Tag Archives: musings
Trying Out a New City (Again!)*
Eclectic, dirty, quirky and – for a European capital – surprisingly scruffy. This city reminds me of a bric-à-brac shop, where a precious artefact, a piece of useless junk, an item of modern tat and a neglected masterpiece lie side … Continue reading
Picking Up The Pen Again
Just start. Take that first – hard – step. “I haven’t written since before Christmas,” I say to H. “If we stay at home, I’ll just keep working. I really want to write something – anything – today. Besides, we both need fresh … Continue reading
Autumn as a Touchstone
I asked to have my latte at my usual small round table just outside the door, on the step above the pavement, while the weather still allows it. Soon, it will be too cold or too wet, and I will … Continue reading
Sunday at the Globe
Focussing my thoughts is proving impossible, this weekend. Like trying to corral cats. They dart across the room, bounce off the walls, whizz past me before I can catch them, hover before my eyes, teasing, then spiral upwards at vertiginous … Continue reading
Trees as Story-Hoarders
Someday, I would like to live near a weeping willow. “You’re mad! It’ll wreck your water pipes!” My beloved friend S., with her bucketful of sobering practicality. “Their roots are so long, they’ll reach out from the bottom of your … Continue reading
Be Yourself – At Your Peril
“Just be yourself.” How many times have you heard that? It is the advice given by friends, psychologists, life coaches and even career advisors. “Being yourself” is widely recognised as the best policy. But what if that were not always … Continue reading
When the Day is Perfectly Still
I like still days, like yesterday in London. They creep up on you softly and, suddenly, you walk out of the house and find yourself in the midst of one. Early winter days, when the sky is a grey so … Continue reading
Female Solidarity?*
A couple of years ago, my colleagues and I were watching BBC News 24 during our lunch break. There was a report about the Chilean miners trapped underground for several weeks. Finally rescued, the men were telling the interviewer about … Continue reading
Dress Circle: Another Pearl, Crushed.
It was Michael who first taught me the difference between soundtrack and cast recording. “Soundtracks are from films, darling,” he said, pushing up his glasses, his mellow Irish accent softening a vague distaste for my ignorance, “and cast recordings are … Continue reading
The Delight of Hand Writing
I am sitting on a wooden bench, by the red-brick wall of a small Elizabethan palace. I am leaning against the arm-rest. My legs, stretched out before me, take up two thirds of the seat, and my bare toes are … Continue reading