There’s a mother and son I’ve not seen in a while. They’re regulars in the local park, like me. Except that they walk their dogs while I walk by myself. I’m not too fond of their dogs. They’re small and yappy, and the mother and her adult son don’t call them away when they pester … More A mother and her son
The woman who works in the co-op walks up to me with a laugh on her lips and a light in her eyes as if she’s about to tell me a joke. She’s always there helping customers smooth wrinkly bar codes at the self-scan checkouts, speaking loud and clear for those who can’t hear, and … More Seeing double
I wrote the end of my story in a bit of a rush, delighted to have got the job done. One of my readers, who hasn’t yet got to that part, recently commented that the penultimate segment is a bit “traumatic“, and he queried: “does the story just drift to a heartbreaking close or is … More A great reveal
Some hours ago I went for a walk to find the solution to a problem. I put on a podcast about pilgrimage (a subject pertinent to the project I was avoiding) and played a childish game: if I took the long route to the two-shelved mini library three roads away, I might discover a book … More Miracles and games
Again I begin a post with Fitta Chipeta. Otherwise known as ‘Fitta the Fixer’. When in Malawi, if there’s a glitch with a gadget, Fitta will get F Man to sort it. If you’d like a live chicken, Fitta knows someone who knows someone whose father’s sister’s neigbour can supply you with a bird. If … More A Lesson with Fitta
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
Perhaps it started with Sister Laurie at St Joseph’s School in North Battleford, right in the middle of the Canadian prairies. Sister Laurie was petite and neat and the gentlest soul. When I was six and the new girl from the Old World, she was my teacher. She welcomed me into her classroom and nobody … More (Bewitched by) Nuns
A few days ago, I lost my mojo. A mid-week malady that stayed the weekend. … More Losing my mojo
It’s hard to socially distance with a stranger on a narrowboat, but we cannot resist the invitation. These are real Oxford Gyptians on a real canal that curves into a backwater of the real River Thames. … More Real Gyptians
I didn’t think I was writing a love story. I didn’t think I was writing a sad story. Nor one with uncomfortable truths. I thought I was writing a story set in a sunny Spanish Sierra, and I started with someone similar to Elena, the Tortilla Maker. A story intended to be life-affirming and light, … More A Love Story
Have Paprika, Will Travel 