On Christmas Morning

The neighbourhood and the almost ritual walk around it that has defined my year. In lockdown times walking into town has been only occasional but this walk, around the local streets, has been my meditation and my breathing space. From home down to Smithdown, along Penny Lane to Greenbank Road, through Ibbotson’s Lane, round the …

Home Life During a Pandemic

28th March – Week One How are you doing? Aside from all the very big questions about whether you’ve got a home anyway, and sufficient income to keep you and it together for we don’t know how long, how are you doing? Also assuming you and whoever might be locked down with you are well, …

Soon but not yet we will leave here

Soon but not yet we will leave here, this house that’s been the longest time and home we’ve ever known, or probably ever will know. This turning left out of, or uphill right out of at the beginning of every walk. The knowing the bin days and which week is which. A catalogue of familiars …

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. …