Monthly Archives: November 2018
The other end of the First World War. ‘Tipperary mbali sana, sana’
Imagine a human chain of sixteen and a half thousand people, mostly barefoot and carrying heavy burdens – sixty pounds, twenty seven kilos – on their heads. Some pulling carts. Walking up to fifteen miles a day under the searing … Continue reading
In the company of twitchers
Solitary men. Mostly. Some in camouflage clothing. Cameras with long lenses. Tripods slung over shoulders. Patient people. Often, it seems to me, not quite sad, but resigned. And a closeness amid the isolation. A willingness to share as they seek … Continue reading
In a muddy field near Liverpool, he lies
It was a 45 minute drive. I pulled on wellies, ready to tromp through mud to take a picture. The least I could do, in the circumstances. I could see no obvious entry point so went to the office labelled … Continue reading
A sparkler, for Emily
November the fifth. Monday. The big public firework displays have already blossomed and died. The weekend nights whizzing and banging. Pulsing with sights that vie with the northern lights for colour, but cannot touch them for magic. But today is … Continue reading
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 