If there is any validity in the saying that “every picture is worth a thousand words” then my hoard of old postcards could generate sufficient information to create an entire book. Whether of fact or fiction is open to debate. As reported in previous posts on this topic, two attempts to match the facts recorded…
An author who has been using a software program to “edit” her novel has now accepted my quote to complete the job. As she commented in her email confirming the arrangement: Although ProWritingAid has trained me to write better English, it cannot – make words flow like you can give feedback pick up loopholes get…
Souvenir of a visit that is beyond recall. Yesterday’s gone. But it lingers on, the details not forgotten unless it was one of those total wipe-out booze-laden occasions. Same for last week, the month that has passed and, hopefully, the highlights at least, of the year before this one. All are within recall in varying degrees…
Postcard from Belgrade in 1963. ‘A week back in London, then to Lebanon, Jordan etc’ We all know about the past being a foreign country [LP Hartley, The Go-Between] and in recent days I have come to realise how true that oft-quoted phrase can be. A large handful of well-worn postcards, wrapped in a torn plastic…
We all know about the past being a foreign country [LP Hartley, The Go-Between] and in recent days I have come to realise how true that oft-quoted phrase can be. A large handful of well-worn postcards, wrapped in a torn plastic bag, have taken me back down the years and stirred memories that until now have…
Home! Where my Berry ancestors once lived. Researching family history is a minefield for the novice and the unprepared. This lesson was quickly learned with my first foray into searching the archives in the hope of finding clues to my lately discovered Welsh ancestry. To contact any Public Records Office or similar repository and merely…
Dilemma upon dilemma. Indecision resolved by decisions, which next day are quickly reversed. Back to square one. Is this the mental turmoil that all sportspeople face as the body slows and energy fades? The deciding when to quit. Common wisdom says the clever ones know when to stop. They accept the situation for what it…
Now, I want to make myself perfectly clear … There must be no misunderstanding … Make no mistake about this … Blah, blah, blah. Such well-worn phrases. So overused. Every day, someone, somewhere is prefacing their remarks with such statements of clarity and precision. And they are usually people of great (self-)importance whose pronouncements are…
The elephant is back in the room, wearing his tinsel, Santa hat and stupid grin.
Where will it all end? When will the unwanted guardians who loom over everything we do give us our lives back? Today we have been warned of the health hazards in that time-honoured childhood pleasure of licking the bowl at cake-making time. Gawd help us. If that were so, I should have keeled over decades…