Wait until next year

Putting off what could be done tomorrow, today

Strangely Warmed

Walking past the Barbican, towards the City, I came across a plaque. I enjoy these official, and often semi-official, markers of London’s past.

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The Building Game

While I am out and about I sometimes play a little game for my amusement.

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Teeming Black Scrawl

Last week I read W.G. Sebald’s A Place In The Country, a collection of essays on his favourite writers. Within I found the beginnings of a roadmap for writing:

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A beery firmament

Patrick Sullivan's Bar

As I worked on my review of Dušan Šarotar’s Panorama, I gathered quotations and I gathered reflections, and did my best to marry the two, one supporting the other. It took me back to my school days, my university days too, the point where writing feels more like brickwork than creativity, but generally an exercise where with a bit of thought and sweat you can produce something reasonably sturdy. Read the rest of this entry »

I hope I can quickly learn the language

In my early teenage years I would read Melody Maker and listen to John Peel, trying to piece together all this music out there, all this music that didn’t appear on Top of the Pops, that wasn’t piped through the supermarket speakers, that wasn’t in my parents’ record collection. Read the rest of this entry »