I have a friend, Jem, who is a juggler. He’s very good at it. I’m not. I’m a rubbish juggler. I’ve tried it. I’ve even tried quite hard, so I’m aware of how difficult it is to tell jokes while juggling, juggle fruit of amusingly different shapes and sizes, juggle on stilts. It’s very hard …
The end of term comes in dribs and drabs in our house. Miriam and Esther finished ages ago because they’re at University. I’m still in Oxford, but all the students have gone. Sam has been taking exams so he finished before Silas and Linus, whose schools drag on till the end of this week. And …
Dear Chris, This is a difficult letter to write. Indeed, I’ve never written a ‘Dear Chris’ letter before but believe me when I say that it’s not you, it’s me. The thing is, I came in here a few weeks ago, as I occasionally do – but this time it was not to see you. …
I read the news today. Oh boy. Some days, I wish the news really were fiction and today is a morning like that, because it’s a morning, like too many these days, when the news seems barely believable. The dreadful fire now burning in West London is too awful to contemplate, and the thought that …
Last night at our house we were watching TV. But this was not old-school, corner-of-the-sitting-room, collective TV. Oh no. This was modern, hand-selected TV, bespoke TV, individually curated for a unique, personal experience. In other words, Susie and I were both tired and both watching catch-up. I was watching the one with the Irish teacher …
I’ve been thinking about remembering. I flatter myself to think that I have a good memory, for the useless as well as the useful. Sometimes they’re the same thing. For instance, I once won £20 from a quiz machine at Heston services on the M4 for knowing which sport is associated with the Drysdale Cup. …
I went to America last week, to do some work at the University of Wyoming in a town called Laramie. I had the best time, talking at the University Art Museum, seeing friends and colleagues. Laramie is a legendary place. Jimmy Stewart starred in a movie called The Man From Laramie and Butch Cassidy was …
When I was small, I didn’t like the dark. It wasn’t that I thought there were monsters lurking; it was a physical thing. I didn’t like the darkness of it, the thickness, the feeling of it closing around me. I didn’t like the unknown silence of it, the quietness into which my own heartbeat might …
I’ve been thinking about football. This has been a great season for the underdog and we've reveled in the exploits of Sutton United and Lincoln City, but at Champion Hill, the home of Dulwich Hamlet on Saturday afternoon I witnessed a feat to match any of them. Picture the scene. It's the quarter final of …
Last Friday, I got up in the dark at 4.30 as I usually do. I wasn’t happy. I don’t like getting up in the dark. But as I rooted around for socks (I know my socks by touch) I felt the socks I most love: cashmere, grey with blue toes and heels and soft as …