Author Archives: memoirsofahusk

Leaving

There are so many ways of leaving, of ending things, aren’t there? Paul Simon sang of fifty. Which reminds me of ‘Still Crazy After All These Years.’ Which reminds me of a sad end to a strange relationship. But that’s … Continue reading

Posted in Thinking, or ranting, or both, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Madonna of the Penultimate Train

Not the last train, the one before. Packed, but not rowdy. Not teetering, precariously, on the border between alcoholic hilarity and boozed belligerence, like the last train of the night. The seats are arranged in fours. Rows of two-seats-facing-two-seats running … Continue reading

Posted in pen portraits | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

A winter’s Eve, on the train

Her hair is glossy-pale. Slicked across her head into a neat ponytail with a hint of a curl at the end. Part blonde, part blue, pale blue. Colours of a clear winter’s sky on the eastern horizon, seconds after the … Continue reading

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A change of seasonal plan

Well. What a difference a day makes. The last twenty four little hours have seen me race to the top of Creative Peak. Happy and dancing, like Maria in the Sound of Music. Without the voice. Then a gust from … Continue reading

Posted in Thinking, or ranting, or both | Tagged , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Stories…

It’s the time of year for dark nights, warm hearts and magical tales – well, in the northern hemisphere and its cooler climes it is! I am busy working on my annual offering of seasonal tales, my head buzzing with … Continue reading

Posted in Fiction, probably | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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

Posted in Thinking, or ranting, or both, Zambia | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

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

Posted in Art, jaunts & going out, Britain now & then, Lancashire & the golf coast, Liverpool, Nature notes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments