The workhorse and the charger

The workhorse and the charger

I lived in North Walsham as a kid. RAF Coltishall was only about 6 miles away. We all grew up with the Lightning; the cold-war emblems glossily belting past at high altitude, breaking the sound barrier with that window-rattling, deep, sonorous boom they are famed for....
9/11 – the years on

9/11 – the years on

Guest post from Louisa Griffith-Jones. Sometimes you just stumble across a remarkable piece of writing. Louisa posted this earlier today. I read it standing at a bus-stop, a lump in my throat. She is a friend, someone I remember from gigs in the early 1980s at UEA...
On the beach: Utah

On the beach: Utah

We’ve just been away. It didn’t take me very long to remember that I’m not very good at holidays. The vacancy of it all gets to me very quickly, I find it difficult to relax and conjure ‘fun’ up out of being somewhere just because...
Dear Dad…

Dear Dad…

I’ve resisted the urge to paint this incomplete picture for a while. But when I started writing this some months ago it would have been my dad’s birthday. This got me thinking about him and about how I’m heading towards the age he was when my mum had...