On Aide-Mémoires: Shopping Lists – An Exhibition Lists – for bread and beer, red and green apples, dark soy sauce and cajun spice. Word associations with ‘Martha is crackers‘ and ‘Mummy is nuts‘. A child’s script. A spidery hand. (Mis-)spellings. On paper shaped as a dress or jotted with music. On the back of an … More Does Alan want cheese?
New pictures of Olhão azulejos. Or so I had thought. At least I caught some fresh fish at the market… Olhão’s municipal market is comprised of one fish market and one fruit and veg market. Hours are 7am-2pm every weekday, and 7am-1pm every Saturday (closed on Sundays). There is also a weekly Saturday outdoors market … More Azulejos and Fish (Take 2)
(In the coastal town of Olhão in Portugal.) It’s the same menu, the same simplicity, the same man who welcomes us with: “Non-stop fish!” Except that the queues are shorter because the tables are more numerous (the prices are a bit higher, but so are prices everywhere these days). No need for new photos, really. … More Vai e Volte, Olhão (again).
I’m on the hunt for the orange, the ‘Queen of the Orchard‘, on the outskirts of a Portuguese town. However, a three-legged dog is after me. It fixes me with an amber-eyed gaze and its muscled form jumps when it barks. It may want to run with me, or it may want to bite. Friend … More The Queen of the Orchard is not rotten yet.
All I wanted was figs. So I cycled to the market – a twenty-minute bike ride that culminates in the heart of Cambridge, where all (or no) traffic rules apply. (When I drive my car, cyclists teem out of every street corner. Unpredictable and quick like bats and birds, they dart and swoop, and at … More Figs and cyclists
Here are days, weeks and years of travel. From Orkney to Australia, and from Malawi to Berlin. I know some of these places, and once I must have imagined I would visit them all.
… More Boxing up books (a working title)
A year ago, I wrote that the curators of the Mass Observation Archive were making their annual appeal for our 12th May diaries. Here we are again, twelve long yet quick months later, and the Project is keen to know how we have fared. Its aim remains to collect glimpses of our lives on one … More 12th May
A few days ago, I lost my mojo. A mid-week malady that stayed the weekend. … More Losing my mojo
As long as I can remember, my mother has dismissed matters of concern with the words “It’s fate!” Meaning: don’t worry about things you can do nothing about (although saying those words has never saved her from sleepless nights). Recently, my eldest son was sitting a test at a random location (not for COVID-19, but … More An Aside on Fate
It’s our last breakfast in Algodonales, Spain, Summer 2018. We sit on red plastic chairs at a small pavement café and find that our table has a mind of its own. We wedge napkins under its thin metal legs to correct the wobble, and enjoy brief seconds of success before someone rests an elbow and … More Trust in time