Author Archives: Scribe Doll
Russian and Me
I feel happy and privileged that my article, Russian and Me, has just been published by the European Literature Network:
“Jerusalema” on the Parvis
A wedding party is spilling out of the sternly robust 19th-century church that stands on the edge of the Parvis. The eye is immediately drawn to the splendid bride, skin like molten chocolate against the white lace dazzling in the … Continue reading
From a Word that Means “Bridge”
Brugge. That’s what I want to call it from now on. It’s in Flanders, not Wallonia. How typical of the Anglophones – the British in particular – to use its French name by default. We haven’t grown out … Continue reading
The Polish Woman on the Bus
The emotional memory of that day is much stronger than the memory of the event’s details. It was 1981 and I was coming home from school on the bus. I was sixteen. Without a word, she presented a card … Continue reading
The First Day of Spring?
Last Sunday morning, 20th March, radio presenters were cheerfully announcing the first day of spring. “It’s not the first day of spring – it’s the vernal equinox!” I grumbled once again. I do that: talk back at radio presenters, cheer … Continue reading
Just a Five-Pound Teapot
I bought the teapot in Boots. White with blue and yellow flowers. Back when there was a Boots in Sidney Street. When they still sold a few household goods and stationery. I paid about five pounds for it. I … Continue reading
New Year’s Eve
A tower of books is rising in the corridor, taller, wonkier by the minute, until it comes tumbling down. I scoop the books into several plastic bags. They’re going to Oxfam. Books I no longer like. Books I don’t care … Continue reading
Yuletide
There are things you can’t tell other people – or only just a few people, perhaps: that you love the time of year when nights are long. That you long for the moment, at around four o’clock, when you watch the … Continue reading
Finishing a Translation
There… and – send. I hold my breath until I hear the the notification that the e-mail has been sent. It sounds like a plane taking off. I feel like jumping around the room, laughing, singing. Where did I put … Continue reading
Unapologetic Anthropomorphism
Scribe Doll