"A man doesn't get in a situation like this every day." George Bailey, It's A Wonderful Life. No, not every day, not every week, month nor year. Every other year though? At the end of December 2020 our central heating boiler broke down, we were without heating and hot water for almost a week. That … Continue reading It’s the most wonderful time… isn’t it?
Back in the early to mid-1970's when joss sticks were exotic and just a little edgy and subversive (to a home-counties teenager at least), no evening with friends (Paul Chambers, Keith Berry and Kerry Thorpe) listening to Caravan, Pink Floyd, Yes, Hawkwind and ELP whilst quaffing the contents of a Watneys Party 7 (No, Watneys … Continue reading Joss sticks.
Looking for something else, my partner unearthed an old clipboard of mine with an A4 writing pad and several loose sheets of paper clipped to it. It was one of those things that gets used and then one day it's put aside, and it slips out of consciousness and doesn't turn-up again for many years. … Continue reading Spaces.
A few days ago… well, look, I won't lie to you, it was two weeks ago, Killer Queen by Queen was playing on the wireless, you know the one, "She keeps Moët et Chandon, in her pretty cabinet..." and as the song finished and faded into the next song on the radio station's playlist, in … Continue reading In the Lap of the Gods.
This photograph (below) was taken in the North Cornish village of Trebetherick in the year… well, a "few" years ago now. The inscription on the back reads: "Tony after bathing". Ah, even then I was a clean boy… If I had to guess, I'd say it was 1967/68. I was despatched from Paddington Station, quite … Continue reading Trebetherick
"…the truth is that the State in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is always the best and most quietly governed, and the State in which they are most eager, the worst." Plato, The Republic. The Conservative leadership race, part… um, who's still counting? Thank goodness Boris pulled out. Go on, make up … Continue reading Thank goodness Boris pulled out.
A simple thing, a piece of cake. When leaden skies pervade the day, And respite's sought from out the grey, A kettle with fresh water filled, The steam expands and whistle trilled. Within the pot the leaf is laid, And piping hot the water spray'd, The brew commences, minutes three, Then more tick by, brew'd … Continue reading Cup of tea and a slice of cake.
At school in the 1970s I hit upon the brilliant idea of replacing the writing system, you know the one where you use the set of twenty-six letters to spell out words, with a system where you spelled out each letter in a word and grouped those spelled letters as 'words'. Brilliant idea? Well, when … Continue reading Word processor.
I wrote this on the 26th of November 1978, eight days after the Jonestown Mass Suicide/Massacre, an event that I will freely admit I had to look up to refresh my memory about the whole thing. Jonestown or the Peoples Temple Agricultural Project was a religious settlement located in Guyana and founded by one James … Continue reading Who next for god, Jim?
Written in November 1978, I intended this as a sort of tumbling stream of consciousness. When I wrote it I was torn between using and not using punctuation but in the end I conformed and included commas and full stops. This time however, here in the 21st century, I'm going out on a limb and … Continue reading Any excuse.