Approaching Nirvana

Heroes are strange beasts, as is memory. Nirvana never were particularly the former for me, but are very much part of the latter. Retrospectively 25 years on almost to the day it's still quite nice to know you were present at the stuttering birth of a new squalling...

Before the NHS…

I've microblogged before about this on Flickr years ago using some family photos that belonged to my mother which you can see scattered about this page. The Health Service is quite important in our family. This was particularly true for my mother, who was involved...

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...

What remains – ghosts 1

I’ve built up a bow wave of subjectivity over the years about ghosts. I grew up in a very lapsed-methodist household, my mum’s background was very low-church, she liked singing hymns in the kitchen at Sunday tea time. My dad sometimes, but very rarely made me say...

Trench Fever

I thought it was about time I did a bit of quantifying, I've done a something in a previous piece here, which scratches at the back of a story but only tells the penultimate episode of it not the rest, there's other bits clanging and banging about on the internet that...

What’s THIS for…!

You might recognise this scene for two reasons; Firstly you live in Norwich and have walked down either Duke Street or Oak Street or have sauntered down this chopped off continuation of Colegate beside St Miles Church with it's lovely flushwork and tracery. Secondly,...

Persistence of memory

Present views of combined pasts

What remains – ghosts 1

What remains – ghosts 1

I’ve built up a bow wave of subjectivity over the years about ghosts. I grew up in a very lapsed-methodist household, my mum’s background was very low-church, she liked singing hymns in the kitchen at Sunday tea time. My dad sometimes, but very rarely made me say...

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Brighton, before the fall

Brighton, before the fall

When I was a kid and on into my teens I used to dream about the stars moving. I mean, I know they are actually moving, but then I could see them in 3D shifting and jittering, I could see the satellites and spacecraft in amongst them like an animated model right there...

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Babylon’s Burning

Babylon’s Burning

I’m reasonably open about the fact that I have a mental health condition, I suffer from anxiety. I talk about it occasionally on social media, friends know, but I haven’t ever made any kind of thing about it apart from writing a thinly veiled piece about facing fear...

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Cambridge – persistence of memory

Cambridge – persistence of memory

My mum grew up here. Her and therefore my ancestors were here for hundreds of years working as maids and cleaners, labourers, cartmen, and brickies, laying the railways, further back pulling the root veg through the surface of the peaty soils to the north or tending...

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Sucking Eggs

Sucking Eggs

  My mum is dead, she died over ten years ago at a 'ripe old age' after period of massive emotional instability and virtual madness bought on by a rather large stroke. It was a hinterland for her and us, her children. It lasted 18 months from the onset, the...

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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 English Electric Lightning; the cold-war emblems, a sliver flash glossily belting past on high, occasionally breaking the sound barrier with that window-rattling,...

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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...

read more
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 it's somewhere else. We tend to end...

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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 me. And I've...

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It’s beginning to and back again

It’s beginning to and back again

We went to London. We do this journey quite often, from the East it is a fairly routine trip, a day out; one of those the ever shortening distances that only just hold us all apart. We have offspring who have set up shop there in the expense and dull glitter, the piss...

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Approaching Nirvana

Approaching Nirvana

Heroes are strange beasts, as is memory. Nirvana never were particularly the former for me, but are very much part of the latter. Retrospectively 25 years on almost to the day it's still quite nice to know you were present at the stuttering birth of a new squalling...

read more
Vanishing Point: Rosebeke

Vanishing Point: Rosebeke

A strange day. I've been working very loosely on an ongoing project called 'Vanishing Points' for a while. I'm a bit of a fan of VPs, lots of artists are as a way of leading the eye into compositions, focussing the viewers mind. Kubrick for instance is a master of the...

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