blitz…

I went along to the Watershed again yesterday to see Steve McQueen’s film about the blitz bombing on London in 1940, featuring the always excellent Saoirse Ronan (Rita - ridiculously beautifully-dressed throughout despite all the bombing and destruction!) as the single mother living with her father (rather wonderfully played by Paul Weller!). Her bi-racial son (played by Elliott Heffernan) is evacuated, only to run away in a perilous bid to find her (Rita’s Grenadian partner was harassed by racists and deported).

The film deals with some somewhat unexplored issues: the casually racist attitude to people of colour by British wartime authorities; and ditto their attitudes towards the working class in London’s East End. Of course, there are also the predictable (but impressive) scenes of destruction and suffering, blackouts and shelters, women factory workers and ARP wardens… and, of course, plenty of ‘Blitz spirit’.
Lots of impressive stuff but, for me, I have to say that I found the film a little disappointing (especially given it was written, produced and directed by McQueen). I’d even say it frequently felt somewhat contrived and artificial. A film to watch on the telly on a drab Sunday afternoon maybe but, from my perspective, nothing more. Sorry.

october/november 2024 books…

The Sunshine Corpse (Max Murray): Another of my recent Penguin Crime books from our local Oxfam Bookshop (first published in 1954). A man is found dead in a Florida fruit stall. He was an unpopular man and there are a number of people with good reasons for wishing him dead. One of the people who bore him a grudge is subsequently found dead in the river… the local Sheriff has a difficult case on his hands. The novel is cleverly conceived and yet it left me thinking that the author was just trying to be TOO clever (by half!). The story ends with a flood of conflicting confessions and accusations… which eventually sort themselves out amid much bad feeling. Ultimately disappointing.
The British Museum Is Falling Down (David Lodge): It’s been ages since I read a David Lodge book (my book blog tells me it was 14 years ago!). At the heart of this novel (first published in 1961) is the library at the British Museum where the main character (a post-graduate student working on his thesis with a young wife young children) works away – although frequently being pre-occupied or distracted by other matters. His home life seems dominated by the prospect of his wife being perpetually pregnant or of unstinting abstinence (while working through all the permitted methods of birth control allowed by the Catholic Church)… or about the need for more sex or better-quality sex! It’s typical Lodge – always entertaining and amusing but also, at times, bordering on farce (which isn’t exactly my cup of tea).
Mother Country (Jeremy Harding): I picked up this memoir from the £4 Bookshop (first published in 2006). It’s essentially a story about two mothers. Harding was born in 1952 (in London) and, when he was a child, his adoptive mother told him he’ been adopted. As he got older, he wondered about the identity of his biological parents and eventually embarked on a quest to find them… but also learn more about his adoptive parents (by this time his adoptive father had died and mother was in a home struggling with dementia) and how little he knew about them. It’s an account of his often difficult and frustrating journey into his past and the slipperiness of memory. It’s a compelling story set within the social fabric of Britain in the 1950s and 60s.
Down By The River (Edna O’Brien): O’Brien died earlier this year (aged 93). I’ve always found her a compelling, fascinating writer. This novel, published in 1996 is an unsparing story of 14 year-old girl who becomes pregnant by her father. Her mother had died a premature and painful death and the girl has nowhere to turn and is unable to tell anyone of her situation (she also tries to drown herself). A neighbour offers to help her and arranges for them to travel to England where she can get a legal abortion… but she is pressured to return before it can take place. Back home, she faces the wrath of opponents of abortion and sympathetic support from liberals. The weeks go by, amid agony and uncertainty before nature provides an answer in its own grim fashion. Apparently, the novel is loosely based on a real 1992 case of a 14-year-old Irish girl, said to have been a rape victim, whose struggles with the legal system caused a nationwide examination of conscience in Ireland. I found it a completely enthralling, albeit hard-hitting and disturbing, story… beautifully written.
Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit (Jeanette Winterson): This book (first published in 1985) tells the story of Jeanette - adopted and brought up by her mother as one of God's chosen people (her mother was a maniacal Pentecostal Christian… something of an understatement!). Keen and passionate, Jeanette seems destined for life as a missionary, but then she falls for one of her converts. At sixteen, Jeanette decides to leave the church, her home and her family, for the young woman she loves. It’s a semi-autobiographical novel and based on Winterson's life growing up in Accrington, Lancashire. It’s beautifully-written, innovative, hard-hitting, tender and, frequently, wonderfully funny. I really enjoyed it.

steve knightley at the beacon lantern…

I first saw Steve Knightley/Show of Hands more than 20 years ago. I certainly remember seeing him with my brother at the Bromyard Folk Festival in 2004 when he was appearing with Phil Beer in their ‘Show of Hands’ guise. Together, they are one of the leading forces in British folk (Peter Gabriel has described them as “one of the great English bands”). Knightley has aged at about the same rate as me (he’s 5 years younger!) – but he can still write songs, play lots of instruments and sing, superbly (unlike moi!).
Last night, he performed solo and was absolutely excellent. His songs frequently talk about the hardships and realities of West Country life – the sadness and the struggles; the declining industries; the broken lives; and the ordinary people – but also about love, families and the beauty of the natural world. He’s a wonderful story-teller and he’s a very funny man.
It was a really brilliant evening – played to a virtually full-house in the Lantern Hall… and with an audience of fans who knew most of his songs and didn’t hold back whenever they were encouraged to join in (which happened frequently!).
On a really difficult day (ie. trying to cope with the Trump vote!), it somehow restored my faith in humanity and decency.
Photo: Steve Knightley performing last night.

small things like these…

I went to the Watershed again this afternoon (although I seem to have gone to the cinema far less during 2024), this time to see an interpretation of Claire Keegan’s book ‘Small Things Like These’ – adapted by Eileen Walsh and directed by Tim Mielants. Keegan is one of my very favourite authors and I read this novella almost two years ago (I’ve read six of her books to date). It was certainly in my top five books of 2023. Quite brilliant.
Cillian Murphy plays the part of Bill Furlong (quite wonderfully) - born out of wedlock, born into shame, but now has a home and a family and a job hauling truckloads of coal around town in County Wexford. Life is tough, but bearable. The church is a dominant force within the town and, in due course, his daughters will be receiving their education courtesy of the church.
It’s a tale of hardship, self-sacrifice and decency.
Delivering coal to the church laundry (one of Ireland’s notorious Magdalene Laundries: the church’s homes for unwed mothers who were made to work in an atmosphere of wretchedness and shame and had their babies taken away and sold to foster parents), he walks straight in and sees the terrified girls for himself. He realises that the scene probably resembles his own poor unmarried mother’s experience (she was fortunate to have been taken in by a wealthy local woman). The church sister is aware that Bill is witness to scenes that could damage her/the church, but she has his daughters’ educational future in her hands…
Like the book, the film is a powerful, haunting and sobering depiction of the utterly shameful time for the Catholic Church and all those who suffered through its actions.
I urge you to see this excellent film (AND, particularly, read Keegan’s brilliantly impressive novella).
PS: Today was the Watershed’s first screening of the film and it had originally been scheduled to be shown in the small/tiny Cinema 2. Fortunately, the powers-that-be recognised that advanced ticket sales were such as to require the screening to be relocated in Cinema 1 (which was virtually a capacity audience this afternoon). Well done them!

october 2024 books…

Duncan Grant+The Bloomsbury Group (Douglas Blair Turnbaugh): For some time now, I’ve been fascinated by the artists and work that have come out of the Bloomsbury Group/Charleston – particularly Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant (1885-1978). Turnbaugh’s book (published in 1987) provides not so much an analysis of his art, but something of his life and relationships (and there were SEVERAL – involving both sexes but, more often than not, men). Grant was a talented painter and designer of textiles, pottery, theatre sets, and costumes. He became involved in the Bloomsbury Group, where he made many great friends including Vanessa Bell. He would eventually live with Bell (though she was a married woman), who became pregnant with his child in 1918. Following the birth, their relationship was mainly domestic and creative, but they continued to live together for more than 40 years (mainly at Charleston). They often painted in the same studio together, praising and critiquing each other's work. Turnhaugh knew Grant and spent many hours interviewing him (and with Grant’s friend Paul Roche) – with Grant providing a wealth of personal stories (many of which are included in the book). As can be gathered from this eulogy at his funeral, Grant was clearly a well-loved man: “an artist, generous and whole-hearted in his response to all that could engage with his genius, richly endowed to express his many-splendoured vision. As we call to mind his art, we remember also his gift for making and keeping friends, suffusing his own life and theirs with a spontaneous, unselfconscious delight in all things of man’s making or imagining…”. A fascinating book.
The Empusium (Olga Tokarczuk): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book. I’d previously read (and greatly enjoyed) her “Drive Your Plow Over The Bones Of The Dead” book 5 years ago (plus a stage performance at the Bristol Old Vic last year). This book is set in September 1913 and it’s described as a ‘Health Resort Horror Story’. A young Pole suffering from tuberculosis arrives at a ‘Guesthouse for Gentlemen’, a health resort in the Silesian mountains. Every evening the residents gather to imbibe the hallucinogenic local liqueur and debate the great issues of the day… but, meanwhile, disturbing things are happening in the guesthouse and the surrounding hills… someone (or something) seems to be watching. In the words of the book’s cover: “Little does the newcomer realise, as he tries to unravel both the truths within himself and the mystery of the sinister forces beyond, that they have already chosen their next target”. I found it a beautifully-crafted, haunting and disturbing book. It’s not particularly long (326 pages), but I thought that the first 200 or so pages were just too pedestrian (a ‘slow reveal’ taken a bit too far, in my view). However, all becomes clear(er!) as the book comes a gripping conclusion. Did I enjoy it? Well, I found its pace somewhat frustratingly slow at times but, ultimately, a compelling book.
The Towers Of Trebizond (Rose Macaulay): This is our next Blokes book (first published in 1956). It’s an absurd novel (although much of it reads like a travel journal) involving three main characters – Aunt Dot, her niece Laurie (who’s also the narrator) and Father Chantry (note: a camel also plays a starring role!) – who set out on an expedition to Turkey (and beyond) to “explore the possibility of establishing a High Anglican mission there”. On the way, they meet various characters (magicians, young British travel writers, lovers etc). According to Wikipedia, the book is partly autobiographical (deciding which parts could be an amusing task). It’s a strange, and yet, captivating book – a mixture of fantasy, high comedy, plus ‘digs’ about love, sex, politics, life, class, religion and church buildings. There are LOTS of amusing/cutting references to the Anglican church and belief generally (which I found myself agreeing with on numerous occasions!)… as well as some depressing reminders (especially given the current horrors taking place in Israel/Palestine) of Britain’s historical role in the Middle East. But, thankfully, lots of high farce along the way – including Laurie purchasing an ape and deciding to teach it chess, croquet, snakes+ladders, tennis and, of course, driving a car! All in all, an unusual and entertaining book.
Egon Schiele: Masterpieces of Art (Rosalind Ormiston): I’ve again been somewhat obsessed by Schiele’s art over recent weeks. Austrian artist Schiele (1890-1918) died at the age of just 28 (as a result of the Spanish flu pandemic). He was a controversial individual (and perhaps not a particularly ‘nice’ person?) but, in his brief career, he was a prolific artist – creating over 3,000 works on paper and some 300 paintings. I love that he painted both figures and buildings with a brash boldness (raw, sometimes shocking, beauty of the human form… and brightly coloured, jumbled façades and landscapes). He was clearly influenced by his mentor Klimt but, for me, there’s also a hint of Mackintosh and Modigliani in his work. The book provides a useful insight into his life and work – as well as a comprehensive collection of colour illustrations of his paintings.
The Half Hunter (John Sherwood): First published in 1961 (another green cover Penguin Crime book from the Oxfam bookshop!). An unusual thriller with 17-year-old Jim Marsden (about to start at Oxford University), in his bright yellow, pre-war Austin Seven car, playing the part of the sleuth. It’s certainly not a run-of-the-mill crime book: a disappearing young woman; rebellious youths with too much money (and rich, powerful parents); an unsolved murder; and several suspects. Lots of imagined conversations and scenarios as Jim speculates on the true course of events. A clever plot and a quick and satisfying read.

oysterband+june tabor at the beacon…

I went along to the Beacon last night to see the Oysterband in their “A Long, Long Goodbye” tour, alongside June Tabor. After 45 years on the road, legendary folk rock collective Oysterband are hanging up their touring boots and concluding their ‘live’ career (whatever that means). 
I last saw them perform, again alongside June Tabor, at St George’s 13 years ago (according to my ancient blog!)… and, of course, we’re ALL getting older! Yes, just like me, they’d all aged and yet, they projected a wonderful celebratory spirit and acknowledgement of their respective musical journeys – the people they’d met, the stories they’d heard, the experiences they’d encountered, the songs they’d sung.
Yes, they’d all aged. Tabor is a year older than me and somewhat frailer than she was in 2011… but her voice has maintained its powerful, brooding majesty which, last night, I found quite moving. Likewise, John Jones still has a wonderful voice and a lovely warm, on-stage presence. Last night obviously involved lots of old familiar songs (the audience were in good voice too!) but, among the highlights for me was the cover of Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart”.
They’re coming to the end of their time of performing after 45 years on the road. There were lots of memories, words of gratitude and much laughter. It was a brilliant, quite emotional, evening… and one that I will long remember.
Photo: From last night’s performance.

three cane whale at st george’s (again)…

Hannah and I went to a Three Cane Whale concert at St George’s last night. My blog tells me that it’s more than 10 years since I first attended one of their gigs (and I’ve seen them/Paul Bradley perform perhaps a dozen times since then).
I first came across their music when I was working at the pop-up shop at The Architecture Centre in November/December 2013 (one of their songs was on our regular playlist).
They really are an extraordinary, ridiculously-talented group of musicians (and very nice blokes too); they often like to associate their music with ‘Place’ and have recorded a number of their pieces ‘on location’ – in barns, old chapels, on hillsides and even next to main roads!
The three musicians (Alex Vann, Pete Judge and Paul Bradley) play an incredible, eclectic range of instruments. Last night’s concert was absolutely beautiful (no surprises there) and focused on music from their sixth album, “Hibernacula”.
In a broken world, it was just so lovely to know that beauty, joy and peace still exist. Hannah and I both felt we needed this!
Photo: From our seats in the gallery at last night’s concert.
PS: 3CW always seem able to have rather wonderful ‘support acts’ and last night was no exception… last night Boss Morris were excellent! 

september-october 2024 books…

Wide Sargasso Sea (Jean Rhys): I remember starting this book (first published in 1966) many, many years ago but gave up after only a few pages. I recently picked up a copy while we were staying at Alice’s and read it in a couple of days. The novel, initially set in Jamaica, opens a short while after the Slavery Abolition Act 1833 abolished slavery in the British Empire in August 1834. It’s a ‘postcolonial novel’ that serves as sort of a hypothetical prequel to Jane Eyre, the novel details the tragic decline of a young woman, Antoinette Cosway, who is sold into marriage to an English gentleman, Mr Rochester. Rhys portrays Cosway amidst a society so driven by hatred, so skewed in its sexual relations, that it can literally drive a woman out of her mind. It’s a tough, compelling read.
The Matisse Stories (AS Byatt): My friend Tony recommended this book (good man!). The book (first published in 1993) consists of three short stories and pay homage to the artist Matisse. Each of them offer verbal portraits of apparently ordinary lives driven by pain and disquiet. At first, they begin on a deceptively simple, almost cosy way: a middle-aged woman having her hair cut; a mother trying to work at home while she waits for the doctor to check her son's chicken pox; and a woman meeting a colleague for lunch at the Chinese restaurant she regularly patronises. But darker forces emerge or, as one reviewer put it: “Byatt is adept at rendering disintegration in a series of more or less macabre, violent and comical set-pieces”. I really enjoyed the book and thought Byatt’s writing was rather beautiful.
The Outrun (Amy Liptrot): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (which I first read in 2020 – and decided it was one of my ‘books of the year’)(I haven’t changed my mind). It’s a beautiful, lyrical, brutally-honest memoir. At the age of 30, Liptrot finds herself ‘washed up’ back home on Orkney. The previous ten years of her life had been an utter nightmare; she left Orkney, went south, ended up in London and started a downward spiral of hellish alcohol addiction. She lost jobs, a boyfriend she loved, her health and self-respect – and ended up in rehab, with her psyche teetering on the edge of the abyss (I couldn’t see how anyone could survive what she had been through). So, Liptrot returned home (she briefly tried a couple of times before without success). She was alcohol-free, but an absolute mess. She retreated to the ‘outrun’ (the name given to a rough pasture on her parents’ farm) and, very slowly, thanks to her amazing resolve and determination, her life is gradually restored and re-formed. For a time, she works on her father’s farm then gets a job on a survey of the endangered corncrake (which immediately set me back with my own memories of the corncrakes of Iona!), and eventually she retreats to the tiny island of Papa Westray, off Orkney. There she walks the hills, goes wild swimming, tracks the wildlife, stares at the skies and discovers a new meaning for her life. Thanks to the internet, she constantly learns new things – astronomy, rock formations, history and the like… and, crucially (and wonderfully), she’s remained sober for two years (and resolved to being sober the rest of her life). She writes beautifully. It’s an incredibly brave, eloquent and hopeful book. I loved it all over again… and, now, it’s been made into a film (starring one of my favourite actors, Saoirse Ronan) – which, much to my huge relief, doesn’t let the book down!
Raffles (EW Hornung): First published in 1899 (my copy: 1950). Wikipedia describes Raffles as a ”gentleman thief” - living at the Albany, a prestigious address in London, playing cricket for the Gentlemen of England and supporting himself by carrying out ingenious burglaries. Raffles has Harry "Bunny" Manders – a former schoolmate to help him. It’s a bit like Holmes and Watson in reverse. Fascinating in theory, but I actually found this book of short stories unremarkable, not particularly clever and, frankly, rather boring.
Akenfield (Ronald Blythe): I’ve started ‘gently’ reading Blythe’s wonderful book ‘Next To Nature’ (a year’s observations, gossip and stories compiled about his Akenfield village home on the Suffolk/Essex border), but have been determined to try to read it slowly - on a monthly basis (January, February etc) in the way the book has been set out. But I also felt somewhat frustrated not to be able to continue to immerse myself in Blythe’s wonderful prose… so ended up reading this book (first published in 1969) about his account/portrait of modern rural life in his village, compiled during the course of 1967 – its inhabitants (ex-soldiers, farm labourers, district nurses, teachers etc etc), their stories, their experiences, their hardships and their joys. It’s a beautiful, fascinating and frequently moving book. Highly recommended.

the outrun...

I went to the Watershed this afternoon to see Nora Fingscheidt’s film based on Amy Liptrot’s 2018 book ‘The Outrun’ – an unflinching adaptation of her personal story of alcohol addiction.
I first read the book in 2020 (and I’ve just finished re-reading it - as it happens to have been chosen as my Storysmith bookgroup’s next book), absolutely loved it and just hoped that the film wouldn’t come as a huge let-down. Thankfully, it didn’t!
It was excellent. Obviously, in the manner of such matters, there were things both added to and omitted from the film… but that didn’t fundamentally detract from it.
After a decade away in London, 29-year-old Rona (played by the brilliant Saoirse Ronan) returns home to the Orkney Islands. By this time, she was alcohol-free, but an absolute mess after her pitiful experiences in London – where she’d lost jobs, a boyfriend she loved, her health and her self-respect… and ended up in re-hab, with her psyche teetering on the edge of the abyss. She retreats to the ‘outrun’ (the name given to a rough pasture on her parents’ farm) and, very slowly, thanks to her amazing resolve and determination, her life is gradually restored and re-formed. The film successfully portrays the scary hopelessness of addiction alongside the joyful beauty of nature.
It’s a powerful, unflinching, scary, eloquent… but, ultimately, hopeful and uplifting story which has been impressively adapted for cinema audiences.
I absolutely loved it.
Photo: Saoirse Ronan and Amy Liptrot (from Liptrot’s FB page) taken at the film’s premiere on Orkney.
PS: When I lived on Iona for 2 months in 2012, I regularly used to hear Corncrakes (you need to have seen the film!) - and even saw one of them on two occasions!

lee…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed this morning (yes, I know!) to see Ellen Kuras’s film about the model-turned-war-photographer Lee Miller.
It’s a tough, but compelling, watch…
Kate Winslet is brilliant in the role of the American photographer Miller, working as a war correspondent for Vogue during WW2. Along with her friend and colleague, Life magazine photographer David Scherman (Andy Samberg), she was one of the very first civilians to bear witness to the atrocities of the Nazi concentration camps at Buchenwald and Dachau.
I was aware of Miller’s photographic career and legacy, but didn’t know that her son only discovered her file of photographs hidden away in the loft of their home after her death in 1977 (over recent years, Miller’s son and granddaughter have endeavoured to keep her memory alive).
There were some scenes that I felt were a bit ‘exaggerated’… but (what do I know!) were vindicated in the closing credits – which showed ‘stills’ from the film alongside photographs taken by Miller that absolutely endorsed what had actually happened.
It’s a remarkable, sobering film… brilliantly acted and depressingly highlighting the exclusion of women/attitudes towards women during WW2.
PS: Winslet chain-smoked CONTINUOUSLY during the film… I just hope they weren’t ‘proper’ fags or else the insurance company might have to pay out bigtime!!

the songs of joni michell at st george’s…

Joni Mitchell has been my musical idol for over 66 years.
I love her music with a passion and many of the songs take me back to my early college days… but, sadly, I’ve never seen her perform ‘live’ (one of my biggest regrets) – and, clearly, that’s not going to change.
Last November, she celebrated her 80^th birthday and there was a sell-out concert (curated by Lail Arad) given in her honour at London’s Roundhouse… and this led to demands for further shows/UK tour.
Last night’s concert at St George’s was one of the resulting gigs.
Ru first spotted the concert blurb a few months ago and so it was agreed that it would be lovely for our Bristol-based daughters, Ru+Hannah, plus Moira and me to get together for an evening’s musical celebration (they’re lovely like that! xx).

We didn’t know any of the female-dominated line-up (apparently all celebrated singer-songwriters in their own right - Jesca Hoop, Lail Arad, Olivia Chaney, Rachael Dadd and Julia Turner) and so it could have been a very disappointing evening… but, fortunately, it wasn’t. It’s obviously nowhere near the same as seeing Mitchell perform the songs herself, but the evening proved to be an excellent celebration of her iconic music (and St George’s was full).
Lots of musical memories were duly evoked and, fortunately from my perspective, most of my ‘absolute favourite songs’ were performed.
Soft man that I am, I was close to tears when they sang ‘Both Sides Now’ to conclude the show.
A lovely evening.
Photo: Final song performed by all the artists plus members of a local choir.

last home game of the season…

It’s Gloucestershire’s last home game of the season and so I went along to the first day of what, supposedly, is a four-day match against Sussex. After their weekend exploits, Glocs might be well be T20 Champions but, back in the County Championship, they continued to struggle in the traditional form of the game.
Winning the toss and batting first on a beautiful, sunny day, Glocs were all out for a paltry 109 by 2.15pm. Sussex (who are currently top of Division 2) responded pretty effectively and ended the first day 149-4 wickets.
For part of the morning session, I found myself sitting next to one of the Sussex bowling coaches, James Kirtley (former Sussex and England pace bowler). I hadn’t a clue who he was(!) and it was only in the course of our conversation that I discovered his role in the Sussex set-up… but it was absolutely fascinating listening to him. He talked about all the detailed analysis that they undertook to ascertain detailed information about a batter’s weaknesses and strengths (REALLY detailed stuff, like batter X had been out LBW in 12% of his innings; or 18% of his dismissals were catches to wicket-keeper or slips etc etc) and how all the bowlers (and fielders) were coached to be acutely aware of such stuff. Even as we watched the cricket, he pointed out one of the weaknesses of a Glocs batter… and, sure enough, he ended up being caught in exactly the way the coach had predicted! Obviously, I passed on my own advice to him based on YEARS of experience… I feel sure he was grateful.
Once again, I don’t think this Championship game will last the scheduled four days!
Photo: The ground wasn’t exactly full to bursting as the morning session got underway!

september 2024 books…

Letters To My Grandchildren (Tony Benn): I seem to be going through a phase of re-reading books (I first read this in 2012; first published in 2009). An encouraging book – idealistic, inevitably political and hugely affectionate – comprising 39 letters to his grandchildren (together with a lovely postscript “The Daddy Shop” – an invented story of his). When he wrote it, his ten grandchildren ranged from 31 to 13 years in age (which means they now must be 46 to 28!); when I first read it in 2012, our six grandchildren ranged from 6 to 1 years of age (and are now 18 to 12). Even if you didn’t altogether agree with his political views, you can’t help but appreciate his constant curiosity and zest for life. Some really insightful stuff – especial about war, political power and the environment. He died in 2014, aged 88… a good man.
Wilt On High (Tom Sharpe): It’s been a very long time since I first read this – probably approaching 40 years (first published in 1984)! I’ve read a lot of Sharpe’s books over the years and this one is fairly typical in its completely over-the-top, farcical and hysterical humour (with a fair portion of vulgarity and sex thrown into the mix!). Henry Wilt is a Liberal Studies lecturer at the Fenland College of Arts and Technology; he’s married to Eva and they have gifted, quarrelling quad daughters. There’s talk of drug dealing at the Tech (a student is found dead) and, completely unfairly, Wilt becomes the target of suspicion. He also, for his sins, teaches weekly at the local prison and at the nearby US airbase; alarm bells sound in both organisations and Wilt is at the centre of the resulting investigations… Inventive and frequently very funny.
Why I Wake Early (Mary Oliver): Another re-read (I first read this in 2016)… which I’m using as part of my early morning routine (Oliver and I both wake up early!). I love Oliver’s poetry. She has a natural gift for conveying the wonder of the ordinary… although she focusses on ‘creatures’ a little/much too much for my taste! But I do love the fact that she sees (and celebrates) things that most people might never notice. Looking, seeing, reflecting, celebrating the simple things in life. Another beautiful book.
Vanessa Bell: Portrait Of The Bloomsbury Artist (Frances Spalding): Yet another re-read (previously read in July 2021)… but I’ve been looking at her art quite a lot recently. In fact, there’s been an exhibition of her work at The Courtauld during the Summer/early Autumn – which, sadly, I might not be able to get to. I absolutely loved this excellent biography (first published in 1983 and re-published in 2016). I’ve read a lot of Bloomsbury-related stuff over recent years and been particularly drawn to the paintings by Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant. This book provides fascinating insights into the work and lives of both of them (and the Bloomsbury group) - with Bell becoming 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!) and full of amusing and intriguing details. This extract sums up Bell beautifully: “Vanessa continued to follow an independent course in life with a sense of purpose that others envied. Vanessa ‘takes her own line in London life’, Virginia (Woolf) observed; ‘ refuses to be a celebrated painted; buys no clothes; sees whom she likes as she likes; and altogether leads an indomitable sensible and very sublime existence’.” A wonderful, intriguing biography… which I really enjoyed re-reading.
Bullets For The Bridegroom (David Dodge): Another Penguin crime novel bought at the Oxfam bookshop (first published in 1948)(apparently it’s the third ‘Whit’ Whitney book?). Set in Reno, Nevada at the end of WW2 (between VE and VJ Day), James and Kitty Whitney have just got married and are on honeymoon, but find themselves sucked into the somewhat scary world of espionage, a questionable night-club/casino, disguised government agents, mistaken identities… and murder (the person who was going to marry them gets murdered). The FBI are desperately trying to track a secret wireless station. It’s a pacey, sinister tale which builds in intensity and ends in a large-scale gunfight involving enemy agents but, for me, I found the plot rather unconvincing and disappointing (I could imagine the author fancying it becoming a blockbuster film!), the storyline dated (perhaps not surprisingly!) and, ultimately, predictable.    

school service corps (in the early 1960s)... but not for me.

Bizarrely, I recently came across a photograph of an earth mound/retaining wall structure they use on shooting ranges and it immediately conjured up memories of my time at grammar school in Birmingham. We had our own firing range(!) in the 'playground' - consisting of a high brick wall, with battered earth in front to house the targets (we used the firing range as one of our playground ‘goalmouths’!), together with its own fully-equipped armoury on school premises (complete with rifles, bayonets and bullets)!!
I was born just four years after the end of the war and it’s easy to forget how much impact the war still had in those years of my youth.
The school’s cadet corps (Army/Navy/RAF) was taken EXTREMELY seriously; school masters used to wear their service uniforms once a week on service corps days. Each year, the school’s cadet corps had a large parade – they marched (complete with a full band of drummers and buglers) from the school to the sports ground off Wood Lane, three miles away… and they were always led by the Divinity master (and Army officer!) who rode a huge white horse (I know!).
There was an expectation for all boys to sign up for the Cadet Corps and I think most probably did. But NOT our Form. I was in the ‘Remove Stream’ at school – we were in the ‘fast stream’ earmarked to take our ‘O’ Levels in 4 years instead of 5. When it came to the time for signing up (in 1962/63, when we were perhaps 14 years old?), absolutely NO ONE in our class volunteered to ‘join up’. The assigned ‘Cadet Corps Masters’ were incredulous… “never in the history of the school has this ever happened” (or words to that effect). I recall the ‘Top Dog’ Corps Master coming to lecture us… it was our DUTY… we were the school’s future Cadet Corps OFFICERS for goodness sake (implying that, as the ‘bright’ ones, we were required to pull the others ‘into shape’). It had absolutely no effect… none of us joined up. 

It’s something I look back on with a certain pride… you might think our actions were inappropriate, unwarranted or misguided but, like the climate change school pupils of today, I think we were making our own small statement… and, naïve as it might be, I’m very pleased that we did.

august 2024 books...

Redhead By The Side Of The Road (Anne Tyler): This novel is essentially about ‘roads not taken’… fortysomething Micah runs his own, very modest, ‘Tech Hermit’ business - fixing computer problems for old ladies in the neighbourhood and has a second day-job as apartment caretaker and general odd-job man. He lives rent-free, alone, keeps himself to himself, goes for early morning runs, maintains an unchanging cleaning regime and has a long-term relationship with a teacher girlfriend. Two things happen: the disaffected, fatherless teenage son of Micah’s high-school sweetheart turns up on his doorstep (convinced that Micah might actually be his real father) and his girlfriend is threatened with eviction. Unthinkingly, Micah jokes that she could always sleep in her car and, unsurprisingly, she declares the relationship over… It’s a perceptive novel about someone who has opted out and persistently failed to engage, who’s made a habit of walking away from almost everything. I enjoyed it.
The Summer Book (Tove Jansson): I first read this book 21 years ago (first published in 1972; Jansson died in 2001, aged 86) and thought it was time I revisited it… before the summer ends! An elderly artist and her 6-year-old granddaughter (Sophia) while away a summer together on a tiny island off the gulf of Finland. What I’d forgotten was that the book is a novel (it actually reads like a narrative/log of their time together). Jansson wrote the book a year after her mother’s death and she drew on the things that were most precious to her (her graphic designer/cartoonist mother, her young niece Sophia, and the island home that she built with her brother - Sophia’ father - where she spent so many summers of her life. Jansson spent 5 months each year on the island from 1964-1991). It’s an account of the understated love between an old woman and her grandchild… and it’s quite, quite beautiful, wise and frequently funny. I loved immersing myself into their little world (their candid, sometimes argumentative, conversations between them; the grandmother’s infinite patience; the smart, demanding grandchild; living on a small island). As I finished the book, I was struck by the fact that, when I first read it, I wasn’t a grandfather (now there are 6 grandchildren!)… and just wished that I had the wisdom, patience and humour of the novel’s grandmother! I absolutely loved re-reading this book.
Devotions (Mary Oliver): I love Mary Oliver’s writing. This is a collection of her poetry dating from 1963 to 2015. I first read it at the beginning of 2023 and have spent the past few months gently re-reading it on a daily basis. In many ways – with her beautiful, simple observations of nature and life – I’ve found that Oliver’s poetry has become a treasured companion on my own journey through life (Not all her poetry appeals to me, but I’ve been particularly drawn to her reflective poems written when she was in her mid-/late-seventies) and a constant reminder that we live a truly beautiful world which so many often take for granted.
Ex-Wife (Ursula Parrott): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup selection (“re-discovered gems” from the list of Faber Editions), first published in 1929 – but never before now in the UK. It’s set in New York in 1924; Patricia (the story’s beautiful narrator in her very early 20s) and Peter (handsome husband) live as a ‘thoroughly modern married couple’ – both drink and smoke, both work, both believe in ‘love-outside-marriage’ (except when it doesn’t suit Peter). He ends up pushing for a divorce and she is forced to forge a new life for herself. At a time in the US when the stigma of divorce was fading, the book presents a picture of a ‘new woman’ - one who pursues new vocational, economic, and romantic freedoms. Pat spends her days chasing a career, while her nights were a boozy cocktail of restaurants, speakeasies and sexual encounters… but it’s also a frequently sad story about how women gained some freedoms, but lost other things. It’s a remarkable, entertaining novel that’s a heady mix about marriage, divorce, love affairs, beautiful clothes, lots of alcohol and scandal in the jazz age. I very much enjoyed it (despite its sad encounters) and found it remarkable to reconcile that the book had been written nearly 100 years ago.
Waxwork (Peter Lovesey): A Victorian crime fiction novel I picked up from the Oxfam Bookshop (first published in 1978). The cover describes it as a “Sergeant Cribb Adventure” (surely they could have done better than that!?). DS Cribb (frustratingly for him, he’d remained a sergeant for the past 10 years while some of his contemporaries had, to his mind, ‘earned’ promotions by using the manipulating the system for their own ends) probes the baffling case of an confessed murderess as she awaits, unflustered, the hangman. Is she really guilty? If not, why confess? Then the Home Office is sent a photograph that casts doubt on the confession. Cribb is called in and his investigations produce nothing to ease the minds of the authorities. As he plunges deeper into the relationships and history of the small group connected with the murder, he becomes increasingly suspicious that something very different had actually occurred. Clever plot with cunning twists.

pericles at the rsc...

On Monday evening we went to see the RSC’s production of Shakespeare’s ‘Pericles’ at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon (featuring ‘our’ Felix in the roles of Antiochus and Pander). It’s Tamara Harvey’s first production as the Royal Shakespeare Company’s co-artistic director.
It’s a play that isn’t performed all that frequently (it was last staged by the RSC 18 years ago) – perhaps because some believe that it’s only partly by Shakespeare? The plot is complicated and, in somewhat typical ‘Shakespearian’ style, includes shipwrecks, death at sea, royalty, incest, tyranny, three father-daughter relationships, unrecognised relatives, tragedy, humour and pirates!
I thought the play made a rather plodding start (the early acts are generally ascribed to George Wilkins – which might explain things - and not helped, again in my humble opinion(!), by some rather uninspired choreography), but developed impressively subsequently. Alfred Enoch (Pericles) is quite brilliant as Pericles and, as you would imagine at the RSC, the rest of the cast – in their bright pinks, purples and azures - combine to provide impressive support.
I always love going to plays at the RSC (I adore both the Royal Shakespeare and Swan theatres) and this production was no exception.

july-august 2024 books…

Alive, Alive Oh! (Diana Athill): I’m a great admirer of Athill’s writing and have read several of her books. In this one, written in her 97^th year (first published in 2015), she recalls the moments in her life that have sustained her… from vivid memories of her 1920s childhood; her experience of WW2 to stories of travel; her loves; the miscarriage, aged 43, that almost ended her life; and candid, often very funny, reflections of what it’s like to be old.
Doppelganger (Naomi Klein): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (theme: non-fiction female authors). Klein began writing this book (several years ago) after people were constantly mistaking her for the conspiracist, Naomi Wolf, but she ends up weaving her way (in the words of book reviewer Paula Lacey) through the world of “anti-vaxxers, wellness influencers and alt-right demagogues, attempting to make sense of the conspiratorial turn in contemporary politics”.Much of what Klein describes was entirely foreign to me (no surprises there!). So much stuff was that initially over my head… QR codes, Gettr, Rumble, Mirror World, diagonalists, Shadow Lands, personal branding?? She clearly regards Steve Bannon and Trump as major ‘concerns’ (HER descriptions are somewhat stronger as she delves into the ecosystem of Wolf, Bannon and Trump!). Things have become far more complicated than in the days of my youth. How the internet has fostered misinformation. The problem in this age of big corporations, climate crisis, Covid lockdowns, online influencers and collapsed trust in mainstream politics and media is that everybody has their suspicions that they are being lied to and manipulated (and, of course, they’re right!). It’s a long book (some 350 pages of small font) and I wonder how many of my bookgroup will have finished it in the month between our gatherings - some of us, (ie. me!) don’t have jobs to go to? It’s wide-ranging in the subjects covered; it’s insightful, academic and complex in content… and, frankly, pretty scary as far as the measures that are already ‘available’ to distort our knowledge, understanding of the world and, ultimately, our politics. Towards the end of the book, she talks about how we might find our way back from the current despair – but I wasn’t altogether convinced! It’s an impressive, compelling, disturbing book.
The Island Of Missing Trees (Elif Shafak): This is our next Blokes’ bookgroup book. Published in 2021, it’s tale of love and division set between postcolonial Cyprus and London, exploring themes of generational trauma and belonging… through different timelines. The story relates to the divided island (the Turkish-controlled north of the island and the Greek-controlled south) and the conflicts of the 1950/60s (I can recall a handful of Greek Cypriot children moved to my junior school in the late 1950s), which eventually resulted in the Turkish invasion of 1974. Kostas and Defne Kazantzakis are young lovers in a painfully divided Cyprus – one Greek and Christian, the other Turkish and Muslim. They subsequently move to England, but continue to pay the emotional legacy of the past. The story continues partly through the eyes of their 16 year-old daughter Ada (who has never been to Cyprus)… and also features a fig tree as one of the book’s main narrators! It’s a love story set against the anger, divisions, hate and brutality of conflict. It’s about immigration, lost lives, memories and coping with the aftermath of history. It reminded me of the awful happenings in the ongoing, present-day Israel-Palestine – with all of its similar brutal legacies. In his review of the book, Robert Macfarlane describes the novel “that rings with… compassion for the overlooked and the under-loved, for those whom history has exiled, excluded or separated”… which I think is a far description. It’s an important, compelling book about generational trauma and I enjoyed reading it. Did I love it? Well, not quite… I found its magical-realist style somewhat off-putting and over-sentimental at times for my taste (and I’m someone who is easily ‘moved’!).
The Universal Christ (Richard Rohr): Many of my ‘religious’ friends regard Rohr as something of a champion when it comes to ‘unlocking’ faith issues. Personally, despite having read a few books of his over the years, he’s never quite ‘done it’ for me. In my ongoing spiritual wilderness (and having listened in to a recent Proost podcast), I decided to give Rohr ‘another go’ and bought this book (second-hand and full of underlined texts from a previous reader!). In it, he explores the following: “We may feel we know who Jesus was, but who was Christ?”. Rohr is a decent, wise, intelligent, articulate man and I actually found sections of the book quite helpful (and I loved that he FREQUENTLY used the words “in my opinion” when making comment - I SO often feel that I’m being preached at in the ‘spiritual’ books I read… or by things that many people say to me). Inevitably, I suppose (well, for me, in my spiritual wilderness), the book is written from the perspective of a Christian ‘believer’ and I frequently found myself shaking my head and saying: “but, hang on, that assumes X or Y…”. But, hey, I was re-reading Mary Oliver’s beautiful poetry book “Devotions” at the same time as this Rohr book… and found that they frequently seemed to be expressing similar things… which, as a huge lover of Oliver’s writing, must say something positive about my attitude towards Rohr’s work.
Call For The Dead (John Le Carré): First published in 1961, this was Le Carré’s first published novel and, obviously therefore, the first to feature secret agent George Smiley. I still find it odd that he was allowed to publish this book while he was still working in British Intelligence (but what do I know?). A Foreign Office civil servant has killed himself and Smiley realises that the powers that be will set him up to take the blame. This is a tense, clever spy novel… which gives a hint of the rather wonderful espionage thrillers Le Carré will go on to write.  

john hopkins at beacon hall…

Last night (thanks to my three lovely daughters who gave me gig vouchers for my birthday), I went along to see Jon Hopkins in concert at the Bristol Beacon (formerly Colston Hall). It was the first time I’d been there since the Beacon’s extensive renovations. I’d seen Hopkins perform several years ago when he was teamed up with King Creosote back (in 2011, I think) and again when they came to the beautiful isle of Iona in 2012, when they performed in the tiny library there (I was volunteering on the island with the Iona Community for two months at the time). The seating capacity was probably just 35 and it was a sell-out gig(!). It proved to be a memorable, entertaining concert – in part because they’d spent the afternoon at the Argyll Hotel being plied with countless triple gin-and-tonics (which continued right through the performance)!  
Last night’s concert was VERY different… 

Hopkins’ music has ‘moved on’ somewhat from those days (understatement!) – including working with Brian Eno and Coldplay – to become an acknowledged electronic artist and producer boasting an output (quoting from the Beacon’s blurb) “that flows from rugged techno to transcendent choral music, solo acoustic piano and psychedelic ambient, the Mercury Prize nominated Immunity (2013) and the Grammy-nominated Singularity (2018), two intense, ambitious albums of spiritually-minded techno and ambient tracks, were among the decade’s most lauded electronic albums”.
Firstly, I was probably the oldest person there. It was non-stop; high volume; big bass; wall of sound; massive colour (lighting engineers seem to be the new gods); enthusiastic, throbbing audience… and Hopkins on his own at the front manipulating everything on his synthesizer keyboard/drum machine (or whatever it is he uses!). I have to admit, it was the first such gig that I’d attended (Hopkins has travelled a long, long way in the last 12 years or so – without me following his journey). Being an old codger, I spent an awful of the time wondering what the high volume was doing to the eardrums of the people standing up (very) close to the amplifiers!!
Did I enjoy it? Well, yes, I absolutely did… even though the ‘music’ was not my sort of thing. I found it something of a mesmerising experience. Simon+Garfunkel it was not!!
PS: It was very good to see ‘Big Jeff’ (a Bristol music icon who regularly attends over 300 gigs a year) in the ‘front row’ of the audience… despite all his health problems after being badly burnt in a domestic fire three years ago.
PPS: It was also lovely to meet up briefly with Stu and Iris before the concert started (we’d all booked to see Hopkins, completely oblivious that we’d all be attending)… they were standing, while I was sitting(!) in a somewhat cramped seat on the ‘Lower Tier’ gallery.
Photo: Some ‘mash-up’ pics from last night.

chasing the sun…

I went along to the Watershed last night (together with great friends Sarah and Dave) to watch a film about cycling. Nothing to do with the Tour de France or professional bike racing… this was simply a documentary film about lots of cyclists endeavouring to ride 205 miles coast-to-coast (UK South event: Thames Estuary to Weston-super-Mare) in a day – the longest/summer solstice day.
It’s NOT about speed or being first across the line. It’s about how much of a land it’s possible to see, to feel, by bicycle in a single day (in 1973 an American university professor set out to discover the most energy efficient creature on earth… and he concluded that it was a human being on a bicycle!).
It’s now an annual event – and there are other similar coast-to-coast rides organised on the same day in Italy, Scotland and Ireland (with others being planned elsewhere). Ollie Moore (the person who first came up with the idea) views the event as giving people an opportunity to get away from their screens and daily clutter and creating a “space for thinking” and re-attuning the senses to being surrounded by nature and allowing individuals to see things they wouldn't normally see. Moore was inspired by Richard Long, the English sculptor/land artist – who attended last night’s film (Long would document his walks through nature by opening up his senses, drinking in the sights, sounds and sensations he was feeling on his bike or his walks). It’s also about the environment and ‘saving the planet’.
The film has interviews with people who have discovered (or re-discovered) the health and environmental benefits of cycling in their own cities, towns or villages… and many who are passionate advocates for ensuring greater provision of dedicated cycling space on our heavily-trafficked streets.
The film includes rather wonderful footage of (and conversations with) a couple of cyclists participating in the coast-to-coast ride – a woman who had never previously contemplated cycling any such sort of distance and a man who talked about how cycling had massively helped his mental health.
It’s a passionate, joyful film and I hugely enjoyed it.  

june 2024 books...

Heart of Darkness (Joseph Conrad): This our next ‘Blokes’ bookgroup book. It was first published in 1899 and tells the story of Marlow, a seaman and wanderer, who recounts his physical and psychological journey up the heart of the River Congo in search of an infamous ivory trader, Kurtz. It’s about the Victorian world of adventure, exploration, discovery… and exploitation. It’s a tough read in more ways than one – there’s a sense of the physical and mental struggle of battling through the jungle, but also of the various powers-that-be exploiting Africa for its riches and resources while leaving little or nothing to the Africans who are labouring under them. There are lots of shameful references of the native Africans as being ‘savages’ (indeed, Kurtz himself had been working on behalf of the ‘International Society for the Suppression of Savage Customs’). Through Marlow, Conrad shows the horrors of colonialism and concludes that the Europeans, not the Africans, are the true savages.
Politics On The Edge (Rory Stewart): This will probably turn out to be my ‘Book of the Year’. I’ve long been an admirer of his writing (his book ‘The Marches’ is a particular favourite) and his observations (political or otherwise). You will probably recall that Stewart is a former MP and Minister who was sacked from the Conservative Party by Prime Minister Johnson (for voting against the government). It’s a compelling political autobiography – a brilliant, uncompromising, unfailingly honest portrait of the realities of life in and around Westminster. It’s well-written and hugely entertaining (and somewhat depressing) account of dysfunctional government. Again and again, one is reminded that, because of the farcical ‘first-past-the-post’ electoral system, the arrogance and self-interest of politicians (and in many cases, the dishonesty) seems to be the fundamental aim. I could quote endlessly from the book, but will limit myself to the following two extracts: “I hated how politicians used the pompous grandeur of the Palace of Westminster to pretend to a power they did not have, and to take credit for things they had not done”… and “Nine years in politics had been a shocking education in lack of seriousness. I had begun by noticing how grotesquely unqualified so many of us were for the offices we were given. I had found, working for Liz Truss, a culture that prized campaigning over careful governing, opinion polls over detailed policy debates, announcements over implementation. I felt that we had collectively failed to respond adequately to every major challenge of the past 15 years: the financial crisis, the collapse of the liberal ‘global order’, public despair, and the polarisation of Brexit”. I can’t recommend this brilliant book highly enough.
Foul+Fair (Steve Couch): Author Steve is a good friend from our old days when we lived in Thame, Oxfordshire and I was honoured (and very surprised) to be asked to give my thoughts on the book in its pre-published form (no pressure then!). Key characters are an English teacher whose career is in tatters, but who also coaches a boys’ football team and a single parent police officer who is worried about her career and her son. They both struggle with trying to balance ‘doing the right thing’ and ‘getting the right result’. As a former Sunday League player and as someone who has watched one of his grandsons play in their local side on a number of occasions (and also working as a Deputy House of Head at a comprehensive school after retiring from my architectural practice!), I really enjoyed re-reading the final form of this book (350 pages in 1.5 days gives you a sense of how readable/page-turning this book is!). The story felt entirely authentic. I ‘recognised’ many of the characters and situations… not to mention the ‘overzealous’ team managers, embarrassing loud-mouthed parents, intimidating pupils and the career-obsessed teachers! Very enjoyable.
Late Cuts (Vic Marks): These days, we regard Vic Marks as being one of cricket’s ‘elder statesmen’ but, in my first architectural job in Oxford in the mid-1970s, I recall spending many summer lunchtimes watching him (and the likes of Imran Khan) play at University Parks… and now realise that he was a mere ‘youngster’ (he’s 6 years younger than me!). It’s an entertaining, wide-ranging reflection on the game encompassing his observations on such matters as captains, partnerships, declarations, press conferences and the like - and his contention that the County Championship is the most important aspect of the English game and his despair that its conclusion is relegated to the cold, damp days of the end of September (I just MIGHT have made similar remarks over recent years!). The book (published in 2022… and written between the first and third lockdowns!) is something of a celebration of the game (despite his views of ‘The Hundred’!) in the words of the book’s cover: taking us “beyond the boundary rope, sharing the parts of the game fans don’t get to see, from the food… to the politics of the dressing room… it’s the literary equivalent of an afternoon in the sun at a county outground…”. Perfect summer reading for me!
Charleston: A Bloomsbury House+Garden (Quentin Bell+Virginia Nicholson): Moira bought this lovely book in 1999 but, although I’ve perused its beautifully-illustrated pages on a very regular basis over the years, I realised that I hadn’t actually READ much of it! Quentin Bell (younger son of Clive and Vanessa Bell) was 85 when he started writing the book but, after presenting the first draft, became too ill to continue – so his elder daughter, Virginia Nicholson, completed it. Painters Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant moved to Charleston Farmhouse, in East Sussex, in 1916… and, over the next 50 years, it became the country meeting place for the group of artists, writers and intellectuals known as Bloomsbury (with the artists decorating the walls, doors and furniture). It’s an account of an artistic, somewhat bohemian, creative collection of artists and intellectuals meeting/living together at the house (albeit rather privileged individuals who don’t necessarily have to scrape a living in order to be able to produce their art and writing). Fascinating and stimulating.