Category Archives: Unreliable memories

My grandfather’s farm lies on the road between Huish Episcopi and Long Sutton. It is deep within rural Somerset. The road that passes the farm is designated as the A372, but it never seemed like a “A” road; it was … Continue reading →

In the 1970s, there were jokes about the M5 motorway being a rustic road. Perhaps it was because it ran into the West Country, through Somerset and into Devon. The stereotype of West Country people was of milk smock wearing, … Continue reading →

Daps, plimsolls, or gym shoes, the sight of them has the capacity to evoke uneasy memories. There were people who had lace-up versions of such shoes, but for most of us the elasticated version was used for those activities which … Continue reading →

Few of those I teach seem to watch traditional television channels. If television is watched at all it is Sky Sports or Netflix, otherwise time is passed on social media platforms. It is strange to think that traditional television seems … Continue reading →

Harold and Glady called at the farm at Pibsbury each Sunday evening. Friends of my grandparents they would sit in the farmhouse sitting room and talk about the events and news of the week. Glady’s name was presumably “Gladys,” but, … Continue reading →