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My title will offend, I know. Almost as much as would a blog of 1800, if one existed, that carried the title ‘Against religion’. But bear with me, even if sport is your religion. I want to argue, why, contrary…
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Lasseter’s last ride
Our school was just across the road. I could have left our little brick house, Corton Cottage, at one minute to nine and still have been in time for lessons. The school building was small, built of warm stone, and…
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R.J. Derfel ar lyfrgelloedd
Cofir R.J. Derfel heddiw yn bennaf fel y dyn a fathodd y term ‘Brad y Llyfrau Gleision’, teitl ei ddrama a gyhoeddwyd yn 1854, saith mlynedd ar ôl yr adroddiad drwg-enwog gan y llywodraeth ar gyflwr addysg yng Nghymru. Ond…
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Clearing out
I’ve been clearing out. Clearing cupboards in the front room, full of books, files, magazines, papers, photos, games, maps and other detritus. Many of them have been there since the cupboards and the bookshelves above them were built some thirty…
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The poet and the mapmaker
As the Russian government continues its murderous and destructive war on Ukraine, it seems a good time to turn to a voice for peace. Here’s a poem from the time of what is still called, mistakenly, the English Civil War,…
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Mysteries of Paraclete
Five minutes’ walk away, where Summerland Lane reduces to a narrow neck of tarmac to meet Newton Road, is Paraclete Chapel. In every respect it’s unremarkable, except for one thing, its highly unusual name. Till recently I’ve not thought much…
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The bookseller of Stromness
Hanging on a wall in the public library in Stromness, where you can sit in an easy chair and enjoy a view of the waterfront through the picture window, is an oil painting called The bookseller of Stromness. It was…
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Heirloom
It’s made out of a single piece of oak and sits upright on the window sill, though its planed rear and central hole suggest it was originally intended to hang on a wall. The head of an adult man or…
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Tlodi, nawr a ddoe
Beth yw tlodi? Am flynyddoedd bellach fe’i diffinnir yn y wlad hon fel ‘tlodi cymharol’. Hynny yw, dych chi’n dlawd os ydych chi’n derbyn incwm sy’n 60% yn is nag incwm cyfartal pobl eich cymuned. Dyw hi ddim yn syndod…
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Conscience wakes?
Of the many analogies used to make sense of Boris Johnson’s inglorious reign, the circus is probably the commonest. No ordinary circus, of course, but one where witless acrobats fall headlong from their tightropes, lions run amok and maul defenceless…