"Unprovided with original learning, uninformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition, I resolved to write a blog”
I must have walked past the war memorial on platform one of Paddington station a hundred times or more. It’s a very fine large bronze of a WWI soldier, designed by Charles Sargeant Jagger. He is well wrapped up against the cold and rain, wearing his steel helmet and looking down, reading a letter from... Continue Reading →
This is Field Marshall Edwin Bramall, KG, GCB, OBE, MC, JP, DL, a proper soldier’s soldier. Long before I became a member of the Labour Party, I too was a soldier. I served with Bramall in Borneo, which was a hot war, and in the cold war that was Europe. I never met another soldier,... Continue Reading →
I flinch from cancer stories, avert my eyes, turn my head. Avoid. If it's on the radio I turn down the sound, on the TV, I change the channel. It is all too painful, I fear I will be overwhelmed. I frequently am overwhelmed. I have, we all have, lost friends, close friends, comrades, co-worker’s, family to cancer. It has... Continue Reading →
Florence first. In the footsteps of Dante, of Michelangelo, of Botticelli, of the Duma and of David, of the Medici, the Ponte Vecchio, stepping back into the Renaissance. A city of alleyways and lanes and Lambretta’s and art, the most glorious art in of all Italy, in all the world. You would hardly be surprised,... Continue Reading →
You can catch a bus to Ripley, from Leeds Bus station. Number 36. It takes you all across the dales to North Yorkshire and drops you off right outside the Boars Head in Ripley, which was where I was staying for a four-day Yorkshire Break. Ripley is one of those handsome stone built Yorkshire villages... Continue Reading →
I went to see “Aye, Elvis”. It was such good fun. It’s a musical. So poignant , I laughed tears and wept at the pathos. A Scottish woman, leading desperately lonely life, looking after her wheelchair bound mother, working for next to nothing as a checkout girl at the local supermarket, not well educated but... Continue Reading →
Morpurgo;s Private Peaceful is very disappointing. Perhaps we expected too much after the stunning writing of War Horse, , its astonishing stage production and the film. Or perhaps World War 1, as a vehicle for drama has passed its peak and needs to take a rest. Of course one reason may be that without the... Continue Reading →
De Profundis must be one of the most powerful letters in English literature and each year, it appears, in one form or another at almost every Edinburgh Festival. This year it was Simon Callow in a highly praised performance at the Assembly rooms on George Street. He attracts, as one would expect for such a... Continue Reading →
It is the unusual, out of the way things you might accidentally stumble across that make a visit to a famous city memorable. Edinburgh, like all great cities has it’s must see places, must go to events, its great houses and art galleries, its long turbulent history, royal and religious and of course the Castle,... Continue Reading →
Sad to note that the House of the Dead on Ushers Quay in dear old Dublin has now closed and will not be available, this coming Bloomsday (16th June) for the wonderful Joycean dinner hosted by my great friend Brendan Kilty that were such a joy in the years gone by. This is a review... Continue Reading →
Sad to note that the House of the Dead on Ushers Quay in dear old Dublin has now closed and will not be available, this coming Bloomsday (16th June) for the wonderful Joycean dinner hosted by my great friend Brendan Kilty that were such a joy in the years gone by. This is a review... Continue Reading →
There’s this school in Bingham. The Toot Hill comprehensive school. Popular with the children of a large number of Nottingham commuters that have chosen to settle in this dormitory village, more of a town these days, set halfway between Nottingham and Newark, just off the old Roman Road known as the Fosse way, or now,... Continue Reading →
The medieval lanes and streets and alleys provide welcome breaks of shade from the heat and the sun, and occasionally from the crocodile lines of tourist groups faithfully following their guides. But you tire easily for you are not so young now, the back hurts a bit, the legs ache, the sun is hot, you... Continue Reading →
When I were but a lad in Gibraltar the RAF had a squadron of Shackleton bombers. Quite big beasts that resembled the old Lancaster bombers of WWII and which had a deep throaty roar as they flew over the rock out to sea. Down at Europa Point alongside the lighthouse there was a kind of... Continue Reading →
I lived up Sneinton way. The Union office was up in Sherwood Rise . Driving to work took me across the St. Anns estate and up Curzon Street, near the Victoria Shopping Centre,. Curzon Street, at that time was just an open space of derelict buildings, the last remains of the St. Anns slum clearance... Continue Reading →
Used my bus pass for the first time today. Caught the No: 13 from outside of the Guinness brewery at St. James’s Gate; top deck front seat, out of the liberties through scruffy scruffy, down at heel Thomas Street, out onto the glories of Christchurch and then down the gentle slope of Dame Street in... Continue Reading →
I am not working this year. Not that I have retired, the official reason is that I have taken “leave of absence” from the law and in theory will return to the law at the end of the year. Whether I will or not remains an open question, for I am very tired now. I... Continue Reading →
Dear Feedback, What the fuck is going on. For fucks sake. The Bee Bee fucking Cee, using the fucking F word in the fucking title of a fucking programme! What the fuck happened to fucking standards? The fucking BBC, for fucks sake! They used to set the fucking standards for the fucking use of the... Continue Reading →
When we choose our members of parliament we have a number of expectations of them which must be fairly common to all MP’s of all parties. They include that they are fairly robust characters who can handle themselves in most social situations; that they have some experience of life and all that life... Continue Reading →
Viersen. It must have been a small agricultural village at one time. Set in vast acres of open fields of sugar beet and potatoes which ran all the way to the Dutch border. It became a satellite village, or a town, to Monchen Gladbach but I suspect it retained its primary agricultural nature until the... Continue Reading →
Broadsides - A collection of bits and pieces 