new year reflections: december 2021…

I’ve been scribbling New Year reflections on my blog for a number of years now (as always – just a reminder for ME… because I forget stuff so easily!). This now all seems a little tedious and repetitive, so I’ll keep it much shorter than usual! Given the continuing fall-out from the pandemic, this year has been another year of huge uncertainty… and, for some, pain and devastation. In my reflections of a year ago, I referred to “more than 70,000 deaths and some 2.3million cases of Covid-19”; in the past 12 months (and despite the vaccines), these figures have more than doubled.
This year’s reflections are somewhat curtailed compared with previous years…
WONDERFUL BOOKS:
The Storysmith Book Group (run by our lovely local bookshop) has continued to be brilliant - interesting books, lovely people and good fun too (albeit that we had to ‘meet’ via zoom in the early part of the year)… and I’ve also been part of the ‘Blokes Books’ bookgroup involving some great mates – but it seems to take ages to read each book/organise a meet-up! Here are 15 of my favourites (in no particular order): 
Still Life (Sarah Winman), Hamnet (Maggie O’Farrell), English Pastoral (James Rebanks), The Shepherd’s Life (James Rebanks), The Manningtree Witches (AK Blakemore), We’ll Always Have Paris (Emma Beddington), Shuggie Bain (Douglas Stewart), Many Different Kinds Of Love (Michael Rosen), Tales From Lindford (Catherine Fox), Broken Greek (Pete Paphides), Wintering (Katherine May), Homesick (Catrina Davies), Motherwell (Deborah Orr), The Man Who Died Twice (Richard Osman) and And Away (Bob Mortimer).
 
GREAT FILMS:
I’ve continued to watch lots of films via BBC iPlayer (and also, more recently, via Netflix) but, in the circumstances, it seems pointless to list my favourites. I’ve only been to the ‘actual’ cinema twice this year (the beginning of October was the first time since March 2020!)… the two films I saw were ‘Anthropcene: the Human Epoch’ and the wonderful Wes Anderson’s ‘The French Dispatch’.
 
LOVELY LIVE PERFORMANCES/EXHIBITIONS:
It’s been SO sad not to have been able to go to the theatre, concerts and see exhibitions this year. We’ve really missed it. Here are the few that we did get to experience (hardly any!):
THEATRE:
Nil.
CONCERTS:
Karine Polwart (St George’s)(wonderful).
Three Cane Whale (St George’s).
EXHIBITIONS:
Moonlit (Ruth Broadway)(Devon Guild, Bovey Tracey)(brilliant exhibition!!)
Netsuke: Miniature Masterpieces from Japan (Bristol Museum+Art Gallery)
Grayson’s Art Club (Bristol Museum+Art Gallery).
SPORTING MOMENTS:
I haven’t watched ANY first-class sport in the past year. I didn’t renew my season ticket for the Bristol Bears (rugby) due to my reluctance to gather in large crowds. Sadly, I also didn’t get to watch a single first-class cricket game (that’s two years running!)… I went to Bedminster Cricket Club perhaps three or four times (on their beautiful, scenic ground overlooking the suspension bridge), but that was all. Despite my initial reservations, I DID end up watching the cricket ‘Hundred’ competition whenever it was on terrestrial telly – and ended up enjoying it.
  
ART STUFF:
Despite Covid, it’s been another enjoyable, busy year, including:
1. I’ve still very much enjoyed continuing to post a drawing or photograph every day as part of my “One Day Like This” blog (just over 3,400 consecutive days – that’s some 1,700 drawings and 1,700 photographs - since I started in September 2012, more than 9 years ago). Circumstances have limited the number of times I’ve been able to draw ‘on location’, but ‘being adaptable’ has seemed to be the key requirement this year and it’s been fine.
2. The brilliant Drawing Group I joined in 2017 – organised by the lovely, talented artists Charlotte and Alice Pain – has been probably come to an end. Hopefully, we might organise the occasional get-together over the coming months.
3. Sadly, there was no ‘live’ South Bristol Arts Trail again this year (we’d previously participated for 15 consecutive years). Following our house move (and no studio space etc), I’m pretty sure we’ve now done our share of arts trails.
4. Urban Sketchers, Bristol: I’ve continued to really enjoy this wonderful group (which I joined in March 2018)… it’s a worldwide organisation and, here in Bristol, in ‘normal times’, we’d meet up every month and regularly get more than 20 people coming along. This year has again proved difficult(!), but we’ve adapted wonderfully well (again, thanks to technology)… and have continued to ‘meet’ together in various locations around the world via Google/Streetview. Happily, over some of the summer and autumn months, we’ve also been able to meet up ‘on location’ – and it’s been great to be able to meet up with lovely friends again. It’s a real highlight and joy.
5. Blurb book (‘The Winter’s Tale’): I put together another self-published book of photographs (plus a few sketches) – this time covering the second six months of the pandemic (September 20-March 21).
 
HOLIDAYS/LEISURE: 
No proper holidays at all this year (for the second year running) – although we did have two days in Lytham in late October… which, very happily, we were able to combine with a visit to Alice+Dave+co (the first time we’d actually seen the grandchildren for two years!).

SPIRITUAL LIFE: 
We continue to be part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city, but I have to admit that, rather like the previous 12 months, I’ve struggled faith-wise over the past year (not helped that our brilliant leader, Lee Barnes, moved on to pastures new in September). We’ve been alternating services with our sister church community at Holy Trinity Hotwells. Church services have continued to be affected by Covid restrictions and, sadly, I’ve missed the intimacy and informality that I felt we used to have (certainly at Saint Stephen’s). Six or so of us ‘meet up’ most Wednesday mornings at 7.30am at the Society Café on the harbourside (or via zoom) for “Bloke’s Prayer”… and it’s something which has proved to be hugely rewarding. Regular Tuesday night ‘Resonate’ meetings have also proved interesting (although, again, reduced in regularity due to Covid).
 
HEALTH:
My health has been pretty good this year… apart from the normal ageing process. My teeth continue to fall out; my back feels ‘delicate’ most mornings when I first wake (but settles down); my hearing is deteriorating (I have hearing aids, but don’t use them!); I take tablets for my atrial fibrillation plus blood thinners and statins; I take eye drops to deter my glaucoma; and I’m pretty sure that my left hip will need replacing over the next few years!!
OTHER STUFF:
We continue to be a no-car household… and use a local car club very occasionally (but only once this year, I think!). We've continued to be rather Bristol-bound - and have only used buses and trains very occasionally.

I love reflecting back on the things that have happened over the previous twelve months and, each year, it’s a reminder that there WILL be some very special things that they will happen in the coming year (setting aside pandemics!) – even though, at this moment, I don’t know what the coming year will bring. Clearly, I’m also aware that there will inevitably be some sad stuff too… and perhaps challenges we feel ill-equipped to face. In such times, families and friendships will, once again, see us through.  

For us as a family, it’s been another good year… and we continue to count our blessings.
I wish you (and all yours) a very happy, healthy and peaceful 2022… and perhaps a return to some kind of normality would be a huge bonus!
Photo: Moira and me on the balcony just after our ‘move’.

2021 (moving) reflections…

Despite the continuing pandemic issues, it’s been a pretty special year for us, so I thought I’d scribble some reflections (for posterity, you understand!). We moved house to a two-bed apartment in the heart of Bristol (the Central Library and Cathedral are our new neighbours). As you might imagine - after living in a three-storey house in Southville for the past 18 years – the adjustment has been quite significant.

It was Moira who was keen for us to make the move… she felt that we needed to have a home that was relatively straightforward to maintain in our dotage (not something that could be said of our 175 year-old Southville house!). We’d talked about a possible move for some time but, frankly, I wasn’t that keen and would have been very happy (or perhaps simply too lazy or stubborn?) to have remained at Mount Pleasant Terrace (MPT) for the rest of our lives. But we were also conscious of the cost implications of maintaining an old house and so that, in the end, was the driving force for our move (despite my own reservations).Inevitably (thank goodness!), it was also Moira who did all the homework (what might be available; size; location; costs etc). I rather opted out of the process – almost on the basis that if I didn’t think about it, we’d stay in our old house!In the event, after perhaps 2 or 3 months of ‘trawling’ by Moira, we began the ‘serious’ process of seeing what was available in April. 

We put our house on the market at the end of April and were very fortunate to have the sale agreed within a matter of a few days. Somewhat ridiculously, you might think, we ourselves only actually viewed one other property before seeing the property that ended up becoming our home. That was at the beginning of May and, again, things went ahead without a hitch and our offer was quickly accepted (and so we were in the fortunate position of having no chain in either selling or purchase!). We ended up ‘moving in’ on 24 August.
Everything has gone remarkable well (so far!) and, even though there were no serious glitches in the whole process (and neither of us had jobs to maintain or childcare to manage!), we did find it all pretty stressful. It certainly made us appreciate the fact that we’d moved at the ‘right’ time… the thought of us moving in, say, 10 years’ time made us realise that, by then, we’d have become incredibly dependent on our children to help us move. The business of ‘downsizing’ has obviously been quite tough at times (especially given all the stuff we used to store in the basement at MPT and ALL of our books – well over 2,000 of them)(we gave away some 600 others to charity), but we seem to have managed the changes remarkably well. Much of our old furniture has been sold or given away and we’ve managed to purchase more practical replacements. Thanks, in part, to the wonderful help from son-in-law Dave, we now have shelves, worktops and storage units in place (I did produce some shelves myself, but not in the same class!). Thanks to Mary+Amy (Painting in Plaits), we’ve redecorated the living/dining area. We’ve installed a new carpet, changed light fittings. In short, within four months of moving, we’ve basically managed to ‘sort out’ the apartment to our satisfaction… and, as an added bonus, we didn’t put the heating on until the start of December!!

So, coming towards the end of the year, we look back and feel very ‘good’ about our move. We love the apartment’s location – within a stone’s throw of College Green – with easy access to a multitude of bus routes (including to Ru+Stu’s and Han+Fee’s, as necessary), train station, theatre, cinema, concert halls, galleries, harbour, church and the like. I particularly love the fact that the Watershed cinema – somewhere I would frequent on almost a weekly basis pre-Covid - is now only a 5-minute walk away… so I’m hoping to get back into cinema-going again in 2022 (albeit still cautiously). We’ve also been pleasantly surprised that supermarket (and other) deliveries have been very straightforward and efficient. There are some downsides, of course. The main one is the lack of small, independent stores nearby… we have the fortnightly farmers’ market at St Nick’s (and, of course, Hugo’s fruit+veg and Storysmith bookshop is still only a 30 minute walk away). I love walking through College Green in the early morning (especially with the sunlit breaking through the trees)… and having Brandon Hill on our doorstep (literally) is a huge bonus.

Obviously, moving away from MPT has also meant that we no longer have the studio in the basement… and, of course (and very sadly), Ru has had to find herself alternative studio space. We hugely miss having Ru with us on a regular basis for morning coffees and snack lunches. In the same way, we miss having Iris+Rosa round for supper a couple of times a week after school. Obviously, our apartment is no longer on the school route, so things would have changed anyway but, after 18 months of ‘lockdown’, they’re both 20 months older and far more independent are into very different routines these days.

Our apartment is two floors up from the street frontage (four floors up on the south side)(and with a decent lift!). We love our south-facing balcony – which runs the full width of our living/dining area and allows in plenty of sunlight. Living on an upper floor level, we’ve also discovered the added bonus (given the fully-glazed ‘wall’ between our living/dining area and balcony) of being even more aware of the sky… and, strangely, of the birdlife. Perhaps because I’m more aware of observing early mornings from our balcony, I haven’t been on as many ‘dawn walks’ as I used to… but I’m also aware that the Broken Dock/Millennium Promenade might have become my ‘Marina substitute place’ (although it’s more impressive at dusk than dawn).

Some people will no doubt see our move as something of a concluding chapter as we enter our ‘declining years’(!)… but, perhaps somewhat strangely, we see it simply as the next chapter in our ‘life adventure’ together. We don’t quite know what the future will bring, but it feels like an exciting time - with fresh challenges and new things to discovery and enjoy. 
We feel very fortunate people. X
Photo: balcony skies. 

december 2021 books…

The Migrant (Paul Alkazraji): This is our next Bloke’s Books book. The novel is set in the Balkan Peninsula at a time when Greece was struggling with the aftermath of its debt crisis and austerity and in a world featuring “fascist populists, callous sex-traffickers and violent anti-austerity riots” - in which an English pastor, based in Albania, sets out to “rescue” a “vulnerable 19-year old from the Athenian underworld”. I’m afraid I really didn’t like this book at all. I thought it was poorly written and I frequently found the writing style laughably appalling. I thought the plot was flawed (or, at the very least, made me question why so many people were unreasonably put in danger in order to ‘justify’ the plot); I found it exasperating when characters paused and prayed at various stages (I should have realised that “Instant Apostle” is a pioneering publishing house “seeking to bring new and existing authors to the market” and that they publish books “written from a Christian perspective”)(much too ‘evangelical for my liking!). I thought it was poorly edited (if at all) and it seemed that the writer was desperate to impress his readers that he’d put in his research – to the extent that descriptions were frequently far too detailed (and massively unnecessary). I was SO pleased when I finished the book.
The Honjin Murders (Seishi Yokomizo): First published in serial form in 1946, this murder mystery novel, set in a Japanese village in 1937, is the first Yokomizo book I’ve read. It features a young, somewhat scruffy-looking, amateur detective by the name of Kosuke Kindaichi (now regarded as Japan’s most famous fictional detectives) who arrives on the scene to solve a seemingly impossible crime. The book takes the form of the classic crimes novels of the 1920s-40s – with meticulous detail, blind turns, red herrings, dubious alibis and an ingenious (if rather ridiculously-complicated) plot. Enjoyable and entertaining nevertheless.
Carry On, Jeeves (PG Wodehouse): I succumbed to the prospect of (yet) another Jeeves+Wooster book… this one (first published in 1925) is a series of short(ish) stories and observations supposedly from the hand of Wooster (except for the final one – penned in the words of his gentleman’s gentleman). They’re all very predictable… about the hallowed world of the moneyed aristocracy and privilege (which, naturally, includes an Oxbridge education despite the apparent lack of intellect). It’s all painfully familiar – with Jeeves coming to the rescue whenever Wooster or his friends require an excuse to break an engagement (of the impending marriage kind); or salvaging honour from an ill-advised business venture; or avoiding the wrath of an ancient aunt (always aunts!) or whatever. It all makes for light, hilarious, entertaining reading (Wodehouse has an absolute gift for dialogue and descriptions) – a very welcome relief from today’s world of political sleaze and disease.
111 Places in Bristol (Martin Booth): This guidebook takes you off the beaten track and identifies 111 quirky, strange and beautiful places to visit in Bristol. I was probably familiar with (or at least aware of) perhaps 90 of those included. A rather lovely reminder of places I need to re-visit or re-discover in our lovely city.

Like last year, the number of books I read in 2021 was somewhat less than in recent years (64… compared with 74 and 94 in 2020 and 2019). Probably something to do with different routines and, of course, time being swallowed by our house move.

november-december 2021 books…

Mystery Mile (Margery Allingham): First published in 1930, this is my third Allingham novel (and third ‘Campion Mystery’). I have to admit that I’m not a great lover of the Albert Campion character… Google(!) describes him as: “affable, inoffensive and bland, with a deceptively blank and unintelligent expression”. This book tells the story of an American judge who has found evidence pointing to the identity of a criminal mastermind behind a sinister gang. After four attempts on his life, he seeks the help of Campion. Predictably, it was very much a crime novel of its time – with an intricate plot, middle-class leanings and, of course, came with its own “Map of Mystery Mile” (a Suffolk village joined to the mainland by a narrow road of ‘hard land’ and surrounded by impassable mud flats)! I thought it was fine, but nothing exceptional… a welcome break from the political frustrations and the continuing pandemic concerns.
The Manningtree Witches (AK Blakemore): This is our latest Storysmith bookgroup book (theme: ‘2021 paperback’). The book is a fictional account of the Essex witch trials of the 1640s – a time when puritanical fervour had gripped the nation and when places were depleted of men due to the Civil War. A self-appointed ‘Witch-finder General’ (and his assistant) was active across East Anglia and the Home Counties during this time and was estimated to ‘have had a hand’ in the execution (for witchcraft) of some 100-300 women (and some men). In the past, I’ve frequently expressed a dislike for ‘fictionalised history’ (with all its invented conversations)… but I’ve since been won over by the likes of Hilary Mantel and Maggie O’Farrell! Well, I found this book absolutely compelling – wonderfully written (Blakemore is a prize-winner poet) and extensively researched. It’s a deeply-moving account of the appalling witch-hunts (based on trial accounts) and provides a powerful insight into the fears, lives and deaths of the many voiceless victims. A brilliant book.
Think Like A Mountain (Aldo Leopold): This is a series of beautiful, lyrical essays on America’s wildlands. They were all written before I was born (Leopold died in 1948) and provide a fascinating insight on wildlife ecology and sowed the seeds of contemporary environmental thinking. Leopold recognises and celebrates the interdependence between humanity and the natural world. He was clearly way ahead of his time and was hugely critical of what he saw as the insensitivity and greed of people who were out to change landscapes and habitat for short-term financial gains and long-term environmental catastrophe. A really impressive, thought-provoking and challenging set of essays.
The Man Who Died Twice (Richard Osman): Well, I have to admit that I feel a certain resentment when celebrities already earning a small fortune on television turn their hand to writing books and are quite brilliant at it! You’ve probably read Osman’s amazingly-successful first ‘Thursday Murder Club’ book. If you did, then you have another treat in store with this second one (and, if you didn’t, start dropping massive hints for it to be added to your Christmas stocking). It’s another crime novel set in an affluent retirement village where, every Thursday, four of the over-60s inmates/amateur sleuths gather to investigate stuff that the local police force have failed to solve. This time the plot involves a local teenage thug; a tough-nut female drug dealer who has a ‘soft spot’ (understatement) for the retirement village’s Polish handyman… there are stolen diamonds; high-level dealers and fixers; the mafia; and a somewhat disreputable ex-husband of one of club members. Quite brilliant - very easy, humorous reading, great plot – and with lovely, lovely characters. I didn’t want it to end.  
Essex Girls (Sarah Perry): The book is based on a 2018 Harriet Martineau lecture by Perry as part of the Norfolk+Norwich Festival; the book’s cover boldly states: “For Profane and Opinionated Women Everywhere”. Perry (who was born and raised in Chelmsford) mounts an exhilarating feminist defence of the Essex girl and re-examines her relationship with her much maligned home county. Perry’s publisher sums things up rather well: “In this brilliantly wide-ranging and fiercely feminist essay, she embraces her native county with both arms, celebrating the many Essex girls past and present who have refused to be quiet or know their place, and helping us to see why we should all allow our inner Essex girls out with pride”. A fascinating read – even for blokes! 

three cane whale at st george’s…

Last night, I went to the Three Cane Whale concert at St George’s, Bristol. I think this was something like the seventh time I’ve seen them perform (but who’s counting?). They’re an extraordinary, ridiculously-talented group of musicians (Alex Vann, Pete Judge and Paul Bradley) … last night, they played some 14 different musical instruments between them!
After missing out on their regular pre-Christmas concert at St George’s last year, due to the pandemic, it was lovely to have them ‘back’ last night. A lot of their music is associated with ‘place’; they’ve recorded a number of their pieces ‘on location’ – in barns and old chapels… but also on hillsides – which seemed to fit in perfectly with many people’s pandemic experiences and the need to reconnect with nature.
It proved to be a wonderful, mesmerising, uplifting evening in a perfect venue… joyous, intricate, poignant and magical music. 
An occasion to gladden the hearts and to remind us about some of the ‘good stuff’ out there in these difficult times of continuing uncertainty, political sleaze, selfishness, greed, climate crisis and the increasing gap between the haves and the have-nots.
PS: The support ‘band’ was pretty amazing too! ‘Eleven Magpies’ – a perfect foil to the ‘main act’!
Photo: ‘Three Cane Whale’ plus ‘Eleven Magpies’ at last night’s concert. 

october-november 2021 books…

Still Life (Sarah Winman): This is a JOYOUS book… I absolutely loved it. It begins in 1944, in the ruined wine cellar of Tuscan villa. A soldier and a sexagenarian art historian (she has come to Italy to salvage paintings from the ruins and to relive her memories of Florence) meet and share an extraordinary evening together… They discover they are kindred spirits and her love of truth and beauty plants a seed that will shape the soldier’s life over the next our decades. The story takes in the Tuscan hills, the piazzas of Florence and the East End of London and, in doing so, introduces us to a collection of a rather wonderful characters (and a Shakespeare-quoting parrot!). It’s a book about people; about found family and friendships; about beauty; and about art, love and the everyday unfolding of life. It’s quite, quite magical.  While reading the book, I came across a blogpost by the author in which she said this: “I, consciously, wanted to write a book that was pro-European, joyous and kind – the antithesis of the stories being told in the tabloid press and government. I wanted to write a book about togetherness and opportunity”. Absolutely!! I think you need to read it (it’s not yet out in paperback, but would make a wonderful Christmas present!).
Motherwell: A Girlhood (Deborah Orr): This memoir (published in 2020) by renowned journalist Deborah Orr – who died from breast cancer in 2019, aged 57 – about her working-class Scottish life growing up in Motherwell in the 1960s+70s and about her loving, but difficult, relationship with her parents (Win and John). Orr summarised the relationship thus: “The rules were Win’s – and the power – but John tended to be their enforcer”. It’s a raw, compelling, unsentimental book about a tense and growing unease between them… but it’s also full of compassion, warmth and humour. Orr wrote the book several years after the death of both parents and, in some ways, uses it as an attempt to make sense of her upbringing in a town dominated by Ravenscraig steelworks (where her father worked). The word “narcissism” seems to occur on every other page and the vivid portrait of her parents’ narcissism (and also of her own) is central to the struggle of their lives and relationship. I thought it was pretty brilliant.
Hangman’s Holiday (Dorothy L Sayers): I think this is my first Dorothy L Sayers’ book (I know!). This is a collection of short ‘detective’ stories (first published in 1933) featuring, among others, her well-loved character Lord Peter Wimsey and the lesser-known Mr Montague Egg. The stories are entertaining, fairly ‘light’ in nature and, understandably, pretty dated(!). They seem to follow the well-trodden guidelines for all crime fiction authors of that ‘golden age’: set the scene in some detail; follow a long line of intricate (and sometimes quite laughable) deductions; and, finally, reveal the scientific solution. Along the way, we come across the somewhat cruel depiction of policeman (of various ranks) – who all seem to talk like this: “Best be off, sir… I’ll settle this. Now, my lad…”. But, hey, at a time when the world seems fall of bad news and difficult issues, we all need some escapist crime fiction!
The Hidden Life Of Trees (Peter Wohlleben): This wouldn’t be my ‘normal’ book genre choice, but I was intrigued by the title and decided to ‘give it a go’. I’m afraid it really didn’t capture my imagination at all. Wohlleben manages a forest in the Eifel mountains in Germany. He knows an awful lot about trees and the book is full of fascinating aspects of life, death and regeneration in his woodland… but I’m afraid he’s no Attenborough or MacFarlane! I found his writing style (perhaps not helped by the translation?) very dry and even boring. Perhaps he tried to incorporate too many factual details in this 250-page book? Perhaps he should have concentrated on far fewer of them? I’m sure that there will LOTS of people who find the book wonderfully absorbing… but I’m afraid I wasn’t one of them.
And Away (Bob Mortimer): Mortimer’s an interesting bloke. He’s intelligent and funny… and I’ve absolutely loved the ‘Gone Fishing’ telly programmes (with Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse). The framework for this memoir (and in many ways of the ‘Gone Fishing’ programme) was the unnerving experience of being diagnosed with a heart condition in 2015. It’s a poignant and affirming memoir reflecting on his childhood in Middlesbrough, his shyness, his work as a solicitor and the chance encounter in a London pub when he first met an aspiring comedian by the name of Vic Reeves. I consumed this book in three days and loved it (I smiled a lot).

september-october 2021 books…

A Singular Vision: Dod Procter 1890-1972 (Alison James): I have something of a passion for UK art of the 1920s and 30s and first came across Dod Procter’s work via a book I read about one of her contemporary artists (and lifelong friend), Dame Laura Knight. Her family moved to Newlyn in 1907, after the death of her father, and there enrolled at the school of painting, aged 15. For a period in the 1920s, she was perhaps the most famous artist in Britain and her painting ‘Morning’ (of a reclining young woman) caught the public imagination and was purchased ‘for the nation’ by the Daily Mail from the Royal Academy annual show in 1927. She was elected an RA in 1932 (a rare event for women at that time). There’s a piece in the book about the RA’s Annual Banquet to which, shockingly (but at the same time perhaps not so surprising!), no women were allowed. Procter was an RA for 25 YEARS before she was allowed to attend this event! I love Procter’s paintings of women (I’m not so keen on her flower pieces)… but, sadly, it seems that ‘difficulties’ with interpreting images of children and adolescents are rooted in the contemporary sensitivities of an age have resulted in her work now being regarded as ‘unfashionable’… which is a great shame. I very much enjoyed the book.
The Sin Of Certainty (Peter Enns): My friend Phil recommended this book (quite appropriate in my on-going spiritual wilderness). For some time now, I’ve been frequently frustrated (and even a little infuriated at times!) by Christians (some writers and some friends) who seem to possess a glowing, rose-tinted faith (lucky them!) and who seem to believe that ALL Christians have the same positive faith experiences as them (and, maybe, if you haven’t, perhaps you’re not a REAL Christian – don’t get me started!). Well, let’s just say that some of us struggle on our spiritual journeys! This is something of a confessional book… about how Enns came to understand belief and faith more in terms of trust and love than in terms of facts and knowledge. At times, I found his writing style similar to that of Rob Bell. Although I found some of the book a little meandering at times (and the American way of expressing things a little irritating on occasions), I did get a lot out of it – it’s accessible, thought-provoking and, for me, relevant. A book I may need to re-visit from time to time.
The Buried Giant (Kazuo Ishiguro): This is our next Bloke’s Books book (chosen by Ed). It’s something of a fable, set in Britain’s mythical past… about Arthurian myths, about Saxons and Britons fighting over the abandoned Roman province of Britannia (complete with dragons and warring knights!). On the face of it, perhaps not an obvious book choice for old codgers like us! The book’s about faded memories (or even memories that may be false)… about a time that existed in the shadow of near-total oblivion (“this land had become cursed with a mist of forgetfulness”). Crucially, however, it’s also a portrait of marital love… it features a devoted, elderly couple who set off across a troubled land of mist and rain in the hope of finding a son they haven’t seen for years. As the book’s cover suggests: “they expect to face many hazards – some strange and other-worldly – but they cannot yet foresee how their journey will reveal to them dark and corners of their love for one another”. It’s a haunting, atmospheric, moving and unsettling novel (at times, it felt like reading a Tolkien story) that asks difficult and revealing questions about love and mortality. It’s a beautiful, unsettling and deeply affecting book (one of those that remain with you long after you’ve finished the final page).
The Picture Of Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1891). It’s a story of evil, debauchery and scandal… about Dorian Gray - a beautiful, yet corrupt, man. It was Oscar Wilde’s only novel and you sense, knowing what happened to Wilde in ‘real life’, that the main character reflected something of the author himself. I must admit that when I read the preface to the book – which merely lists a series of bold declarations about the nature of art and beauty – I feared the worse. I thought the entire book would contain a series of complex, philosophical declarations that would frankly be above my intellect (or my capacity to want to bother to even try to understand). In the event, I found it an intriguing and beautifully-written book – especially in the light of Wilde’s own subsequent experiences. The story revolves around a portrait of Dorian Gray by artist Basil Hallward – who was impressed and infatuated by Gray's beauty. Through Hallward, Gray meets Lord Henry Wotton (a thoroughly detestable individual in my view!), and he soon is enthralled by the aristocrat's self-indulgent worldview (ie. that beauty and sensual fulfilment are the only things worth pursuing in life). Under Wootton’s powerful influence, Gray acknowledges that his own beauty will fade, but expresses the desire to sell his soul, to ensure that the picture, rather than he, will age and fade. His wish is granted, and Gray pursues a disparaging life of varied amoral experiences while staying young and beautiful; all the while, his portrait ages and records every one of Gray's misdemeanours. When the book was first published (in novella format), it apparently caused considerable controversy and various parts were duly edited before the final novel was printed (these apparently involved obscuring homoerotic references, to simplify the moral message of the story). It’s clearly a book ‘of its time’ but, in addition to the book’s homophobic undertones, it’s a book about class (and class struggle), privilege, wealth, vanity, male dominance, selfishness and morality. I enjoyed the book far more than I had anticipated.
Not The End Of the World (Kate Atkinson): I love Kate Atkinson’s writing. This book of twelve short stories (first published in 2002) is described on the book’s cover as “playful and profound”… and I think that’s a very good description. The individual stories frequently have some passing reference to characters or situations described in the other stories. I read half of the book on a train journey and found them perfect travelling companions… funny, quirky and quite compelling. I particularly loved the Charlene and Trudi characters (obsessively making lists while “bombs explode softly in the streets outside”) in the first and final stories.

the french dispatch…

Moira and I went to the Watershed this afternoon to see Wes Anderson’s film “The French Dispatch” – a tribute to the New Yorker magazine. It was the first time we’d been to the cinema together since the start of the pandemic (and also only my second visit to the cinema in 19 months).
I absolutely love Wes Anderson films – they’re always a visual delight… and wonderfully inventive, silly, hilarious and hugely entertaining.
This film did not disappoint! I loved it.
It really was an homage to a legendary list of writers and (in the words of The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw) “a famed insistence on standards, collegiate office culture, distinctive cartoons and typographic layout, metropolitan sophistication targeted at a general American readership”. Frankly, I’d never heard of the magazine, but I warmed to it immediately (and, frankly, it didn’t matter at all anyway).
The film is ridiculously FULL of famous actors… I can imagine actors queuing up just to be considered for any Anderson film.
Visually, I love Anderson’s symmetrical, front-on, backdrop facades and also his colour blends (these also included a number of black+white scenes and also some clever, amusing animation). Half way through the film, I realised that I’d taken the brilliant ‘background music’ completely for granted and so, in the film’s latter stages, I tried my best to focus on it. It really is very beautifully done. So impressively simple and yet so important.
It was lovely to be back in the cinema again and, frankly, if I’d had a free choice of film to watch, it would have been something by Anderson.
I loved it… and it made very happy. 

karine polwart in concert…

I went to see Karine Polwart in concert at St George’s tonight – my first concert for nearly two years. I first saw her at Greenbelt in 2005 and, apparently (according to my blog – which, essentially, I only keep as a memory-jogger!), have now seen her seven times.
It proved to be another wonderful evening. The last time I saw her was in 2018 and at that time I wrote: “Powerful, intelligent, thought-provoking, political, tender, poignant music at its very best. She’s an eloquent poet (and she’s frequently funny too). She’s a person who reminds you that small voices are important. She’s an inspiration.
At this time when so many of us are disenchanted by politics and what’s happening in the world, last night was a wonderful reminder that there ARE decent, inspiring people who demand to be heard.  
May it be so”.
I absolutely love her music and have come to realise over the years that, for me, Polwart is probably second only to Joni Mitchell in my list of favourite singer/songwriters. The evening was a mixture of new and old songs… and I found the older, familiar ones, in particular, very poignant (memory-joggers) and I even found myself feeling quite emotional at times (but, hey, that’s probably just me in my old age!).
The audience clearly loved her and, hopefully, she’ll be back in Bristol again very soon.
PS: The only negative aspect of the evening was that Iris wasn’t able to attend (it would have been her first ‘real’ concert); she’d had her first Covid jab the day before and spent today feeling on the verge of being physically sick and therefore, very reluctantly, decided she couldn’t leave home. Hopefully, we’ll be able to sort out another concert in the foreseeable future.
I was particularly sad about Iris missing the concert because I sense that Polwart – having studied politics and philosophy at university and being a strong advocate for women, the environment, climate change and the like – represents a potential role model for Iris… and we all need good role models in life!
Photo: Karine Polwart in concert tonight at St George’s. 

anthropcene: the human epoch + a short film about ice…

I went to the Watershed for the first time in 18 months (I know)!
The first film (2018, directed by Nicholas de Pencier, Jennifer Baichwal and Edward Burtynsky) focused on how human activities have made significant lasting and potentially irreversible changes to the Earth… from the devastated Great Barrier Reef in Australia, to the concrete seawalls that cover 60 percent of mainland China's coast, to the biggest terrestrial machines ever built in Germany, to psychedelic potash mines in Russia's Ural Mountains, to surreal lithium evaporation ponds in the Atacama Desert. From the harsh industrial landscapes of Siberia, to the towering white mountains of marble in Carrara, Italy, to the uneven plastic peaks of Dandora Landfill in Kenya, watch the aggressive extraction of the planet’s resources in astonishing scale and devastating beauty. Six continents and stunning (and sometimes quite chilling) images chronicling the catastrophic path travelled by our species over the last century.
Following 10 years of research, the Anthropocene Working Group now argue that we are now in a new geologic phase (the Anthropocene epoch) - a time when humans now change the Earth (in significant lasting and potentially irreversible ways) more than all the planet’s natural processes combined.
My gut feeling was that perhaps the film could have been broken down somewhat differently in terms of subject matter/’chapters’ but, nevertheless, it’s an impressive and powerful film.
The other film (directed by Hannah+Felix’s friend Adam Laity) was rather lovely – beautiful (and frequently devastating) images of fragile landscapes set alongside poetry and literary extracts.
PS: I have to say that I’d been feeling somewhat apprehensive about returning to my regular cinema venue as we begin to emerge from the pandemic (fingers crossed). The Watershed people had put in place a number of sensible safety measures... and these all worked well – apart from the people in the audience who weren’t wearing face-masks (“We will continue to expect everyone to wear a face covering whilst in the cinemas”). There were only some 25 people in the audience but at least half-a-dozen were mask-less. It made me feel very uncomfortable… and, yes, a bit vulnerable.

august-september 2021 books…

Many Different Kinds Of Love (Michael Rosen): Rosen was ‘feeling unwell’ towards the end of March 2020… struggling to breathe. He was subsequently admitted to hospital, suffering from coronavirus. He ended up spending months on the wards – 6 weeks in an induced coma and many more weeks of rehab and recovery as the NHS saved his life. This is a beautiful, often harrowing, book of Rosen’s prose poems from that time… about love, life and the NHS. It underlines the severity of the virus (which obviously accounted for many lives), captures his struggles, the support from his amazing wife and family and, perhaps most of all, the moving coronavirus diaries of his nurses and doctors written when he was in his coma… personal messages from his nurses. Here’s just a brief extract from one of them (chosen at random) to give you a flavour: “Hi Michael. My name is Lizzie and I am your helper tonight. I’m normally a physio working in outpatients but I’m currently helping out in ITU during the Covid pandemic. I looked after you on one of your first nights, so it’s so lovely to see how far you’ve come… Thank you for all the lovely books and poems you have gifted us, ‘We’re Going On A Bear Hunt’ is one of my favourite childhood books! We have also laminated the poem you did for the NHS anniversary which is by your bed…”. I spent much of the first part of the book – which included these diary extracts – with tears in my eyes. Moving. Beautiful. A powerful celebration of the power of community and the importance of kindness in dark times.
The Old Man And The Sea (Ernest Hemingway): I read this book (first published in 1952) after watching a TV documentary about the author – I decided that I really SHOULD have read more Hemingway (this is just my third book of his). He writes beautifully. This is just a short novel (some 97 pages), but something of an acclaimed ‘masterwork’. It tells the story of an old Cuban fisherman; life has rather worn him down and yet he still dreams. Lately, the old man has endured 84 days without a catch (and much ridicule among his fellow fishermen)… but, today, will be his day. He eventually, single-handedly, catches an enormous fish (‘18ft from nose to tail’) but, in bringing home his trophy (tied to the side of his old skiff) numerous sharks attack and feast of the fish’s flesh – leaving him with just the skeleton of his ‘catch’ to bear witness to his exploits. He ends up winning the battle, but losing the prize. Poignant, powerful and profound.
All For Nothing (Walter Kempowski): This was our previous Storysmith bookgroup book. It’s set in rural East Prussia at the beginning of 1945. The Russian army is advancing and refugees are fleeing the occupied territories in their thousands – in cars and carts and on foot. It focuses (at least at the start) on life in the run-down grandeur of the manor house where the wealthy von Globig family seals itself off from the world and make no preparations to leave until a decision to harbour a stranger for the night begins their undoing. It took me a little time to get into this book (perhaps 80 pages or so?), but I then became completely captivated by the struggle for survival. People, with next to nothing, needing to ‘up sticks’ at a moment’s notice and join the endless lines of others participating in a tragic exodus. Reading the book at a time when similar events are being enacted in Afghanistan RIGHT NOW as people try to flee from the Taliban ‘takeover’ of that country made the events described in the book even more powerful and pertinent. This, Kempowski’s last novel (first published in 2006, with Anthea Bell’s excellent translation published in 2015), is a beautiful, forgiving, compassionate book which manages to look beyond the futile divisions people make between themselves (whether they be Jew, Nazi, peasant, aristocrat, Pole or foreigner) – whether they be victims or perpetrators. A brilliant book.
Dear Bill (Richard Ingram+John Wells): In the course of moving house, my bedside pile of ‘to read’ books has been secreted into one of several cardboard boxes… unfortunately, it appears that it’s going to take some time for me to track them down! In the meantime, I came across this book (first published in 1980 in ‘Private Eye’) of fictitious “collected letters of Denis Thatcher” to his golfing friend and decided to re-read them. They are very, very funny… but also a stark reminder of those depressing days when Denis’s wife ruled the land. Sadly, not a lot has changed over the past 40 plus years!
The Hare With Amber Eyes (Edmund De Waal): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (based on a biography theme). Essentially, it tells of master potter De Waal’s researches about how he came to inherit a collection of 264 netsuke (miniature sculptures originating in 17th century Japan in fine-grained wood or ivory to “reward touch and endure wear”) from his great-uncle Iggie. It’s a fascinating and elegant book that traces the netsuke’s journey through generations of De Waal’s remarkable family from Odessa to Paris in the 1870s, from occupied Vienna to Tokyo… and to London. The story (certainly for the early part of the book) drips outrageous wealth, privilege, influence and ‘Jewishness’ (barely does a page go by without some reference to his Jewish ancestry). But, by the end of the book, De Waal acknowledges that he no longer knew quite what the book was about – his family or memory or himself… or “still a book about small Japanese things”. It’s an absolutely fascinating and brilliantly researched book (and De Waal writes quite beautifully). Although, at times, I found myself struggling to pick my way through its complex trail - it took me nearly three weeks to read (a long time for me, these days) – there were also times when I was transfixed by the horror of what the family had to endure from the end of the 1930s, right through to beyond the end of WW2 (of course, I knew about the atrocious treatment of Jews under the German (and Austrian) Reich and yet, reading accounts of what happened to De Waal’s family, brought home the true terror of man’s potential inhumanity towards his fellow man. In the end, De Waal won me over. It’ll be interesting what my bookgroup makes of it all.

moving reflections…

I’m sitting on the balcony reading my book, a glass of white wine (I know!) in my hand, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon and I think to myself: how lucky am I?! (A Louis Armstrong song comes to mind!).

It’s just over a week since we moved to the city centre and although it’s been stressful at times (I wouldn’t want to repeat it any time soon!), we’ve been remarkably fortunate that everything has worked out pretty well.
Living in the heart of the city comes with both positives and negatives (and we knew that before we even contemplated moving).

On the negative side: it’s much noisier and I’ve become almost blasé about hearing people making their way home at 3am – and always, it seems, with the volume turned ‘up’… laughing, arguing, shouting or, in one case, growling (a man attempting to perfect his loud growls in the middle of the night – something I personally don’t recall ever doing!). There seems to be strong desire for some motorbikers (always male) to ‘rev up’ furiously for absolutely no reason other than trying to attract people’s stares. Our apartment’s development (there are some 165 units scattered around the site) seems sadly lacking when it comes to recycling – it almost feels as if we’ve slipped back 20 years: there is a line of big rubbish bins in basement, but just differentiated into ‘paper+cardboard’ (mixed) and ‘everything else’… allowance for the recycling of plastic, glass, or tins (I accept that food waste might also be difficult, but absolutely nothing on that front either). I think we might be challenging this state of affairs over the coming weeks! And, of course, we also know we’ll miss our local Southville community and all the independent shops and businesses (but hey, they’re less than 30 minutes away).

But on the positive side, we have the harbour a four minute walk away from our front door; we have access to buses to ‘everywhere’ (with bus stops all within a 5 minute walk); we’re in easy walking access to so many places (Old Vic, RWA, Temple Meads station, Royal Fort Gardens, Queen Square, Watershed, St George’s, Cathedral, College Green, Saint Stephen’s church, Brandon Hill). I love waking up in the very centre of the city and also walking out of the front door and feeling ‘in the heart of the action’ (me? action?!).

Downsizing has been pretty challenging (and continues to be so). Friends, who have also recently moved, have told us that, even though we THOUGHT we’d downsized, we’ll have to continue the process once we’ve moved (and they’re SO right!). Our kitchen at Mount Pleasant Terrace worked brilliantly and so adapting to our ‘new’, smaller version is going to be very difficult (and will take some time to get it ‘right’). Both of our bedrooms are currently stacked around the perimeter with a multitude of large plastic boxes… the living room still has something like 37 boxes of books awaiting a home (ie. but we need to build shelving first!). There are DOZENS of pictures we ‘need’ to get hung. There are walls to re-decorate. Curtains/blinds to be hung. There are electrical alterations needed. There’s a new carpet to be ordered… oh, and a new dining table and armchairs… and additional wardrobe space. I could go on… and on.

In the meantime, we’re constantly wondering where we put things… Which unopened box? Which corner of what cupboard?
But that’s fine… we knew it would be like that. So, when it all gets a little too much, we simply wander out on to the balcony with a glass of wine and turn our backs on the chaos… and also acknowledge how lucky we are to have what we have (and each other).
Photo: view from the balcony looking at the development’s garden area (in the distance). 

goodbye arts trail at number40…

One of the saddest aspects of moving house is the realisation that we’ve held our last SouthBank Arts Trail at number40. We’ve opened up our studio on every arts trail weekend from 2004-2018 (we ‘missed’ the very first one in May 2003, which took place the day we put in an offer for the house!).
Over the years, Moira and I have welcomed the following 40 exhibiting artists (which somehow feels absolutely appropriate for number40!): Paul Brown, Wendy Calder, Jen Orme, Helen Brayshaw, Sharon Bishop, Dave Morgan-Davies, Chitra Merchant, Philippa Royle, Angela Saxbee, Hannah Hickman, Sarah Duncan, Anna Francis, Kay Morgan, Alexandra Higlett, Georgina Hounsome, Lucy Roberts, Tamsie Beith, Ruth Ander, Fay-Darling Peters, Maggie Smith, Martin Lintern, Damian Daly, Lucie Sheridan, Becky Burling, Melanie Wickham, Tessa McDermott, Shirley Smith, Deb Steele, Sally Medlicott, Ian Adams, Heather Newport, Chris Heaton, Nik Kalinowski, Jeremy Smith, Iain Ferns, the Plate-Painting-Lady (who joined us at the eleventh hour for one of our exhibitions, but we can’t remember her name!) plus, of course, the lovely Ruth Broadway, Hannah Broadway, Stuart Low and Felix Hayes.
It proved to be a very popular arts trail venue – so much so that we ended up welcoming over 700 people into our basement over an Arts Trail weekend!
Huge thanks to all those who contributed or visited over the years.
Lots of special memories.
Lots of very good times with lots of very good friends. x
Photos: These are just a very FEW of the photographs taken over the years… fascinating to see the broad scope of work included and also being reminded that our grandchildren have effectively ‘grown up’ over the course of our arts trail involvement!

july-august 2021 books...

Tales From Lindford (Catherine Fox): This is the fourth Catherine Fox book I’ve read over the past six years or so (Moira originally introduced me to her stuff). As with the previous books, it’s based in the fictional diocese of Lindchester and, once again, follows some of its beloved characters. It was originally written in real time (more or less) in the form of a weekly blog in the midst of the pandemic and captures the huge difficulties and challenges of 2020… starting with everyone celebrating the New Year with parties and resolutions and with “none of them aware of the trials and tribulations the coming months will bring – not least the horseman of the apocalypse who has set out quietly, with barely a jingle of harness, in a distance province of China”. Fox is a wonderful writer and she manages to convey the uncertainties of the incredibly challenging year with heart, humour and insight… as well as providing us with a compelling, powerful reminder of what we’ve all been through (and are still going through!) Ridiculously perhaps, she has the ability to make you laugh and cry, but also leave you with hope and a reminder of the goodness of people, even in the darkest times. I also love her political ‘digs’, such as this: “The Rule of Six kicks in this Monday. Gatherings of more than six (including babies and children) are banned, with the exception of schools and workplaces. Oh, and grouse shooting. If I were making all this up, I wouldn’t have risked that last detail, for fear my readers would never swallow such a clunky bit of social satire. But there we are.” Brilliant!
Just Ignore Him (Alan Davies): This is a memoir in which comedian/actor Davies confronts his past. It’s a difficult, brave but compelling read – with tender recollections of his mother (who died from leukaemia when he just six); about how he and his siblings weren’t told about her death (and decisions taken by the family not even to tell her that she was dying) but, even brutally, how Davies was sexually-abused (from when he was 8 until he was 13) by his domineering, controlling father (and sworn to secrecy). Although it contains patches of black-humour, it’s a difficult, painful read (although I easily read it within 3 days). Davies is at pains to emphasise that he didn’t write the book for himself as an ‘exercise in healing’… instead, for me, I think the very final paragraph of the last chapter sums up why I think you should read the book: “Above all, I have set out to tell you the things you don’t know about me, in the hope that one day, perhaps, you will feel able to tell someone what they don’t know about you.”
Instructions For A Heatwave (Maggie O’Farrell): I first read this book in 2013. I’ve read three O’Farrell books in total and loved each one of them. In her note at the end of the book, she refers to how the book came about and makes reference to the heatwave summer of 1976 (which is very significant for me as daughter Ru was born in the spring of that year!). She talks about how the heatwave had played an “important role in Britain’s collective memory of itself”… and it struck me that people would almost certainly be referring to the pandemic year of 2020 in a similar way in due course… AND I re-read it this year in a heatwave!! The book tells of a retired father of a complicated Irish family, living in London, who mysteriously disappears one morning… and follows his wife’s and his grown-up children’s actions to track him down. I was somewhat shocked at just how little of the book’s detail I’d retained (I recalled the basic premise, but the characters were far more real this time). I really enjoyed the book (even more so than last time); I love O’Farrell’s writing style, her characters and her ability to tell a good story.
Started Early, Took My Dog (Kate Atkinson): This (published in 2010) represents my last book to complete Atkinson’s excellent ‘Jackson Bride’ series (which, of course, I read slightly out of order!). Perhaps (even) darker than the other books in series… it deals with the bleak world of ‘lost’ women (and children – Madeleine McCann springs to mind); with the greed and power of men; with prostitutes; with ‘druggies’; and with thieves. Semi-retired private investigator Brodie is asked to try to track down the birth parents of a woman now living in New Zealand but, in the process (and in typical Atkinson fashion) his task is frequently overtaken by events - from both the present day and those from long-buried crimes of the 1970s – affecting the other ‘main players’ in the story. Once again (despite the bleakness of the plot), I found Atkinson’s dialogue and rhetorical whimsy wonderfully funny, poignant and appealing.    
Love (Roddy Doyle): This novel starts with two men meeting up in a Dublin restaurant. They’re old friends from schooldays (they’re now in their late 50s or early 60s perhaps); they’re both married and with grown-up children; their lives seem to have taken quite similar paths (albeit that one of them now lives in England). They start drinking… two pints turns to three, then five, then… as they set out on a journey to revisit the haunts of their youth. I like Roddy Doyle’s writing (his gift for dialogue is exceptional), but after 250 pages of this 300+ page book, I got very close to giving up in frustration! It was SO slow and SO repetitive! At times it felt like reading extracts from those old Ronnie Corbett sketches of shaggy dog stories – where Corbett was constantly finding himself waylaid as he meandered down completely irrelevant and obscure pathways! One of the men talked far more than the other (the quieter one becoming annoyed and frustrated in the process – because HE had important stuff to say too). The f-word is probably used twenty times on every single page (and probably more than that as the beer consumption mounts)… but THEN there’s the big reveal (*no spoilers* - so no details) and, it’s then, that the friendship’s true worth comes to the fore. It’s a very powerful ending – both thought-provoking and, for me, memory-provoking. I just wish that perhaps 100 pages of dialogue could have been omitted. 

june-july 2021 books…

When Will There Be Good News? (Kate Atkinson): My Atkinson reading festival continues! This is the third book in the ‘Jackson Brodie’ crime fiction series (although not a detective novel in the formal sense) and, once again, I absolutely loved it. Intelligent, funny, wonderful characters and enthralling plot. A six-year-old girl witnesses an appalling crime; 30 years later the man convicted of the crime is released from prison… I don’t want to spoil things for you, so I’ll leave it there. Having persuaded my Storysmith bookgroup to opt for Atkinson’s ‘Big Sky’ Brodie tale (a book I first read in January this year) for its next book (based on a ‘crime’ theme), I now need to start re-reading it in preparation for our next ‘session’.
Bloomsbury: A House Of Lions (Leon Edel): This book provides a detailed and fascinating portrait of the nine key individuals who comprised the ‘Bloomsbury Group’, namely: Maynard Keynes, Leonard Woolf, Virginia Woolf, Lytton Strachey, Clive Bell, Desmond McCarthy, Roger Fry, Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant. American author Edel is clearly a very gifted biographer and the book is extensively researched (and in fact he’d previously met a number of the principle players or their relatives and published the book in 1979, when he himself was 72). At times, I felt that Edel was simply ‘showing off’ (too excessively for my taste) his extensive knowledge of his subject. I thought that he was overly condescending towards the privileged life of Cambridge upper-class undergraduates (all male, of course!) in the early years of the 20^th century and that he adopted a rather condescending view of women in general (even including Virginia Woolf and Vanessa Bell to some extent). Although I had previously read a number of books about Bloomsbury, this book provided fascinating additional background. An excellent book.  
Vanessa Bell: Portrait Of The Bloomsbury Artist (Frances Spalding): I absolutely loved this excellent biography (first published in 1983 and re-published in 2016). Yes, I appreciate that I’ve probably become excessively absorbed in Bloomsbury-related stuff over recent years (especially reading two lengthy, detailed volumes in the past month!), but it’s been a compelling journey. I’d been particularly drawn to the paintings by Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant and this book provided fascinating insights into the work and lives of both of them (and the Bloomsbury group). Bell became something of a mother figure for the whole group and a catalyst for much of what the group came to represent. She walked an emotional tightrope in her relationships with her husband (Clive Bell), ex-lover (Roger Fry) and lover (Duncan Grant) and enjoyed a bohemian lifestyle of sexual freedom, fierce independence and honesty. As a painter, Bell was as radical as her sister Virginia Woolf the writer (Woolf described Bell as ‘the Saint’ for her practical sense of duty and organisation). The book has been compiled from letters and diaries (without letters, how much would have been lost!). It’s full of amusing and intriguing details: for instance, she wasn’t particularly political (although more left-wing than her husband)… and once asked the man sitting next to her at dinner if he was interested in politics… the man in question was prime minister Asquith(!); in 1925, after the lease on their Charleston house had been renewed, she had a studio added (“compared with the domestic proportions elsewhere in the house, this huge vaulted room offers both expanse and haven-like peace”)… the builder’s estimate was £250! A wonderful, intriguing biography.
The Leopard (Tomasi Di Lampedusa): The writer (1896-1957) was the last Prince of Lampedusa and the novel was published posthumously in 1958. It’s set in the spring of 1860 at a time when Fabrizio, Prince of Salina, still ruled over Sicily - albeit in “decadent and impoverished aristocracy, deaf to the upheavals of the world” (as I’ve seen one reviewer describe things)… but then Garibaldi landed in Sicily and the Prince had to decide whether to resist the forces of change or come to terms with them. It’s a renowned, highly-praised book with an impressive sense of long gone glory and an elegance of language but, I’m afraid, I really struggled to come to terms with it. Apparently, there’s a 1963 film of the book and perhaps, if I saw it, it might make me want to re-read the book. Not one of my favourite books of the year. Sorry.
Broken Greek (Pete Paphides): Moira recommended this (published in 2020). I’d never heard of the writer (apparently he’s had a career in music journalism… and he’s also married to Caitlin Moran). Although he’s 20 years younger than me, we share the fact that we both grew up in Birmingham. His parents moved from Cyprus to Brum in the 1960s in the hope of a better life (with no money and very little English) and opened a fish-and-chip shop in Acocks Green. Shy and introverted, Paphides stopped speaking from age 4 to 7, but he ended up ‘discovering’ pop music (‘Top of the Pops’, ‘Dial-a-Disc’) – which provided him with the safety net he needed to protect him from the tensions of his home life. It’s a long book (582 pages!)… which, in fact, only covers his life up to the age of 13 (so there might be more to come?). Paphides was (and probably still is) passionate about music and, even from an early age, spent all his pocket money on records. He’s a natural story-teller and I found his recollections of Brum (complete with doing an entire circuit of the number 11 bus route – just like my grandmother used to do!) and the trials and tribulations of growing up absolutely captivating. For me, it contained just a little too many musical insights and details (fascinating though they were), but this is a really very lovely book: tender, funny and overflowing in musical trivia and knowledge. I highly recommend it.
PS: I also re-read Kate Atkinson's 'Big Sky' this month (it's our Storysmith bookgroup's latest book).

Time for change…

Yesterday, the LibDems’ candidate, Sarah Green, won the Chesham+Amersham by-election by a staggering 8,000 votes (overturning a majority of 16,000 at the last election). The Greens were third, behind the Tories, and the Labour Party a disastrous fourth with a paltry 622 votes.
I know Chesham and Amersham from my days when I lived and worked in Buckinghamshire/Oxfordshire. It was seen as a Tory political stronghold… a seat that would ‘always be Tory’.
 
Well, I wrote the following ‘notes’ in my diary just over a week ago…
Despite their frequently appalling mismanagement of the Covid crisis, the UK government is still riding high in the opinion polls. At a time when the Opposition should be ‘making hay’ against a weak Tory government, its message to the electorate is frequently muddled and incoherent. Frankly, as a non-Tory voter, I despair at the prospect of yet another Conservative government (eleven consecutive years and still counting) but, as things stand, that’s what will happen.
Sadly, our political system does not work. Democracy is something of a farce. As things stand, given our ridiculous first-past-the-post electoral process (and where I happen to live), my vote doesn’t count. And, of course, any Party in power certainly won’t want to change a system that ‘works for them’!
 
Labour Party leader, Kier Starmer has come in for a lot of criticism (rightly in my view). As things stand, the pattern of recent years will simply be repeated: Labour loses the election; Labour elects a new leader… then Labour loses the election; Labour elects a new leader…
Something HAS to change.
 
Here in the UK, we’re some three years away from the next general election. In my view, ALL the opposition parties need to come together and form some sort of political alliance (a Rainbow Alliance?). There are lots of intelligent, gifted politicians (of all parties) who have the experience and desire to change things for the ‘common good’, but their voices are lost behind Political Party smokescreens. They count for nothing.
 
In my view, with the next general election taking place in 2024, all opposition parties need to agree that they won’t stand against each other at the next election. Drastic times call for drastic measures… the key objective needs to be to overturn (or at least reduce) the Tory’s current hold on power. It won’t be easy (understatement!), but the opposition parties need to agree which of them fights which seat in 2024 – in other words, a Tory candidate against ONE single opposition party candidate. Such arrangements will be incredibly difficult… local party structures will have to be severely compromised (but it will help maximise resources where they’ll produce most benefit). Crucially, the vital thing is that such compromises will take a little time to agree and organise and so this work needs to be started IMMEDIATELY.
As an important, tangent demonstration of this intent, Kier Starmer should IMMEDIATELY re-model his entire Shadow Cabinet – to incorporate MPs from the LibDems, Greens, SNPs, Plaid Cymru etc alongside Labour members.
But, hey, what do I know?
Photo: image from SkyNews.