identities, journeys, fictions away from the roots
Hottest day of the year in England and Wales. And Spain and France. Unnatural. It’s still warm in the house when I go to bed, and I hear mozzies and flies and bees that mistook indoors for outdoors when they saw the light of my lamp. Yesterday’s mozzies and flies and bees lie dead on... Continue Reading →
After watching Life After Life, the TV adaptation of Kate Atkinson’s novel, I’ve been thinking about death and the circularity of time. I live in both the past and the future, as well as savouring the now. I’m back in Wendover for a couple of weeks. This means no swimming, but instead there’s the cat... Continue Reading →
Having avoided writing and exercise – things that make me feel good – all morning, I eventually sit down in the garden to feel a bit shit about myself. Sometimes my fear of failing is so deep and complex that I think it's actually success that I fear more: starting something, working hard and then... Continue Reading →
Went to the Arts Picturehouse to see Another Round. It's cheaper on Mondays, and my membership has been extended because of Covid. It's been nearly a year since I was last in the cinema, to watch Tenet. And the trip to the cinema, and the film itself, made me happy with my commitment to celebrate... Continue Reading →
It's that time I've been waiting for. Of bare feet and legs and arms only dressed in sun cream. Of explosive growth of plants and trees, air alive and active with scents, bugs, pollen, laughter, barbecue smoke and procreational urges. It's the time we've all waited for. It's time for my vaccination. In a way... Continue Reading →
The Cambridge river is warmer than the Baltic Sea. It welcomes me back, even though the different light tells of time passed. I swim with ducks, mallards, petals and algae today. The trees are still green and the sunlight still reflects the water ripples on the underside of the branches. The river is dark under... Continue Reading →
Branches 