Author Archives: memoirsofahusk
Oh dear. I can’t be bothered
You’d never think it was winter. Windy, yes, but not exactly freezing. And so many golfers out today. Wearing black. Littering the landscape like crows on a field. And here, inside our tree-house, our weekend-golfer-viewing gallery, it’s cosy, warm and … Continue reading
Blowing in to an old new world
A Strauss waltz dances from the breakfast radio. Outside, the headless firs wave their arms like frenzied violinists in some arboreal orchestra. The tall birches, double basses of the tree world, waver and shiver, constrained by their stature – and … Continue reading
Standing by a Steinway on a Tuesday afternoon
Bear with me. This might start off sounding unutterably Hampstead – and if you’re not English, I’m talking about a smart, wealthy part of London where luvvies and literati hang out. The wealthy ones, the ones who’ve made it, or … Continue reading
A bicycle, a gate and a lawnmower. Scratching beneath the surface of suburbia
I’m out on my bike. A gorgeous day – cold and crisp as a shiny new apple, fresh from the fridge. Wearing my helmet, of course, so can’t exactly feel the wind in my hair, but never mind. ‘Urrreugh.’ I … Continue reading
Five have fun in Africa. A lost work by Enid Blyton?
‘Africa 2013. Countdown to the Rains.’ ‘Africa’? Just, ‘Africa’? OK, so it’s a common form of shorthand. But not one you find in Europe. I mean, imagine it, ‘Europe 2013: snow’s on its way. Join us as the ski season … Continue reading
Above us, only sky?
I’m sitting at my desk. Tears are close to the surface. I’m having trouble identifying keys that aren’t in the direct glow of the screen. I keep pressing ‘insert’ instead of ‘delete’ and my words start vanishing as I type, … Continue reading
In paradisum
It’s the long hot summer of 1976. June. Finals are over, at last. I wave a temporary farewell to my friend Ros. She’s looking forward to the autumn, a postgraduate course in Cambridge. To holidaying in France with her brother. … Continue reading
