Sun cream and skiing holidays

"What's that smell?" I said. "It's the gorse," Roger smiled. " Smells like coconut, doesn't it? Like sun cream..." He was right. The thick yellow gorse which hemmed the path gave off an intense scent that was distinctly coconutty, and like he said, reminiscent of scented sun cream. It was so strong that it was… Continue reading Sun cream and skiing holidays


Can’t read, can’t write

Tennis balls against a brick wall.Heavy rain against cold glass.Curling flame bullied by breeze. Impenetrably packaged scissors.The last pencil with a broken lead.Empty white page... Can't read; the words won't go in.Can't write; the words won't come out.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

I was introduced properly to Charles Dickens when I was twelve in a classroom directly beneath the sports hall cum theatre and which shared a corridor with two of my three favourite places in the school: the tiny one-room library and the stationery cupboard. One of the original Arthur Rackham illustrations for A Christmas Carol… Continue reading It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…