The Writer’s House

After I wrote about my friend the artist Emma Rushton’s house a couple of weeks ago, some other friends suggested I might like to do a series where I look around some other people’s houses. They thought this could be an interesting development from other writings and work I’ve done on, oh, the meaning of […]

Alone in Silence

Sarah has gone away, sea kayaking this time, and I’m alone again. Not lonely though. I find I rarely get lonely. Which is just as well as I find myself alone a lot. Usually I’m alone here in this peaceful house. This house where I’ve lived for twenty six years, the longest I’ve ever lived […]

A sense of place? Thinking about home

It was an instinctive reaction to a post on Twitter. A photograph of somewhere else that made me think about Liverpool. A sequence of posts in Italian had finally arrived in Liverpool translated as: “Naples is magical – a capital city without a country.” “I know how that feels’ was my immediate and instinctive response. […]