Author Archives: Ian

Three tomatoes

Posted on 13th January 2025 by Ian

It must be five, six, possibly more years since Bob Mortimer taught me a lesson which has more than once been important in the business of getting through the days. In an episode of Gone Fishing, Bob Mortimer reflected on … Continue reading →

Posted in The stuff of daily life | 1 Comment

Saying nothing

Posted on 9th January 2025 by Ian

‘Ian, are you alright?’ ‘Yes. The older I get the more I think and the less I say.’ Sitting in silence with my hands folded in front of me seems to discomfit some people. It is not intended to do … Continue reading →

Posted in Unreliable memories | Leave a comment

Shivering cold

Posted on 8th January 2025 by Ian

‘It’s cold’, said my mother, during one of our thrice weekly telephone calls. ‘It is’, I said. ‘I can’t wait for the spring.’ When I was young, in our house being cold was normal. There was a fire lit in … Continue reading →

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Remembering a soldier

Posted on 5th January 2025 by Ian

‘Who is that?’ asked a cousin last week. ‘That’s our great grandfather, Albert Luxton. His uniform was from when he was in the military police after the First World War.’ Born in 1880, he was the youngest among his siblings … Continue reading →

Posted in This sceptred isle | Leave a comment

The things that last

Posted on 3rd January 2025 by Ian

A suggested video on a social media site was of a yellow-fronted diesel locomotive approaching a railway station.  The briefest of searches would have produced thousands of such images from lines the length and breadth of Britain. Is there any … Continue reading →

Posted in This sceptred isle | 4 Comments