Sadness is a selfish mistress and sometimes, to get out of my own head and do something for someone else, can helpful. What a perfect time to do some hard graft at the Rothley Vineyard. You labour for hours, grappling with unruly vines and sadistic insects. You battle the ferocious heat under hats and long…

“There are no little events with the heart, it magnifies everything. It places in the same scales, the fall of an empire of fourteen years and the dropping of a woman’s glove, and almost always, the glove weighs more than the empire.” Honore deBalzac. Writers and authors have never underestimated the significance of gloves. Shakespeare’s…

I’m not known for my understanding of mathematical equations but this is hardly Fermat’s theorem: It’s just that the days of sitting in a garret producing your opus, to be passed on to those who will tout it about and make your name for you, are now firmly over. I think a writer will always write,…

The square was abuzz on Saturday: Goths hanging out by the left lion, trendy folk in Ray Bans lounging on the steps that double as seating, lovers sharing a sandwich, kids running in and out of the water and squealing at the plumes. It’s such a perfect use of the space. Its beautiful, its fun,…

It sounds like a tawdry novel, perhaps a collaboration between  E.L.James and Phillippa Gregory; but it was actually a wonderful New Years Day, that we spent riding up and down the line on Steam Trains.   Share thisFacebookPinterestTwitterLinkedinEmail

I showcase a piece of artwork each week in the school newsletter. The week of the Charlie Hebdo shooting, I abandoned the piece I had already arranged to feature and begged for a cartoon so we could add one more silent voice to the millions showing support. Thank you Dominic Berry for coming up with this wonderful…

Poinsettias have appeared on all the windowsills around the quad, I turn a corner to be met with white-gowned cherubs in tinsel halos and  the corridors are filled with blue uniform crowds that spontaneously break into three part harmonies of God rest ye Merry Gentleman. I think it must be Christmas. Share thisFacebookPinterestTwitterLinkedinEmail

Had my first craft stall in twenty years, part of a Christmas fair at Wymondham Windmill. I did a few of these events in the 1980s so this was a nostalgic moment in many ways. I am criticised for ‘living too much in the past’. I figure if I can make money doing just that,…

Mention Sileby in a conversation and you won’t inspire thoughts of great beauty. Sileby is known, these days, for its swamps and for its council tip. Well we lost the tip to Mountsorrel, but between our house and the river is a swamp that has become a well respected nature reserve. Cossington Meadows is home…