The will to movement

The will to movement

Travelling through the West Country on a Sunday at 5pm suddenly makes me wistful for the days when I used to hitch my way around the country.
When i was young enough for hitching to be a safe endeavor, because I had the indestructibility of youth.

60s

60s

like the corners of my mind … memories of the ‘sixties

As Barbara Streisand intimated…

Biographical memory is like jpegs – it is degraded every time it is accessed. Thinking about a lived past is like string theory made manifest. Each visit to an autobiographical past is a variation. Can we ever know the objective reality of the lives we have...

lace

For a while I knew how to make lace. Where did I learn that? Was it at school, from a French person, (une Dentellière, which naturally sounds like they use old teeth for pegs) or from one of the eccentric old ladies of Buckfastleigh I was always adopting? I dont know...
lies and other stories

lies and other stories

One of the 51 year old twins, who will forever be half of the “Starck girls” of my youth, gets on the bus and proceeds to tell everyone – loudly – the exact price of all of her shopping, what she bought for whom and why, and how she ran out of...