With three chapters of After the end written, I’m left questioning if it’s going in the right direction. In the past, I’ve written to a plan, detailed in advance. Now I’m trying a more informal, make-it-up-as-I-go-along way. The old way was easier, I knew what I had to write on any certain day, but too rigid. It’s early days; I’ll get the hang of it in a week or two…
A friend of mine, last Sunday, went to Dunkirk to take food, water and clothing to child refugees trying to survive. Many of these children were orphans, left to fend for themselves by parents who’d either died in wars, or who’d sent their children off in search of a future where no future existed in their war-torn country…
5 July 2017
Forgive the absence. A holiday in Mykonos, an enchanting Greek island where the sun seems to shine forever. Blue cloudless skies and shining blue seas with water so clear and clean you want to dive in. We ate fish so fresh it tasted as though it had been caught the same day – as fish should…
Jen and I laughed often, and at times cried together.
She’d come up behind me in the foyer of Tate Britain and tapped me on the shoulder.
I pity the leaf-man. He’s coming today and it’ll look as though no one has cleared a single leaf since he came last. They fall while I write, they fall while I eat, they fall while I sleep, and I know why autumn in America is called the fall.
If you haven’t been to York, go there. I’ve just returned from three days there. Apart from the splendid York Minster, the city has much charm, abundant historic beauty, and many good and varied restaurants.
I’ve just read the extraordinary good debut novel Mislaid by Nell Zinc.
A lively, refreshing read, full of electric sentences that shout out, brilliant dialogue, larger than life characters, and with an original, unusual plot.
Tomorrow, at midnight, Go Set a Watchman–the long awaited sequel to To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, probably the best book I’ve ever read–will be published.
As a tribute to Harper Lee, I’ve posted an article I read in last Friday’s edition of The Guardian by Alison Flood.
I woke to the sound of rushing water. Loud, like a flood. Occasional thuds, then quiet splashes, trickles even. Seconds of stillness before the same noises started up again, but in a different sequence. It was the sound of the sea, of waves rushing up and down the beach.