Category Archives: my life

Deviations, Boundaries, Prohibitions, (revised)

In the end I went back a long way, realising how much my walks and walking have been influenced by prohibitions. My mother used to tell the story of how when I was three, I took my little sister Judy … Continue reading

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‘where moth doth not corrupt’ My memories of Yugoslavia are like gold in that they will not tarnish. Unlike the whale bones in the Hvalsalen in Bergen that Kathleen Jamie writes about in Sightlines, they don’t gather dust. They don’t … Continue reading

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There’s an old photo on the kitchen wall. A camp site on the French Atlantic coast south of Bordeaux, in the foreground a pallet for a table looking oddly like a big chess board, with a baby’s bottle, a tin … Continue reading

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Brought together for the first time in one exhibition

My grandfather and his cardinal texts moved in with us soon after he began to lose his mind. It must have been at the beginning of the 1960’s.  One of the lessons the old school master liked to repeat was … Continue reading

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“Mummy! The King’s dead!”

Mummy! the King’s dead! This story could only have one title, but has the title ruined the story? It’s something to do with growing older: ‘spots of time’ as I think Wordsworth called them, or one liners as I tend … Continue reading

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A long exposure

Ten or twelve years ago, two or three years before she died,  I went up to the attic at my mother’s house to go through boxes of photos and photo albums and among the holiday snaps and smiling children and … Continue reading

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