Here’s what I’ve been thinking about lately: not knowing; having a blank slate; feeling uninformed and therefore not able to put forward a considered opinion; having hardly any of the answers; not being sure what I am writing about. It’s not fashionable these days to say you don’t know, or that you haven’t made up … Continue reading Knowing Nothing
“I wandered lonely as a cloud” – isn’t it amazing to think that when Wordsworth wrote that line it was new and arresting? As fresh as a daisy, which was once also an original phrase. It’s a tricky thing this word spinning, tricky, that is, to come up with fresh ideas and novel combinations of … Continue reading How Romantic
I had never heard the phrase before and then (how does this happen?) I came across it again within twenty-four hours. ‘Happiness writes white,’ he said. ‘When I am content, I have no inspiration. Ease causes the muse to fly.’ I didn’t want to believe it, that one needs to be tortured in order to … Continue reading Happiness Writes White
Occasionally in a charity shop I will see someone’s life collection, and I will pause to nurse a couple of seconds of heartbreak that this is where it has ended up. Thimbles: I saw about sixty of those once, porcelain, in a wooden cabinet all divided into tiny squares, a home for each one. Each … Continue reading Collection
‘Who is your ideal reader?’ It was the question posed by one of The Saturdays – the given name of the five of us who zoom-write at the weekend. Hard to say, was my answer, easier to say who my ideal writer is. After all, I’ve thought about that, I’ve even acted upon it: told … Continue reading Dear Reader
Having been alerted to my own haphazard use of the full stop I now see it abused everywhere. There is one particular book I am reading. In this book it is placed most unconventionally. Places where you wouldn’t expect. Everywhere. Are full stops. Littered with profligacy. Strewn. Thoughtlessly. Needless to say, it’s driving me mad, … Continue reading You Never Learn To Do It
Bertrand Russell, philosopher, mathematician, historian, writer, essayist (annoying all-rounder), wrote – at a sprightly 81 years old – a famous article entitled, “How to Grow Old”. He himself was to grow much older, but he can’t have known, when he was writing it, that he would live to the ripe old age of 97. On … Continue reading Life Is a River
Is there anything new under the sun? Is anything we write or paint or compose truly original, or is every creative act influenced (hopefully for the good) by what has gone before, so that what we produced has been re-learned, repeated, tweaked? Apparently whenever W.H. Auden read something in a book that he liked or … Continue reading Good Enough to Steal
I overuse brackets (I think). When I read back over something I’ve written, out they jump out from the text like a spring lawn filled with dandelions. There are too many. Time to do some weeding, remove a few, until I weaken and reinstate my sideway smiles… ). Entirely unsure as to when and where … Continue reading (In Parentheses)
‘Put the phone down and live in the moment!’ – hasn’t that been the refrain for some time now? I get it, and mostly I try to do it. However, from time to time, I do love to excuse myself from the present and become so absorbed in capturing the moment that I’m removed from … Continue reading Orphan Photographs
My Edinburgh Press 