the early years of their marriage, they find that a new small housing estate is being planned close by… and they end up deciding to take the bold decision to sell up and move into one of these new houses… and the move transforms and revitalises their lives (new friends, new interests et al). It’s a ridiculously gentle, comfortable, feel-good tale of the ‘olden days’ – somewhat over-romanticised and idyllic - but, nevertheless, a welcome relief from some of today’s current horrors.  
And When Did You Last See Your Father? (Blake Morrison): I’d previously read this book twice before (first published 1993 – I first read it in 1994), but the last time was 15 years ago. It felt somewhat strange to be reading it again. Although Morrison’s father and my dad were very different characters (middle-class doctor/working-class printer), there were odd aspects of their stories that overlapped. Morrison’s father died in 1991, my dad died in 1992 (although my dad was a little older than Morrison); and Blake Morrison is a couple of years younger than me. It’s an incredibly honest, unflinching book. Morrison’s father was something of a charismatic, yet complicated man (“a loving father, a boastful ‘sexual charmer’, a skilled doctor, and a difficult man with a penchant for reckless driving and saving money”)… but, despite the obvious differences, the book triggered all sorts of memories of my own father and, at times, our own somewhat difficult relationship (and all those things I failed to ask him about!). What it also did was to remind me of my father’s final days – a time when I wanted to ask him about his life and his memories – but a time when my dad seemed in denial about his life coming to an end. A rather special book – and a compelling memoir.

first game of the cricket season at bristol…

I turned up at Bristol’s Seat Unique Stadium yesterday for Gloucestershire’s first home game of the cricket season. After Gloucestershire’s ‘very disappointing’ innings defeat by Middlesex earlier in the week, the signs weren’t good!
Anyway, a fresh start (I thought!). A chance to make amends(!?).
It didn’t start well.
Glos won the toss and put Durham in to bat (really?!).
The Durham openers made a nonsense of that decision by batting away untroubled in beautiful sunshine… and, at lunch, were 143-0 in 30 overs (at just a little under 5 runs/over!). By 2pm (170-0), Durham’s 21-year-old opener, McKinney, had scored his century. Just after 3pm (257-0), Durham’s other opener Lees had also become a centurion. Lees was eventually the first wicket to fall (305-1 in the 59^th over) – just after the floodlights had been switched on at 3.30pm!
It didn’t end well either (for Glos)!
The weather deteriorated somewhat (cold, blustery winds) and rain stopped play for a brief time. Play later resumed, but the day ended early when the players departed due to bad light – by which time, Durham’s score had advanced to 456-2 (with McKinney on 214 not out).
A really poor day for Gloucestershire (but a not altogether surprising one?)… and another defeat already beckons. I’m afraid they look like a very ‘ordinary’ team. The captain used eight (EIGHT!) bowlers yesterday and, frankly, none of them looked at all impressive or threatening. Last season, their batting was unreliable (to put it mildly) and I suspect it’ll be the same old story this season… and so the team will probably languish in the bottom half (or worse!) of the County Championship’s Division 2.
Frankly, I only go along to watch Gloucestershire because they’re my ‘local’ team and because I love watching ‘old fashioned’ cricket. Watching Somerset at Taunton (in Division one) would be a much better prospect – but involves a 30 minute+ train journey. Instead, I jump on no.75/76 bus and can be in the ground within 20 minutes.
So, I’ll no doubt continue to ‘enjoy’ watching my cricket in Bristol… sitting among tiny ‘crowds’ of under 100 people (and all of us old codgers)… and everyone talking about the ‘good old days’ and mis-remembering the cricketing days of their youth!!
Photo: This is McKinney hitting his second ‘six’ of the day – and the game is still only 55 minutes old!
Note: Sadly, yesterday, even though it’s the school holidays, I counted only half a dozen children in attendance.