Category Archives: Unreliable memories

Last week, I found a photograph of an old friend in his room in the student hall of residence in which he lived forty years ago. On the shelf above his head was his alarm clock. It had an alarm … Continue reading →

Still sorting the boxes of books that arrived from High Ham last week. I put Sebastian Barry’s On Canaan’s Side on a shelf of novels. It is a book with a moment of sad beauty. ‘Mr Nolan used to read … Continue reading →

Rhiannon used to scare me. Of course, Rhiannon never existed except as a 1970s song. But her name used to evoke a sense that there was a sophisticated and streetwise world out there that was forever beyond the understanding of … Continue reading →

Ten years ago today, I set off at 8 o’clock on a Sunday morning to drive the three hundred miles from the Mediterranean village of Collioure to the city of Bordeaux. Two hours or so later, I pulled into a … Continue reading →

On Good Friday, we visited family graves placing flowers. Some of the stones and surround were in need of a clean. Dirt and lichens had obscured the names of the departed, so last Tuesday one of my sisters and I … Continue reading →