I am not a young man and so it’s a relief, midway along the journey of my life, to find I am mostly not lost in the dark forest. I can do my job. I have helped raise children I am proud of. I know how to hold a knife and fork. I am, at …
Category: Zoe Ball
Silence, 24.09.21
It used to be the case that our house was full of unaccountable noise. In the night, there were bangings and crashings. Doors opening and closing with tremendous force. Whispering voices in the small hours, then howls and sudden bursts of cackling laughter. It was like living in a horror movie and it was, frankly, …
Pot, 17.09.21
I bought a pot last week, while I was on holiday in Cornwall. It’s a simple pot: six inches of heavy stoneware, with a muted, speckled, grey-green glaze and faceted sides. There’s something ancient about it, something almost Japanese. But that’s enough Antiques Roadshow. Point is, it’s on my desk now, giving me enormous pleasure …
Glory, 28.07.21
Last December 8th, on a chilly, damp evening in South London, I experienced a sporting epiphany. It wasn’t the moment I finally realised I was never destined for Olympic glory. No. That had already come, many years earlier, when, in every sport I attempted, it quickly became clear that I would always be commended principally …
Reserve, 21.07.21
I had to go into the Ashmolean Museum Reserve Collections yesterday, to choose some objects to teach with next term. Now this is mostly very good. First of all, without giving away any crucial security secrets, the reserves are in a deep, dark basement, so it was relatively cool. And second, museum reserves are fundamentally …
Seal, 14.07.21
I came to the sea this week and I swam in it and was remade. It’s breathtaking, the sea: the scale and unspoken threat of it, the sheer blank, power of it. And this is no ordinary sea. This is the deep, grey North Sea of Northumberland. And these are no ordinary swimming places. These …
Cricket, 15.06.21
There are many things I am not good at. I am a terrible guitarist. I cannot draw. I am barely numerate. But of all the things I do badly, the one at which I suck the most is undoubtedly cricket. Now, I grew up watching my Dad play cricket and I longed to be good …
Allotment, 01.06.21
On Saturday, I went to visit my friend Julian at his allotment. It’s an unpromising scrap of South London tucked in behind a pub; a chaotic patchwork of plots nestling alongside the waterworks in the shadow of the prison. We sat for a couple of hours by Julian’s shed, hemmed in by peonies and ranunculus, …
Voice, 18.05.21
The future troubles me. I worry about all sorts of stuff. These are not global concerns. I’m good with the great shifts of human and planetary history. No. With me, it’s the little things. When I was waiting for my children to be born, I fretted over what we would call them, about whether they’d …
Hoodie, 23.03.21
The Census for England and Wales on Sunday was the first to record that my children are now all technically adults. This was the third time they’ve appeared in the census (and my sixth), each one a momentary snapshot of our individual and collective lives: who we are, what we are, where we are, where …