In the distant light of the hallway I grab a pair of socks from the drawer and unbundle them as I walk to the kitchen. My feet shuffle in their mocassins, still half-awake, while six feet higher up my brain decants the day. Breakfast, sandwiches, send the boys off to school, a couple of phone … Continue reading The memory-sock
The pandemic was giving everybody – rich and poor, young and old – a dose of isolation. And I was a veteran of isolation. I knew things would get worse, but eventually better. I knew many people would suffer and most of their suffering would go unseen. The main thing was not to despair.
At first, when the shutdown was announced, I joked that my lifestyle as a widowed parent had become fashionable. If a government minister hadn’t announced on television that the bars and restaurants were closing I'm not sure I’d have noticed. After self-isolating for years, I felt as if the world had come to me. I … Continue reading Coronavirus: one faceless killer can conceal another
Copies of De tijd die we nog dachten te hebben on sale at Paagman in Scheveningen. The Dutch translation of All the Time We Thought We Had, with the title De tijd die we nog dachten te hebben (I like the fact that the Dutch don't capitalise book titles) has been out for a couple … Continue reading Now available in Dutch
...the beasts are chained and subdued, serenaded by a man playing one of four pianos rising from the sand like stranded ships...
I am in a library full of writers. An exclusive audience of around 15 men, seated across from me on hard chairs, are scrutinising my memoir, All The Time We Thought We Had. There is an expectant buzz in the air but the tone on both sides is respectful throughout. They ask the kind of … Continue reading Time inside
We’ve been sitting at this table for two hours and 37 minutes and already I know this date won’t end well. You have been agreeable company, even if you dwelled a little too long on the torturous break-up with your ex. The food has been a delight – vibrant, spicy and not so abundant that … Continue reading The Ring
One of my most memorable escapades in journalism was interviewing one of the quintet of Italian writers who go by the collective name of the Wu Ming Foundation for The Herald. At one point I asked, playfully, if they deliberately chose titles for their books that were untranslatable – such as Q and Manituana. I … Continue reading Neologicasm, or the joy of making up words
Here’s a list of Father’s Day presents, culled at random from the internet: drones, ties, DIY tools, thermos flasks, ties, home brew sets, wireless speakers. All of them, to a greater or lesser extent, underline the image of the man of the house as someone whose natural environment is outside the house, whether it’s in … Continue reading Let’s ditch the sexist myth of the hapless male
2018 is going to be publication year. I ought to be excited. I should probably be ecstatic. For around a decade 'have something published' headed my list of new year's resolutions with the grinding recurrence of a Cliff Richard Christmas single. And now it's actually happening, and my primary feeling is apprehension. At the risk … Continue reading My first publication year