Category Archives: Unreliable memories

He seemed to need to make a statement. Someone had mocked him for being suburban, from Camberley or some such place, and he had assumed it to be an implication that he had come from somewhere that was not significant. … Continue reading →

It was February 1967 when we moved to High Ham. I was six years old. The memories of the move remain vivid. Moving away from the family farm on which I had spent my early years was something I dreaded. … Continue reading →

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 →