A friend was driving her mother through Ireland this summer and, as they tootled along, she was telling her the names of the rivers they were crossing. And her mother, now in her seventies, said, “Every time we went for a drive, my Dad used to stop at the rivers and go and check on […]Read more "Recollections of the Cathedral Bees"
There have been hints of it for a few weeks now and there is no longer any doubt – autumn is well and truly upon us. But this is not the leafcrunching misty morning autumn of mellow fruitfulness, of the kind that is generally accompanied by achingly bittersweet pangs for the passing of time – […]Read more "Sharp Flavours"
I know an island. A magical place, a smudge of green grass rising out of the bluest of seas, where white sand turns the water turquoise as it washes the shore. The colours are easy on the eye – it relaxes the mind. It is a place of refuge and sanctuary – burdens lift and […]Read more "The Snails and the Whale"
The approach is along a rough old track of potholes and rubble, a dusty coloured affair in stark contrast to the endless fields of bright green beet on either side, the shiny leaves adding a glossy lustre to an otherwise uninspiring scene. At the brow of the hill, two ugly lines of pylons and electricity […]Read more "Seeking Sanctuary"
The Molly Parade! Easily one of my favourite things of the whole year. And, like the blackthorn blossom that marks the end of winter, or the returning swifts heralding spring, the extraordinary sight of several hundred Morris dancers weaving their way through the narrow streets is a signifier. Another year has passed, and high summer […]Read more "The Molly Parade"
Deepest darkest Suffolk, and a bric-a-brac market! Despite the eye-watering prices, there are still treasures to be found. Two postcards catch my eye. The first is this ploughman, stooped from years of hard graft leaning into that plough. This is no pastoral idyll. It’s foggy, the mud looks muddy and our merry ploughboy seems to […]Read more "The Merry Ploughman"
I’m in a bad mood. It’s been one of those days at work and at home, with weather to match – late June, but only 12 degrees and overcast. I am in a car park in Huntingdon with two hours to kill, which would normally be a good thing. Killing time is what I do […]Read more "Flora"