It is a shameful truth about me that I am often late. My sister will tell you that I’d be late for my own funeral, which is unfair and not wholly accurate because mostly I do turn up for things and I’m good with public transport. What is the case, though, is that from an …
Like many of us, I imagine, I’ve chosen to season any residual Christmas jollity still hanging around in the New Year with a healthy dose of relentless misery. I’m speaking, of course of, Andrew Davies’ brilliant adaptation of Victor Hugo’s crushingly grim Les Misérables. So far it’s been a grindingly joyless miracle of latent and …
When I was young I used to run cross-country. I was part of a great team. We won races. We took home trophies. I was not, however, a great runner. I was the makeweight in a team full of talent. My brother Bill, on the other hand, was a proper sportsman. He played cricket and …
I went camping this summer, in Dorset with my eldest, Miriam and my youngest, Silas. We pitched camp in our usual busy field a couple of miles outside Swanage, but then on our way to town for fish and chips, we passed a beautiful, empty, wide-open site, and our heads were turned. So back we …
One Christmas, many years ago, I was given a pair of slippers. They were black leather with suede soles and they were butter-soft, the most comfortable things I have ever worn. So I wore them a lot, every day, until they were full of holes and beyond repair. But I couldn’t bear to part with …
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 …