Category Archives: Unreliable memories

The iris in my mother’s garden is white. If it looks mauve, that’s because the picture was taken in the evening light. It is now forty-five years old and looks as it does at the moment for only a brief … Continue reading →

The four boys sat around the table talking, there was not a phone in sight. I went over to them and said how encouraging it was that they were content to just happy to talk. Talking was a serious business … Continue reading →

The summer holidays are just seven weeks away. On Saturday, 3rd June, I shall sail for Cherbourg: a week touring the battlefields of the Western Front (with Juno Beach in Normandy and Dunkirk added to the First World War sites). … Continue reading →

The photograph is my favourite from my childhood. It dates from perhaps the spring or summer of 1963. It is taken beside the corrugated iron door of the shed that was used as a garage for cars on the home … Continue reading →

He is thirty-two years dead tomorrow. Many memories linger, a quiet man, a gentle man, a stoic, a grandfather loved by us all. A picture of him from 1975 captures a sense of him. Grandad stands on the left-hand side … Continue reading →