Michael Foley's book starts like this: Back in the days of local bookshops: Ottokar's in High Wycombe a magical place to browse and buy new; and a half-dozen excellent second-hand shops in Penn, and Princes Risborough. They were the good days, before Waterstone's. Now of course we have Amazon, eBay, WOB, Abebooks. I bought these… Continue reading Little Wittering
Category: Books
Stig and his Ma—what a Dump…
,,,inspired by today's crossword The Telegraph Cryptic Crossword assumes a level of cultural awareness from its dedicated followers: most strongly in all things British, but also anywhere in the English speaking world, with many place names and well-known words in the geography and languages of western europe. Place names like Nice in the south of… Continue reading Stig and his Ma—what a Dump…
Through Pain to Ecstasy or Suicide
I 've discovered a draft post, below. It 's dated April 2nd, 2025. Looking up my handwritten journal of that date, I find this page: I've been fascinated by the disparity between two books I've been reading: Colin Wilson's Outsider and Revelations of Divine Love, by Julian of Norwich. She's best known to the world… Continue reading Through Pain to Ecstasy or Suicide
Notes on the Design of Form, Part 1
I posted this on another site, on Jan 29th, ’23, not long before being rushed to hospital for a diagnosis and tricky spinal operation. Now, there's "all the time in the world" to get the job done properly; so long as impatience doesn't get the better of doing a proper job. Many years ago, when… Continue reading Notes on the Design of Form, Part 1
Reading as a mirror
Written on August 12th, 2012 ; with a PS added today, March 14th, 2026 Continued from Art is More than Life: I discover myself more in reading than writing. I don’t mean just reading the written word, but maybe studying the false emotions of an actor, reflected in his face*, for they are the mirror… Continue reading Reading as a mirror
Live by the Pen, Die by the Pen
A long-lost post from August 2nd, 2012 In the early years of this blog, I would dash off new posts with ease. I wasn’t setting out to be a writer, only to express the simple sweetness of life as I felt it in the moment, with a little speculative reflection thrown in. I was embarrassed… Continue reading Live by the Pen, Die by the Pen
Luck & Angelic Messengers
Written July 10th, 2008. Worth republishing for the conversations among readers. See the Comments section, below It rained continually yesterday, didn’t stop but went through varying intensities. It reached the point that everyone ignored the light drizzle. Before the day was over I was taking no notice of the moderate rain either. I was fixing… Continue reading Luck & Angelic Messengers
On Fresh Air Alone
Previously published on January 5th, 2015, a favourite reminiscence from my days working for Notts.* County Council , as described in this post If you want to go somewhere and enjoy an undisturbed smoke I suggest the Nineteen-Fifties. If you were actually around at the time, it’s no problem—wings of memory will take you and… Continue reading On Fresh Air Alone
The Secret Agent
Illustration: from the New York Times review of first edition, in 1907. I’d been reading a trio of Conrad’s sea stories: The Nigger of the Narcissus, Typhoon and The Shadow-Line. Two were about storms, one a calm; two about sailing ships, one steam; two about serious illness on board, one about the obstinacy of a captain. After these I… Continue reading The Secret Agent
They that go down to the sea in ships
I wrote most of this on August 24th, 2019, but never published it here till today. So it gives the chance to look at what the Bible means, what it's for, if you like. Sadly, NIV, the New International Version of the Bible, seems to come with a loud agenda, as blazoned on its back… Continue reading They that go down to the sea in ships
Inner and Outer Landscape
A rambling essay written on October 19th, 2014, not published here before I decided to go for my usual loaf of bread by a circuitous route, over the Pastures; or rather, my feet took me that way while I readied myself to share what I had to say to Olympus, my companion of the road,… Continue reading Inner and Outer Landscape
Robert Louis Stevenson on Gas Lamps
an extract from Virginibus Puerisque Closely following on this epoch of migratory lanthorns in a world of extinction, came the era of oil-lights, hard to kindle, easy to extinguish, pale and wavering in the hour of their endurance. Rudely puffed the winds of heaven; roguishly clomb up the all-destructive urchin; and, lo! in a moment… Continue reading Robert Louis Stevenson on Gas Lamps
The Story of Tools
I got this little volume of 44 pages from a book sale in West Wycombe Village Hall, many years ago. It's plain to see that it was specifically designed to help educate members of the Young Communist League appreciate the advantages of collectivism—as against the deadly enemy, Capitalism. Good for them, I say. This may… Continue reading The Story of Tools
To Paul, from Vincent
Remembering Paul Maurice Martin Paul writes: One time I think on another blog you jokingly referred to agreeing with me for a change. But I’m not convinced you disagree most of the time so much as that you have your own outlook on life. My sense is that you tend to respond less to the… Continue reading To Paul, from Vincent
Spell of the Sensuous
I last wrote about this book exactly 14 years ago. I started reading it again recently, leaving a bookmark on page 38, where it speaks of the felt contrast between "subjective" and "objective". Objective reality, the realm of orthodox science "was, according to Husserl, a theoretical construction, an unwarranted idealization of intersubjective experience." The "real… Continue reading Spell of the Sensuous
Van Loon’s Lives, and other stories
I got this from eBay with a very tattered cover. Not surprising as the book, first published in 1943, was printed in 1947. I've managed to restore the dust cover, using strips of 80gsm paper , water colours, black Sharpie and PVA adhesive, resulting in a reasonable job without spending more hours on it. You… Continue reading Van Loon’s Lives, and other stories
from an old notebook
from the first pages of a Pukka Pad bought in Jamaica, 2001. My copy of John Cowper Powys' Autobiography was given to me by Jacqueline Peltier John o'Saturn meets Women from earth (p206) Much of JCP’s Autobiography dances around the complex topic of his erotic preoccupations. If it were not complex, it would not occupy… Continue reading from an old notebook
catalogue of books continued…
These are some more of my favourite books, the kind you treasure and partially recall, without finding time to refresh your memory. But it's good to read other people's reviews, and recall the flavour of these very different volumes. ID shelf location author title pages description 1 MB3 desk left Sagittarius (Olga Miller) Quiver‘s Choice… Continue reading catalogue of books continued…
cataloguing books
Finally got back a good version of Excel, so it's possible to find my books and see what critics think of them. A mixed bag of favourites here: ID shelf location author title pages description (linked for reviews) 1 MB4 desk left Christopher Alexander A Pattern Language 1171 how to make a home to fit… Continue reading cataloguing books
Hymn of the Cherubim
Written in November 2018, never before published on Wayfarer's Notes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZQzW_QfPew Natalie was asking readers if they could identify the old-master original of one of the drawings she found in her papers from years ago: I spent an hour or two on this quest without success. At some point, I stumbled upon the piece by… Continue reading Hymn of the Cherubim
What looks after us…
... Providence or Angels? This piece was written in November 2018 I’ve been wanting to write about the role of angels in my life. Like most words in any language, it’s loaded with baggage going back millennia. Let’s strip off that heavy weight of meanings, leave it in a heap and walk lightly away. I… Continue reading What looks after us…
Giving Something Back
I wrote this in 2006, when social media were still young. Blogspot was the popular medium for bloggers, who habitually offered lists of other blogs they recommended. See for example Bryan White's Encyclopedia of Counting Sheep with his journal of dreams. Reading it again, I still hold to the view that blogging is a way… Continue reading Giving Something Back
Me, Myself, and I
Previously published on January 29th, 2016 The “I” is easily defined. It is what I mean when I say “I”. There is no confusion about it, no argument as to whether this “I” is real. René Descartes nailed it: cogito, ergo sum. Such simplicity has been wrecked by the introduction of “ego”, a weasel word… Continue reading Me, Myself, and I
Hannah Arendt on Action
Previously published on October 6th, 2015 My last post seemed to demand a follow-up, to set it in a wider context. It was a personal view as seen from this cottage in this valley. I said “I might be the only one to see it this way, or it may turn out to be universal.”… Continue reading Hannah Arendt on Action
A Feather on the Breath of God
I like opening extraordinary and special books at random, such as The Book of Disquiet (Pessoa), Centuries (Traherne) and Anam Ċara (O'Donohue). This is what came up when I did the same with our current book. It's the section titled CAUSES AND CURES, pp 108-11. The four elements That there are only four elements: There… Continue reading A Feather on the Breath of God
Cretinocracy
I found this on my computer as a Word document. Checking online, I discover it's from Museum without Walls, by Jonathan Meades We are surrounded by the greatest of free shows. Places. Most of them made by man, remade by man. Deserted streets, seething boulevards, teeming beaches, empty steppes, black reservoirs, fields of agricultural scrap,… Continue reading Cretinocracy
Tree of Life
First published on Blogger, Saturday March 17th, 2012 “If I can prevent just one person from watching this, it’ll have been worth suffering through it.” Thus begins a review of The Tree of Life by Kevin A Ranson, alias Grim D Reaper; unfortunately one which I didn’t read in time. I can’t blame Paula, from… Continue reading Tree of Life
When love conquers fear
originally published on 27 Feb 2016. It's the most moving of the pieces I've been privileged to write. Especially as I discovered Etty Hillesum "accidentally"; but like everything in my life I can't but think it was meant to happen While writing in my last about “Secret Strength” I had a strong desire to talk… Continue reading When love conquers fear
Like an Artist’s Brush
Originally posted on Blogger, February 19th 2010 I really haven’t got time to write anything here. This makes it all the more important to do it anyway. I write in my blog for the same reason others do—to discover what I really think. Think? I’m not referring to “detached thought”, that attempt to be rational… Continue reading Like an Artist’s Brush
Unblocking
Rescued from oblivion today I’ve been glad of the chance to edit some of Ghetufool’s work lately. Writing is something I’m driven to by an impulse that won’t be denied. So what to do when writer’s block strikes? Turn to religion, I suppose, as people do when they feel vulnerable and melancholy. A fellow-blogger* distinguishes… Continue reading Unblocking
Existence of God
I've thought about this question a few times recently in the night, and the answer would come promptly: what happens is what's meant to happen happens is supposed to happen, just for me. I cannot know what it's like for anyone else. That would be a matter of religious faith, which I'm not sure is… Continue reading Existence of God
Vincent van Gogh in Auvers
AUVERS 1890 ""He could not be persuaded to say when he would go. Not until May 16 did he wrench himself away, and then only after the sun had fallen and night had hidden the colours. In Paris, Theo, waiting anxiously day by day, suddenly received a telegram; Vincent was on the night train.… Continue reading Vincent van Gogh in Auvers
What books…
...would you read over and over again? I’ll take some time to think about this, but it’s likely to be an autobiography… Later, after further thought, I hit upon two fictional memoirs: Such is Life, by Tom Collins, Memoirs of an Australian cattle drover, “philosopher and rogue”, each chapter being the expansion from memory of… Continue reading What books…
A Cowardly Idle Fool
This post was rescued from perpetual-lab.blogspot.com as made available on the Internet Archive, 13 years after it was written What is this life, if full of care, We have no time to stand and stare? (W. H Davies, “Leisure”.) Go to the ant, thou sluggard. Consider her ways and be wise. (Proverbs 6:6) I’ve gone… Continue reading A Cowardly Idle Fool
Recycling via the Salvation Army
Lately I've been donating dozens of books to the Sally Army. I brought a few more yesterday and on the way out noticed they have started giving away books, presumably deeming them unsaleable. The other day I found a book I’d recently donated in the pile—Against the Current, by Isaiah Berlin. When I pointed this out,… Continue reading Recycling via the Salvation Army
Why we do what we do
I was quite startled by a programme on the radio, especially the following transcribed excerpt. It’s a tiny fraction of a heavy book—literally*. I picked it up in the bookshop: not bedtime reading without strong arms.† Yet in a few words it covers pleasure, happiness, the meaning of life—and how to make the most of… Continue reading Why we do what we do
2nd Letter from Ward 1
dialect in an old Caribbean country The other side
The Sex Life of Thomas Traherne
Abridged from ‘High Delights that satisfy all Appetites’: Thomas Traherne and Gender Jean E. Graham The College of New Jersey graham@tcnj.edu The poetry of Thomas Traherne (written sometime before his death in 1674) has often seemed purely and innocently devotional in comparison with that of George Herbert, John Donne, or Richard Crashaw, poets whose religious… Continue reading The Sex Life of Thomas Traherne
Touched by the Printed Word
First published on Feb. 25th, 2009 I learned to read at my grandmother’s knee, at four years old. We used a Victorian primer, Reading without Tears: it proved itself worthy of the name and I worked through it in a few days, mostly on my own. I remember being frustrated with the word “parlour” near… Continue reading Touched by the Printed Word
Helpful advice to men—from the 16th Century
from On the power of the imagination, an essay by Michel Montaigne, translated by J M Cohen: "I have personal knowledge of the case of a man for whom I can answer as for myself, and who could not fall under the least suspicion impotence or being under a spell. He had heard a comrade… Continue reading Helpful advice to men—from the 16th Century
The Origins of Speech, according to Wittgenstein
THE BROWN BOOKI Augustine, in describing his learning of language, says that he was taught to speak by learning the names of things. It is clear that who-ever says this has in mind the way in which a child learns such words as "man", "sugar", "table", etc. He does not primarily think of such words… Continue reading The Origins of Speech, according to Wittgenstein
Night Thoughts
I’m stuck. I don’t just mean stuck in some detailed area of life, as if performing some tricky or critical task and suddenly realizing I need three hands. That would be exciting enough. I mean globally stuck: my “I” suddenly immobilized whilst grappling with the entire universe. It’s one of those situations where we say… Continue reading Night Thoughts
Laughter: The Best Medicine
I had intended to call this post "Death is Now My Friend", misremembering the title of an Inspector Morse novel "Death Is Now My Neighbour". The inspiration arose from daily awareness of old age. Sometimes it seems like a steep slope, whereas midlife can seem like a vast plateau, in which we imagine its indefinite… Continue reading Laughter: The Best Medicine
George Santayana
I came across his name when I was 17, but since then I've never seen it again till now: in the same book I borrowed, back in 1959. Despite extensive reading in the spheres of philosophy and religion since then, I've never come the name since, except in the book I borrowed then. I was… Continue reading George Santayana
Housewifery
HOUSEWIFERY is the efficient running of a house, and embraces problems of widely different natures. It includes the problem of running the house economically, seeing that the money available is spent to the best purpose. It includes keeping the house clean, for cleanliness and hygiene are the basis of healthy living. It includes a knowledge… Continue reading Housewifery
Fuller just got Emptier
I've been cataloguing my books. They're scattered across the house. Some years ago I got rid of all the IKEA shelves and built my own, as a tribute to this cherished collection. Every volume has its own tale to tell: how was it acquired, why and when? Sometimes memory fails: the tale is lost. Which… Continue reading Fuller just got Emptier
Grasping the Sky
Anthony O’Hear is a philosopher by trade. The latest of his many books is titled Transcendence, Creation and Incarnation: From Philosophy to Religion (Transcending Boundaries in Philosophy and Theology); leaving us in no doubt that he’s an academic addressing other academics. Every chapter has its own cluster of end-notes. He’s read every philosopher I’ve heard of, and refers… Continue reading Grasping the Sky
Burgess on Lawrence—with Time for a Tiger
© 1986 The International Anthony Burgess Foundation. What follows is an edited version of an essay that appeared in the Writers’ Monthly in 1986: Flame into Being: The life and work of D. H. Lawrence, first published in 1985, will be reissued by Galileo Publishing in June Your editor has asked me to give you… Continue reading Burgess on Lawrence—with Time for a Tiger
How Religions Began
Note on Wednesday 17th August, 2025: I have scant recollection of writing this post, but then, I’m 15 years more elderly than then, and maybe should be forgiven. I wonder if any reader can relate to Simone Weil’s esoteric musings? Do tell what you think, in a comment. Or several, it would be good to… Continue reading How Religions Began
A Graceful Retreat
This is to say thank you to all readers and especially to Ellie Clayton, Phil Ebersole, IanInverness and Michael Peverett, for your comments on my recent Simone Weil posts. Also to those who clicked on “like”. Most especially to those who remained silent. It’s all valuable feedback. It’s become clear that reading Gravity and Grace is not… Continue reading A Graceful Retreat
Simone Weil on Evil
The text below is a bold rendering in idiomatic English of Simone Weil's La Pesanteur et laGrâce, chapter 15 "Le mal". Much could be said to introduce the author and her writings, not to mention the approach I've taken, which some may condemn as a paraphrase. My view is that the language of French intellectuals… Continue reading Simone Weil on Evil
Simone Weil on Politics & Justice
to Phil Ebersole, demonstrating Simone Weil's deep commitment as a thinker and activist; as well as, I suggest, her particular relevance to a world which has lost its once-revered guiding principles. See our exchange of comments in my last. ************* This is the last section of her essay on Human Personality: the Just and the… Continue reading Simone Weil on Politics & Justice
Gravity and Grace, by Simone Weil
See this article: The Famous Book she Never Wrote Excerpts: Every natural impulse of the soul is governed by laws analogous to physical gravity: except only grace. We must always expect things to turn out as if pulled downwards by their own weight, unless the supernatural comes into play. There are just two forces in… Continue reading Gravity and Grace, by Simone Weil
Guided Randomness
I’ve often asked myself “Do you believe in God?” but never got an answer, only that it’s an unanswerable question. A better one would be “What do you believe in?” One has to search within oneself, but not for some borrowed ideas and expressions, some flag of convenience to sail under and dodge the challenge. One… Continue reading Guided Randomness
Thomas Traherne: his outlook on life
An essay by Frances Towers in 1920, a few years after the first publication of manuscripts by Thomas Traherne from the 17th century. BETWEEN the covers of the Centuries of Meditation lies a spiritual kingdom. It has a close affinity with certain other kingdoms of the spirit, and the wanderer who crosses that threshold is conscious of… Continue reading Thomas Traherne: his outlook on life
Joyful Expressions?
I suppose theology is the study of what God is and isn’t. I’ve never looked into Thomas Aquinas, but am grateful for an excerpt from Why Rousseau Was Wrong*: Its positive attitude reminds me of a quote from Thomas Traherne recently published on this blog†. The excerpt above came from a summary‡ of how St Thomas… Continue reading Joyful Expressions?
Akin
Gerald Bullett, anthologist of The Testament of Light, writes this of the above excerpt:
Humble
Dostoevsky, from Father Zossima’s discourse in The Brothers Karamazov
Generous
from Miguel de Unamuno, The Life of Don Quixote and Sancho, tr. Homer P. Earle
Blissful
Wordsworth, from Intimations of Immortality
Animal
Logan Pearsall Smith, ‘Desires’ from his book Trivia
Love Affairs
Farzaneh has an imagination, which directs his hero towards a variety of young women encountered during a year in downtown Vancouver, where “all types of girls can be found on the street”. At the end of the novel, in conversation with a waitress, he confesses “I like insecure, moody, promiscuous ice princesses who like to… Continue reading Love Affairs
The unfairness started with Adam & Eve
Before that apple business, Adam and Eve were buddies, gambolling around the Garden with the other animals like a couple of kids and if they had sex at all, it was innocent sex. Then sly old Satan, dressed up as a snake, wriggled up to Eve, handed her the apple and aroused her curiosity with… Continue reading The unfairness started with Adam & Eve
The Free Soul
I've written several times about spiritual writings from the thirteenth century: Meister Eckhart, Julian of Norwich, Margery Kempe. Each risked being fingered by the Inquisition as a heretic, and took steps to demonstrate orthodox obedience to the powerful Catholic Church. Marguerite Porete stands out from the others and is the most interesting by far. Almost… Continue reading The Free Soul
The Book of Margery Kempe
Margery Kempe was a bloody-minded woman, living in a time when England was still Catholic. Bishops, priests and friars held worldly and spiritual power. bloody-minded: Chiefly Brit. Perverse, contrary; cantankerous; stubbornly intransigent or obstructive. Cf. bloody adj. OED She came from the provinces, had no education and bore 14 children to a husband socially beneath… Continue reading The Book of Margery Kempe
Kant’s Trick . . .
. . . or all the philosophy you don't need to know, in 711 crisp words, by Bryan White. “How can I help seeing what is in front of my eyes? Two and two are four.” “Sometimes, Winston. Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are all of them at once. You… Continue reading Kant’s Trick . . .
Girl with a Pearl Earring
From Bryan White I just finished reading Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier. A few posts back, when Vincent said that he was "inspired" by books that he was waiting to get in the mail, I was in a similar situation at the time with this book. It was sitting on my bookshelf,… Continue reading Girl with a Pearl Earring
Who Sleeps with Katz
There are certain authors, that is to say certain books, that we are especially glad to have discovered. And when we discover something new and significant in our lives, the moment when it occurred is memorable. I discovered Todd Mcewen by looking up “happenstance” in the OED and finding an illustration of its use in… Continue reading Who Sleeps with Katz
Under the surface
From In Defence of Sensuality, by John Cowper Powys, 1930: . . . To return to the lonely ichthyosaurus-ego. This ichthyosaurus-ego exists in every man, woman, and child. It is the feeling of the soul in relation to its body and in relation to what surrounds its body. It is profoundly susceptible to moods of… Continue reading Under the surface
Writing Style
"One book you should read is the non-political “Impossible Owls,” a book of essays. It is great writing." This was a comment on the latest post of a blog I've been following for a while. I'm always drawn to "great writing". Thus I discovered Brian Phillips, a "gonzo journalist". You can see an extract from… Continue reading Writing Style
Wittgenstein on imagination
And if that thing itself ends up being disappointing? All the more reason to try to return to the thing as you were imaging it beforehand. Obviously a space exists for it, the space that the thing you wanted to find defaulted on occupying. From Philosophical Investigations: If I say I did not dream last… Continue reading Wittgenstein on imagination
An Outsider’s Perspective
Alone in the house the other morning, I used this retreat to think aloud, as a place where some echoes might be heard, or simply absorbed by the walls for later, Not the house walls, this place. For it is a sounding-board. Images and ideas can get amplified, the harmonics of other minds can pitch… Continue reading An Outsider’s Perspective
Happenstance
In my last, I mentioned “happenstance”. Is it in the OED? Certainly, and supported as always by illustrative quotations, one of which reads as follows: 1990 T. McEwen McX (1991) iii. 105 Here is music, written bold in your system by fence crows. Only a happenstance but proof that music comes and goes. So I looked up Todd McEwen. He’s quoted… Continue reading Happenstance
The late V S Naipaul
The other day I briefly published a piece on the late V S Naipaul. It was a synopsis of a lecture he gave in 1990, which he called “Our Universal Civilization”(1). After 24 hours, with vague misgivings, I took it down again.(2) It was fun to revive an old skill, the one they used to… Continue reading The late V S Naipaul
About the Magdalene
Click for Wikipedia article Obtainable from Amazon etc. but beware: the alleged Kindle version is a different translation that might not contain the above chapter.
The Moment, and the Rainbow
(post first drafted on 5th Feb) These days, I find little impulse to write. The process of dusting off more than a decade of posts for reissue, especially classifying them by topic, keeps reminding me that I don’t have anything new to say: only the same in different ways. A single set of themes can… Continue reading The Moment, and the Rainbow
When the Past Haunts the Night
Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night ... I find myself surprised to discover that the boarding school* I was so glad to leave in 1954 is actually still open for business, run by the same headmaster and his… Continue reading When the Past Haunts the Night
Loving What Is
I came to know about Byron Katie through her husband Stephen Mitchell whom I encountered through his translations of Gilgamesh and the Tao Te Ching. Her work, as expressed in books, videos, website and notably workshops staged in many countries, fits easily into the “self-help” genre, especially that aspect which focuses on human relationships and… Continue reading Loving What Is
English literature’s first terrorist
From the Introduction to John Carey's new book: Honour and empire, with revenge enlarged, By conquering this new world, compels me now To do what else though damned I should abhor. (Paradise Lost, Book 4: 390-92) “This is a terrorist’s logic, and the Satan of Paradise Lost is English literature’s first terrorist. Terrorism—the destruction of… Continue reading English literature’s first terrorist
Julian of Norwich
. . . all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. The Web is riddled with orphaned "quotes": mangled versions of what someone—the author or one of his characters—may or may not have said. We use them for our own purposes, with no regard for the… Continue reading Julian of Norwich
“There is No Other Doer but He”
As journals, blogs are like life: open-ended. You finish one piece, you've no idea what the next will say, or whether there'll be a next one. After ending my last with a quote from Julian of Norwich, to round the thing off as I thought, I never expected to encounter her again so soon. A… Continue reading “There is No Other Doer but He”
The Rules of the Tribes
Like Paul on the road to Damascus, I know exactly when my eyes were opened. It was Monday April 3rd, on a trip to town for two significant appointments. One was to see my specialist nurse, to arrange details for my stay at Stoke Mandeville Hospital. It didn't happen then. The other was to collect… Continue reading The Rules of the Tribes
Owen Glendower
Written in 2002 for La Lettre Powysienne, a periodical edited by Jacqueline Peltier I don’t know of any novel to compare it with, unless you feel able to imagine that Sir Walter Scott, whom Powys admired, had like Coleridge experimented with drugs and rewritten his Quentin Durward under the influence of peyote or LSD, and… Continue reading Owen Glendower
How everything fits together
Things fit together, said I. That’s what they are supposed to do, said Karleen. If only we have faith, said I—in the right things, of course. We were having our morning tea in bed while doing the cryptic crossword, where things always fit together, if you puzzle over them enough. The clues fit the answers… Continue reading How everything fits together
John o’Saturn meets women from Earth
Written in 2002 for La Lettre Powysienne, a periodical edited by Jacqueline Peltier How many autobiographies have been written in which the author fails to mention his own mother? One at least: and in this instance he goes further and omits from his narrative any reference to his five sisters and two wives. If I… Continue reading John o’Saturn meets women from Earth
A Glastonbury Romance
Here's another essay written for Jacqueline Peltier's Lettre Powysienne, a little magazine in two languages for a list of subscribers. On her website you can only find her French translation, but I've fortunately kept the English original, written in 2005. When I mentioned "Amazon" in my first paragraph, she asked me to explain what it… Continue reading A Glastonbury Romance
Peg, a minor character
In the last couple of days I've been horrified to discover myself becoming a hapless patient, lacking the means or strength to act in the world and thus demonstrate personhood, that prerequisite for the continued will to live. It was like being a ghost. It did not even occur to me to pray or give… Continue reading Peg, a minor character
Kindness (audio podcast)
click to to access the podcast transcript … I don’t know why, but the pain and the weariness started first thing Sunday morning, February 5th and here it is today, on the 23rd. I don’t even know what. At first, when I was told it was diverticulitis, I took the antibiotic and thought it was… Continue reading Kindness (audio podcast)
“All actual life is encounter”
We went to the Island for a long weekend with a couple of friends, staying at Mimosa Lodge, where I took a photo at dawn across the Solent from our bedroom window. Outside it was chilly and neither of us got to take photos, especially as we were acting as guides to our friends, to… Continue reading “All actual life is encounter”
The gift of literacy
When she was ten days old, Karleen was placed in the care of her grandparents, leaving her mother free to come to England, get properly settled, then call for her daughter to join her. But when she began to talk, her great-grandmother took her and brought her home to the country parish of Westmoreland, where… Continue reading The gift of literacy
Escaping One’s Enemy
From a still-slight acquaintance, I learn that Martin Buber was activated by people more than ideas. My last post, which got chewed up by an impatient mistake, had a long quote from his book I and Thou, ending with the words, "All actual life is encounter". For that is the meaning of his I-You. Where… Continue reading Escaping One’s Enemy
Breaking Wild
From John o’Donohue: A house can become a little self-enclosed world. Sheltered there, we learn to forget the wild, magnificent universe in which we live. When we domesticate our minds and hearts, we reduce our lives. We disinherit ourselves as children of the universe. Almost without knowing it, we slip inside ready-made roles and routines… Continue reading Breaking Wild
Girl who rocked the Government
We met on a summer afternoon in ’59, two 17-year-olds, Pisces born within days of each other. We discovered we had much in common. Both from fatherless backgrounds, lacking any proper home. Each had been granted a single talent, you might say, in compensation for the lack. As her father-figure Stephen Ward said, she… Continue reading Girl who rocked the Government
From the gone past
By definition the past is lost. We can’t live there any more; only in memory, imagination and books. To my simple mind, a progressive is one who’s excited by plans for the future, whereas a conservative takes inspiration from aspects of the past. In my own case, I concur with Robbie Burns that the best-laid… Continue reading From the gone past
The legend of honey
We find ourselves drawn to joy, truth, harmony, security, beauty, thrills, fulfilment, meaning, ecstasy. We don’t want to be stuck in some pointless, shitty situation. Such is our yearning for the pure wild honey of imagination, that we’re willing to risk being stung as we trace the sweet comb to some nest high up in… Continue reading The legend of honey
University dreams
Continued from "How I came to inhabit this body". I’d been accepted for some Civil Service or academic post, it wasn’t clear which or what. A colleague from a different department invited me for a chat, a sort of all-day induction. He was such good company that I felt guilty to be getting paid for… Continue reading University dreams
The Sellout
The last time I read a Booker Prize-winning novel was when Midnight’s Children came out in paperback. It wasn’t the best reading fun—or the most edifying, come to that. This time it’s happened by accident, when I heard the author interviewed on Radio 4. If this is the man, I thought, I may like his… Continue reading The Sellout
Theology of the Body
It’s a month since I wrote Living in a Body. I’ve been wrestling with a sequel ever since. One was briefly published, and Bryan added some cogent comments, but it was no good, for myriad reasons. Let this post dispose of the matter, the better to move on. As for Not-Doing, whereby, according to Lao-Tzu,… Continue reading Theology of the Body
Passion and Society
>The present train of thought started 54 years ago with a red book. Technically it was shoplifting but I thought of it as using the campus bookshop as a lending library. In mitigation of the offence, I returned it stealthily to the original shelf ten days later. That was the hard part, very scary. I’ve… Continue reading Passion and Society
Black Books
In reality I don’t have a front garden, just a concreted area big enough to hold four bins, for the separated recyclables, and a few plant pots. It also serves to provide a seven-foot gap between our front door and the sidewalk. There’s no separation from our neighbours’ concreted front area, and their front door… Continue reading Black Books
Manhattan Odyssey
[Written on July 16th, 2016. See also the version published on Amazon.com, which includes a review of an earlier version published here on September 6th, 2013.] A reader of this blog has published a novel. I promised to submit a review for Amazon and then spent weeks agonizing about how to do it justice, instead… Continue reading Manhattan Odyssey
The Cycle of Imperfection
Published a bit prematurely for Lambros, my neighbour who magically appears with his car when I think I don't need a lift to the hospital or wherever, like a thought-controlled angelic taxi service Going through old posts, I came across this one, which is quite fun, or at least it mentions fun, as in 2nd… Continue reading The Cycle of Imperfection
Civilisation or Madness
Originally called “A new muse, and “Civilisation”” I had an idea a few weeks ago, and it’s held good so far, without being abandoned like all the others. I’ve worked on it every day, and wanted to write a post about it too, but it seemed to be too early, perhaps still is. I don’t… Continue reading Civilisation or Madness
While I Can…Because I Can
It’s the second day of March, with a bit of blue sky but a biting damp wind. I walk along Desborough Road to the bus station, destination and agenda undecided. Why? Because I can. Whatever I can now do, one day I won’t be able to. No one knows the day, or the hour. Thanks,… Continue reading While I Can…Because I Can
Secret Strength
When we are alert to its promptings, the unconscious mind can reach us through various means. Blake had his waking visions; many of us have dreams. They may clothe themselves in a jumble of recent experiences, yet contain latent messages ready for decoding, which may open our eyes to things our well-controlled consciousness has kept… Continue reading Secret Strength
Life and Art
Writing is not easy. The trouble is, I’m too full of ideas. They come in bunches and I don’t know quite what to do with them. My monkey-mind thinks they should be cut into neat shapes and sewn into a quilt for posterity, so I spend hours trying to fit them together like a jigsaw… Continue reading Life and Art
England Have My Bones
I suppose we all have an idea of what constitutes real living. It’s not all those compromises we endure while we bridge the gap between yesterday and tomorrow. Real living is when we can say “this is it!” asking nothing from tomorrow at all. By this criterion, my real life has lately begun. The evening… Continue reading England Have My Bones
Tsundoku
I’m writing this for Rob, to celebrate the fact that we have known one another 42 years, and that he rang me the other evening, and it was good. When we have been in touch he has been generous, but we have also fallen out a few times. When I was in need he was… Continue reading Tsundoku
True Pride
In my last I meant to say that God whether existent or not can provide a focus for the spiritual life. I mentioned atheist Sam Harris approvingly for demonstrating that the separate “I” is an illusion: there is only the One. In his own words, “Experiencing this directly—not merely thinking about it—is the true beginning… Continue reading True Pride
The opium of the people
This is what Karl Marx actually said: The struggle against religion is, therefore, indirectly the struggle against that world whose spiritual aroma is religion. Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of… Continue reading The opium of the people
Beliefs 1: Pursue Your Dreams
What is belief? . . . the human necessity to have a working framework of beliefs to help us get through each day, and so on till the end of our lifespan . . . . . . Most human beings most of the time are uncomfortable with doubt. We crave certainty, but there isn’t… Continue reading Beliefs 1: Pursue Your Dreams
The Organizing Power of Words
I write here to express my thoughts and it’s difficult because they branch out in all directions, and I struggle to find an organizing principle. My thought is a response to the interaction of myself with the rest of the world. It’s constantly dynamic, like the global weather system. If I manage to write anything… Continue reading The Organizing Power of Words
Christina in a bookshop
I was dumbfounded: confounded and struck dumb at the same time. It was a congenial place to be, I discovered, being content to stay there a while, sheltered in the dignity and grace of not knowing, that is, shedding false knowledge. But now I find myself wanting to speak, for which I must pay the… Continue reading Christina in a bookshop
Fingers and Moon
I was dumbfounded: confounded and struck dumb at the same time. It was a congenial place to be, I discovered, being content to stay there a while, sheltered in the dignity and grace of not knowing, that is, shedding false knowledge... But now I find myself wanting to speak, for which I must pay the… Continue reading Fingers and Moon
Full Circle
. I've kept this post in for the comments only See "The Buddha and the Corpse" for a more interesting post
Buddha and Corpse
"What’s that book you’re reading?" asks my neighbour, curiously. There’s a score of us arranged along the cobblestones, leaning against the retaining wall of the public gardens—le Square du Vert Galant. We are proud to be Les Beatniks of Paris, or Les Clochards - the hobos. We’re blocking the public path that borders the dark… Continue reading Buddha and Corpse
Getting spruced up
This could describe me: While out walking I’ve formulated perfect phrases which I can’t remember when I get home. I’m not sure if the ineffable poetry of these phrases belongs totally to what they were (and which I forgot), or partly to what they weren’t. [from fragment 399 of The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando… Continue reading Getting spruced up
The God Interviews
I find writing here harder and harder, sometimes labouring for days over a draft and then scrapping it. In the early days I’d write simply, with the freshness and naïveté of an unguarded moment among friends; something I only manage now in comments and emails, which might be a bit loose and slapdash, but seldom… Continue reading The God Interviews
Anam Ċara
I ended a recent post, “On Being Animal”, with these words: To become animal is to regain Eden. This is why I don’t have a use for the word “spirituality”. I take those words back. In any case they don’t make too much sense. It’s tedious of me to be so pedantic, and something that… Continue reading Anam Ċara
La Vie en Rosé
The art of Natalie D’Arbeloff, which often combines image and text, has a directness and simplicity that may at first sight appear childlike. But it’s quite the reverse. For all its immediacy, it’s both subtle and profound, adult in the best as opposed to the X-rated sense. It comes from someone who knows the world… Continue reading La Vie en Rosé
Why did the R101 Crash?
I mentioned in the comments section of my last that scientists these days are dependent on research funding, academic tenure etc., so they may feel constrained in what they can say or do; whereas in the nineteenth century and earlier, scientists could speculate fearlessly. Agreeing with this, Natalie suggested that some ideas derided by orthodoxy… Continue reading Why did the R101 Crash?
On being an animal
What I really wanted to say in my last was: “I am an animal”. The intended piece got hijacked by its own introduction, if you can believe that. “I am an animal” sounds like an oxymoron, requires an explanation before you can make sense of it. “I am . . .” implies awareness. “Animal” implies… Continue reading On being an animal
Intelligent Design
I’m sure there must be various ways to introduce the elements of science in schools, some good and some bad. Let the reader judge. Aged 9, I was excited by the prospect of Science lessons. We started by proving the existence of air, a project which seemed disappointingly trivial and uninteresting. We thought we knew… Continue reading Intelligent Design
On Human Behaviour
Sartre in 1955 Among the comments on my last, Ellie referred to some words by Jean-Paul Sartre. I have expanded her quotation a little, for its context: “We are left alone, without excuse. That is what I mean when I say man is condemned to be free. Condemned, because he did not create himself, yet… Continue reading On Human Behaviour
Blessed Life
This was written on December 14th, 2014. Back then, such thoughts came that I find astonishing today*. Simply to be alive is such a blessing that we rarely find ourselves able to grasp it. To grasp something is to feel it in the moment, not just as a logical proposition but an experienced reality, that… Continue reading Blessed Life
Indoor Travel
From ‘A Factless Biography’ fragment 451, in Richard Zenith’s translation of The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa, who lived in a small Lisbon apartment Travel? One need only exist to travel. I go from day to day, as from station to station, in the train of my body or my destiny, leaning out over… Continue reading Indoor Travel
I am not a machine
Click for an animated version of this diagram I spent days trying to compose a sequel to my last post about Maggie Boden’s book, The Creative Mind. She had outlined a science of creativity, leaning on her expertise in Computational Psychology, which she more or less invented. A learned paper says ‘Computational psychologists are “theorists… Continue reading I am not a machine
The Creative Mind
The other morning I turned on Radio 4 whilst washing the breakfast dishes and it sounded interesting, a kind of reminiscence. I’d missed the beginning and took a little while to catch on. I liked the sound of the lady though, full of fun, approachable and without false modesty. When she mentioned a former post… Continue reading The Creative Mind
Fields of Blood
Imagine an impassioned debate at the Oxford Union, “That this House finds Religion to Have Been the Cause of All the Major Wars in History.” Arguing for the motion, suggests Karen Armstrong, would be “American commentators and psychiatrists, London taxi drivers and Oxford academics.” Arguing against, at unnecessary length, is Karen Armstrong’s new book, Fields… Continue reading Fields of Blood
Inner & Outer Landscape
I decided to go for my usual loaf of bread by a circuitous route, over the Pastures; or rather, my feet took me that way while I readied myself to share what I had to say to Olympus, my companion of the road, expert at listening because he’s a state-of-the-art voice recorder. You’ll see from… Continue reading Inner & Outer Landscape
Stepping on Air
I ’ve spent a few weeks in awe and praise of Meister Eckhart. I’ve had enough of him for the time being. I’ve no intention to publish a draft-in-progress called “More on Disinterest”. Indeed, this morning I find myself arguing against him: him and his way to God, wherein he places disinterest above love: The… Continue reading Stepping on Air
Stepping aside
I had no thought of doing an audio diary, nor for that matter of producing a music video, let alone combining the two into a hybrid. Some things evolve by accident: you and I for example, if you can believe it, have evolved in exactly that way. Certainly the best things in my life have… Continue reading Stepping aside
Rebuilding from within
By day, my bedroom window is transformed into a viewing platform to watch the renascence of my Sun-dial Factory across the road. On April 29th 2013, I wrote a piece beginning: I see things as imbued with meaning, like fragments written in a foreign language. Sometimes I can decipher them; sometimes even put them in… Continue reading Rebuilding from within
Colloquy
I was moved by Ellie's recent comment: We engage in a colloquy reflecting one another’s light through the jewel of our own perception. In my last I spoke of the sound of waves breaking on the shore, and in subsequent comments the ebb and flow of tides. May this blog share the connectivity and outreach… Continue reading Colloquy
The Lord is my shepherd
God is nameless, because no one can say anything or understand anything about him. It was for statements like this that the Dominican friar known as Meister Eckhart was nearly condemned as a heretic. He was an employee of the Catholic Church, an organization which claimed an exclusive right to say things about God; and… Continue reading The Lord is my shepherd
A Coney Island of the Mind
This is for you, dear poet of my youth, still 23 years and 21 days older than me (therefore 95), still here with the rest of us, enabling me to write this with a possibility it might reach you. I would say I’ve admired you from afar, but it’s not true, for I spent fifty… Continue reading A Coney Island of the Mind
The printing-factory
I wonder why, out of the mass of all we forget, some inconsequential things stick in our minds. Perhaps they chime with our destiny, that elusive future no one can see till it arrives. And when it does, perhaps something from our rag-bag of memories may “ring a bell”, as if it had been foreshadowed.… Continue reading The printing-factory
On Further Consideration
Stepping out the door into sunshine or cloud, nothing on my mind, I marvel at what it is to be human. It’s like being in a strange land with no map. Here am I, familiar to myself. Slowly I change, but not as fast as the world around me. I'm more comfortable with things as… Continue reading On Further Consideration
Gaia Warriors
Nicola Davies’ book about climate change has hardly set the world on fire. Since its publication in 2009, it has attracted two reader reviews on Amazon: one in UK, one in US. It’s a lavishly-produced paperback, large format, bold use of colours and fonts; but I don’t think it’s selling too well now. You can… Continue reading Gaia Warriors
The King James Version
In my last I said “I hope to return to this theme in another post”. I had mentioned the Bible, in the King James Version completed in 1611. In its time and for several centuries it was Holy Writ, an authority not to be questioned by its readers, till developments in science, evolutionary theory and… Continue reading The King James Version
Discussion on Education
From D. H Lawrence’s Women in Love. Scene: in the garden at Breadalby, where Hermione entertains her house-guests. Her brother Alexander Roddice is a member of Parliament. There had been a split in the Cabinet; the minister for Education had resigned owing to adverse criticism. This started a conversation on education. “Of course,” said Hermione,… Continue reading Discussion on Education
Intersecting worlds
Reality is composed of many interwoven strands and nowhere are these delineated more vividly than in The Sun Temple. What shall I call it? A treatise? A short story? A memoir? A traveller’s tale? It’s all of these and a masterpiece of erudite psychedelia as well. Above all it is searingly honest and true, never… Continue reading Intersecting worlds
To my literary agent
Dear — If I knew your name, I wouldn’t be writing like this to you, in public. But we haven’t yet met. We’re still two lonely hearts, so to speak, seeking one another. I did write to an agent last year: one whose web page says I am willing to be seduced, amazed, charmed, or moved. What… Continue reading To my literary agent
Walking on air
There was a programme on BBC Radio 4 about the writing life. At this moment, it’s only available to “listen again” for another five days, so I’d better get on and publish this. In any event, I’ve made a transcript of the important bit. It starts at 22:26 and you can hear the full audio… Continue reading Walking on air
Miraculous Recovery
William Blake: Glad Day (1795) “I am compiling an inspirational book for people with ME/CFS and am looking for people who are happy to contribute their personal story of recovery . . . to give hope to many people who are still suffering . . . Deadline for receipt: 30 September 2005.” For definition of… Continue reading Miraculous Recovery
a letter from Vincent
[Arles, Mid-October 1888] My dear Theo, At last I am sending you a small sketch to give you at least an idea of the form which the work is taking. For today I am all right again. My eyes are still tired, but then I had a new idea in my head and here is… Continue reading a letter from Vincent
An old book revisited
Rediscovered today I bought this book in Paris fifty years ago. It became a kind of Bible to me, to read and re-read till I grasped its difficult meaning. Years later. in a fit of extreme decluttering I gave it away along with all my other worldly goods; whereby hangs a tale, somewhat related to… Continue reading An old book revisited
The Evolution of God
Limited by space, a frog in the well has no idea what is the ocean. Limited by time, an insect in summer has no idea what is ice. Limited by intellect, a man in life has no idea what is Consciousness. — Chuang Tzu (369 BC-286 BC), tr Herbert A. Giles In my reading, I’m… Continue reading The Evolution of God
The View from Nowhere
A year ago, Bryan White and I collaborated on an ambitious book project. I can’t quite recall the start point, though I think it originated in a conversation conducted in the comment columns of this site. Not surprisingly in hindsight, it soon foundered, but its remnants are a matter of public record as a blog… Continue reading The View from Nowhere
Acknowledgements
Masochistically, I’d planned to spend much time and ink writing a structured essay on literacy; covering texting, graffiti, tweeting, Facebook, Wikipedia, hyperlinking, spellcheck, online thesaurus, apostrophe confusion, grammatical mangling, metaphor insensitivity, the history of books from Gilgamesh to Kindle, the National Novel-Writing Month, the demise of the typewriter, my mania for fountain pens, registrar’s ink,… Continue reading Acknowledgements
Everything Knows
by Ghetufool “The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all Ridicule and Deformity...”—Blake I’ve published two of Ghetu’s stories before: Free as a Bird and Ticket to Paradise. Here is his latest. Like the others,… Continue reading Everything Knows
Bach and Blackbird
I was driving to the supermarket in the rain. The CD player had come on, and was at no. 14 of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, by the pianist Glenn Gould. It was the 1981 re-recording as opposed to his debut album in 1955 playing the same 31 pieces. This later version stands out for the dramatic… Continue reading Bach and Blackbird
The Book of Disquiet
Art consists in making others feel what we feel, in freeing them from themselves by offering them our own personality. From The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa, translated from the Portuguese by Richard Zenith; numbered section 260 Art frees us, illusorily, from the squalor of being. from section 270 There are certain books which… Continue reading The Book of Disquiet
Mister God, this is Anna
Reading Nietzsche is like having a guide show you round your home town—perhaps your own street. He takes you to a familiar blank wall, and shows you cracks in the smooth surface. “So what?” you think and then he takes your hand and you go through each crack to an unfamiliar vista on the other… Continue reading Mister God, this is Anna
Sacred places
Books I’ve recently read convey snatches of the lore whereby sacred places may be recognized and visited. I find myself wanting to quote from them. But I must refer only to what I know, sketchy or part-submerged in the subconscious as that may be. David Abram for example speaks of certain peoples, on the fringes… Continue reading Sacred places
One Minute, Please
Every day I desire to publish some nice little piece here, but unless it’s dictated by the inner voice, over which I have no control, it’s not worth the effort. This voice is silent sometimes for weeks on end—or more likely I haven’t learnt how to listen—and then it may utter a single phrase, as… Continue reading One Minute, Please
In memory of George Whitman, 1913-2011
I once spent a few weeks as George Whitman’s guest in his bookshop opposite Notre Dame in Paris. Today I heard of his death on the news. I’ve mentioned him three times on this blog: in May 2008, May 2009 and Feb 2011*. It has always been difficult to write about the man himself, for… Continue reading In memory of George Whitman, 1913-2011
Straw Dogs
In his book John Gray is a demolisher, razing to the ground almost every idea which offers hope, whether it comes from science, religion, humanism or any other -ism. It’s not a long book. You can get through it in a couple of days: easily but not comfortably, unless you’ve already sacrificed all the sacred… Continue reading Straw Dogs
Becoming Animal
I had thought of writing a review of David Abram’s book, Becoming Animal, but the breadth of its vision, the variety of its original ideas, the density of its poetical descriptions would take a long time to digest, before I could say anything of value. It would have been easier if I didn’t admire it… Continue reading Becoming Animal
Gilgamesh, a book for our time
The Epic of Gilgamesh is the world’s oldest written tale, going back 4000 years. (See timeline at foot of this article.) It has survived by virtue of being impressed on clay tablets buried in the desert in “cuneiform”, the oldest known form of writing, which dates back 5000 years. Only with the work of generations… Continue reading Gilgamesh, a book for our time
Mission
The photos alongside were taken on a walk in Flackwell Heath I confess to a constant need: to have a sense of mission. I don’t suppose this makes me any different from any other man—I specifically mean man as opposed to woman, child or any other specimen from the imaginative catalogue of God’s creatures. I… Continue reading Mission
Fight Club: the Movie & Book
originally part of this post. I might feel different from everyone else in some ways, but in other men I do recognise myself, at any rate in literature and film: for example in Fight Club. Have you seen it? Edward Norton’s character, the nameless narrator, was me. Through his eyes I too was fascinated by Brad Pitt’s… Continue reading Fight Club: the Movie & Book
Museums and Women
Lately I seem to be getting more from literature than from life. A misleading observation, since reading is an act performed like any other, in life, as opposed to a dream. Again, this is misleading. Leisure reading fires the imagination as dreams do. By "life" we sometimes mean living, in the sense of an interactive… Continue reading Museums and Women
Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone 4
I've always been irritated by the stilted translation of Camus' famous book by Justin O'Brien, and offered my own to the publisher, Penguin Books.They informed me that this translation was copyrighted as the only translation, so my efforts were a dead duck. I'd read French and Italian literature for my degree at the University of… Continue reading Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone 4
Homer’s Odyssey
It matters a lot which translation of a book you read. I confess to being super-fussy about these things. I hear a piano concerto or symphony, for example, and compare it unfavourably with one which impinged on my consciousness years ago, perhaps in my teens. (You’ll have to trust me on this. It’s the impinging,… Continue reading Homer’s Odyssey
Affinity
Why do I write, if I can’t write any better? But what would become of me if I didn’t write what I can, however inferior it may be to what I am? In my ambitions, I am a plebeian, because I try to achieve; like someone in a dark room, I’m afraid to be silent.… Continue reading Affinity
Dreaming spires
Oxford is everything that my own town is not, and it’s only 30 miles away. I decided Park and Ride was the best way to enter in triumph, using my new electronic bus pass, on a superb day in June, discovering that the students are in exams and the streets are a motley of tourists.… Continue reading Dreaming spires
By Bus and Canal
When I take a bus ride, I journey to the past. Subconsciously, this is my intended destination, for I could have taken the car instead, and “saved time”. I have no reason to save time any more. Now is my invitation to spend it freely; to use if I wish to sift my past, like… Continue reading By Bus and Canal
Bin Laden Dies
Ghetu asked me what I thought, as a ‘common Britisher’, of Bin Laden’s recent death. I responded as follows: I’m more of an uncommon Britisher, but I’m pretty sure there are others who think like me. America deliberately chose its fight with Islam after the end of Soviet communism. America it seems has to have… Continue reading Bin Laden Dies
The Search for Meaning
I had a gift token to spend at the only bookshop in town, didn’t see anything I wanted. But then I was drawn to a certain book. I looked at it the first time rather idly, and thought to myself, “No, this is written by a Viennese psychiatrist. I have had enough of them.” I… Continue reading The Search for Meaning
Books
I haven’t been writing because I’ve been reading so much. One book leads to another and the Kindle Reader has a lot to answer for. Snuggled in bed late at night, cradling the thing in its handsome leather case and its own light just bright enough to illuminate the page of black and white e-inks,… Continue reading Books
Wittgenstein
Restored to its original form after some unwise revisionism in 2021 The other day I was writing about being nineteen and somehow feeling the same way fifty years later. But it was a mysterious feeling because I could not adduce a single instance of nineteenhood to illustrate my point. So it is a coincidence that… Continue reading Wittgenstein
Discovering Wittgenstein
The other day I was writing about being nineteen and somehow feeling the same way fifty years later. But it was a mysterious feeling because I could not adduce a single instance of nineteenhood to illustrate my point. So it is a coincidence that I first discovered Wittgenstein at that age. Discovered is hardly the… Continue reading Discovering Wittgenstein
Preface Mark III
Not previously published on Wayfarer's Notes I still haven’t given up on “the book of the blog”. When I do, this place can become “the blog of the book”, but don’t worry, it will be the same blog, going off in the same haphazard directions. In December last, I dashed off a Preface followed by… Continue reading Preface Mark III
Kindle Readers, then and now
Comment in October 2024: this was written in 2011, after a friend had persuaded Karleen to invest in the latest Kindle, now extinct and called the "Paperwhite" on account of its screen technology. See this contemporary review. I bought one for myself. These days we are content with an up-to-date model, for reading aloud in… Continue reading Kindle Readers, then and now
Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (3)
My objective in producing a new translation of this philosophical essay has been to write as Albert Camus might have done, if English were his native language and he had used it as the medium for dashing off his fevered ideas. This translation work has come to a halt, perhaps permanently. But if I do… Continue reading Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (3)
On reading the Bible
When I read, I like to make an orgy of it, especially on a rainy winter’s day, curled up in my armchair in front of the glowing embers of a log fire. One book is not enough, I want to be surrounded by them, drawn into their world where time and space are condensed into… Continue reading On reading the Bible
Happiness machine
Matt Lowe of the blog “Liberal Jesus” wrote a post pointing to an article in the New York Times. Matt admitted “I can’t figure out quite what I think about it. I need a little goading I think.” I hastily appended my own working definition of happiness: that it's when one can say "I don't… Continue reading Happiness machine
The soul just feels
The soul is feminine, I mean passive. It initiates nothing, does nothing but feel. It seems helpless to assert itself against will and intellect; like a slug on the sidewalk after rain, defenceless against accidental or deliberate squashing by human feet; or like a majestic brooding silence, the silence of a wilderness, defeated by the… Continue reading The soul just feels
Will and Intellect
Intended as preface to a book I was planning in December, 2010 The soul is feminine, I mean passive. It does nothing but feel. Will and intellect are the masculine elements, delighting in action and creativity for their own sakes. In young men is a naturally warlike instinct: to fight, regardless of the cause espoused,… Continue reading Will and Intellect
Living in the Past
My life is full of half-formed ideas and mothballed projects. Far from being a self-pitying lament, this is a grateful realization. For in discovering who I am, by means of observation rather than vain wish, I can devote myself to it wholeheartedly, to the general benefit. Sometimes I’m a conscious exile from the Forties and… Continue reading Living in the Past
Lambs and us
All you need to be a philosopher is to ask “Why?” By this standard, most three-year-olds are philosophers. When he hears the obvious answer, a philosopher thinks, “I’m not satisfied with this. There must be more to it!” The three-year-old responds to every answer with a further “Why?” until the adult tires of the game.… Continue reading Lambs and us
Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (2)
Le Mythe de Sisyphe: essai sur l’absurde Albert Camus © 1942 Éditions Gallimard Translation © 2010 Ian Vincent Mulder Continued from extract (1): So what is this mysterious feeling which deprives us of vital sleep? A world explicable with reasons, even if they are bad reasons, remains a familiar world. But take away the illusions,… Continue reading Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (2)
Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (1)
Le Mythe de Sisyphe: essai sur l’absurde Albert Camus © 1942 Éditions Gallimard Translation © 2010 Ian Vincent Mulder I've decided to publish extracts of my new translation, which remains unfinished, on this blog, starting below: This book is about a certain sensitivity, which I call “the absurd”. You will find traces of it scattered… Continue reading Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (1)
The Denial of Death
According to Ernest Becker, the wellspring of human action is the fear of death: correction, the denial of the fear of death. In his Preface, he actually says that the “prospect of death . . . is the mainspring of human activity” (my italics). He makes short work of the real fear of real death,… Continue reading The Denial of Death
The Joker Chuang-Tzu
Raymond Sigrist, by doing nothing and making no recommendation, finally got me to start reading Chuang Tzu. When I write about books, I adopt the same strategy as an unscrupulous professional reviewer: read a few pages, then rush headlong to the typewriter. Not that I can’t be bothered to read it through, but there’s nothing… Continue reading The Joker Chuang-Tzu
Hell! said the Duchess
Hayden commented on my last with some excellent remarks on how to start a story, including the following: I love broadness and specificity in a beginning. A sense of mystery that isn't addressed by the ample facts stated. The facts situate the event in a time and space, anchor it if you will. The mystery,… Continue reading Hell! said the Duchess
The secret life of strangers
How is it possible to remember a moment when nothing actually happened? I don’t know, but such moments are the ones I remember most vividly. There were some major works being done on the railway line which affected the bridge above, in the middle of the village’s main street. In consequence, traffic on the bridge… Continue reading The secret life of strangers
Death will win
This sky is my paper, asking me to write on its clear blue surface, perhaps in sepia ink with my new fountain-pen. But it doesn’t tell me what to write. I don’t care, for my pleasure is in the writing more than the content. Gazing at the blue sky, I welcome the little clouds. Uninterrupted… Continue reading Death will win
Amber
Writing is a medium for the preservation of thoughts. Within the preservative—a string of words— the thoughts are embedded or entangled, just as prehistoric insects are caught in amber. Even if we find insects—the subject matter, the thought itself—repulsive, we can still admire the golden translucence and high polish of a piece of amber. If… Continue reading Amber
Not Knowing
I have just decided, on behalf of humanity as a whole, that not knowing is good. In any event, it pervades our lives as a fact. How many times a day do we say, “You never know;” or “God knows,” with its unsaid “(I don’t)”? To endorse the virtue of uncertainty, I finally stopped dithering… Continue reading Not Knowing
User-friendly
I really haven’t got time to write anything here. This makes it all the more important to do it anyway, for I write to discover what I really think. Think? I’m not referring to “detached thought”, that attempt to be rational that we learn as a trick, as a performing seal balances a beach-ball on… Continue reading User-friendly
The slug, my ancestor
Andrew Marr’s Start the Week programme on BBC radio had four scientists as guests, including Richard Dawkins, that missionary for his indivisible cause, “evolution and atheism”. Perhaps he is the progenitor of that hybrid, for I don’t recall Darwin himself being an atheist. I understand Dawkins’ line of reasoning well enough. But where we differ… Continue reading The slug, my ancestor
The Pocket Diarist
The postman left a package which felt like a small book. Not expecting any such thing, I was delighted; then opened it, and was Deloitted. Deloitte Touche is the current incarnation of a company I left in 1985, known then as Touche Ross & Co, Accountants. I was in their management consultancy, but now I’m… Continue reading The Pocket Diarist
Finnegan’s
One of our group the other day, who shall be nameless because I can't for the moment remember which of two it was, commented that he was rather put off by this blog's title, "The Retreat". He associated retreat with defeat. That's how tricky words can be, like petards. For ’tis the sport to have… Continue reading Finnegan’s
Unto the hills
“When I was someone else, that I am not now ...” continued. Let us assume that each one of us contains multiple personalities. Vincent exists in the written word, is not quite the same as his author, who inhabits other dimensions never written down. Vincent is several persons, separated by time-slices, spliced together into fragments… Continue reading Unto the hills
Here I’ll stay
Two years ago, when I’d just moved into this house and couldn’t get online, I’d go to the internet café on the Desborough Road and compose a blog post in an hour. One post, “Being Ordinary”, is an example, perhaps the only one, and didn’t work out too badly. Where did that simple spontaneity go?… Continue reading Here I’ll stay
Mysterious impulse
"It would be idle to inquire why Mr Razumov has left this record behind him. It is inconceivable that he should have wished any human eye to see it. A mysterious impulse of human nature comes into play here. Putting aside Samuel Pepys, who has forced in this way the door of immortality, [we observe… Continue reading Mysterious impulse
Touching the Right Spot
From an extinct blog called Fiaschi (quotidianstuff.blogspot.com Easter excites me more than Christmas: not for the long-ago drama of torture, execution and rebirth, but for the immediate signs of rebirth that orchestrate the miracle of Spring. I respect the Christian traditions only because they were respected by my ancestors and formed a backdrop to my… Continue reading Touching the Right Spot
Want and need
“We all want. We all need. When want overpowers need, our perspective gets skewed. I say, want all you want—wanting motivates. However, need very little and you will almost always be satisfied.” (Pauline’s latest post made me think, and my comments on her post expanded afterwards into the stuff below.. They appear as by Hendrix,… Continue reading Want and need
Intrepid Victorians (2)
I mentioned in my last that Dolomite Strongholds is illustrated by the author, with his photos, colour lithographs and pen drawings. As I browsed this beautifully-produced book, a delicate sheet of folded paper slid out, containing pen drawings (traced on top of original pencil sketches) on both sides. None of these were incorporated into the… Continue reading Intrepid Victorians (2)
Intrepid Victorians
I've inherited a little volume, illustrated by the author, who was also my great-grandfather, entitled Dolomite Strongholds: the last untrodden peaks; published in 1894. Don’t you love that Victorian prose, its characteristic style at once lofty and light, beloved of those who would make parodies of the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, particularly those… Continue reading Intrepid Victorians
What the Alpine Club had to say
REVIEWS AND NOTICES. Dolomite Strongholds. B y the Rev. J. Sanger Davies. Illustrated. (London : Bell and Sons. 1894.) WE are informed on the title page of this book that it contains an account of ascents of the last untrodden Alpine peaks—namely, the Creda da Lago, the Little and Great Zinnen, the Cinque Torri, the… Continue reading What the Alpine Club had to say
Long Journey to Now
I’m walking through Hughenden Park, pondering the suitcase of old photos, wondering what I can tell and what I cannot. There is no point in showing the emotive or personal ones because it will be impossible to share the feelings they evoke without a volume of history and explanation. I have picked out two whose… Continue reading Long Journey to Now
In the footsteps of Basho
If a website can merit its own patron saint, then I choose Basho, that wayfarer and Zen monk whom I commemorate above with a quotation. In his travel writings—prose interspersed with haiku—he tours Japan on the pretext of pilgrimages. (See typical extract below, in my first comment.) I went a little further afield yesterday, drawn… Continue reading In the footsteps of Basho
Antonioni’s Blow-up (1966)
Straight after Raskolnikov, I’ve been letting my soul go for a ride with another reprehensible protagonist: the unnamed photographer of Antonioni's Blow-up, played by David Hemmings as a bored playboy, who in one scene reminds me of a remark by Marc, commenting on my last: “Every time I ever pointed to a passing girl or woman… Continue reading Antonioni’s Blow-up (1966)
Crime and Punishment
It’s not dawn yet, but I’ve turned on the heating and lit a candle. Through this study window that keeps a secret eye on the wider world, I see in the street's yellow lamplight the snowflakes falling. I’ve just finished the last few pages of Crime and Punishment, illuminated at the very last by redemption… Continue reading Crime and Punishment
Beginnings
My head says that the perfect wayfaring is to follow an ancient trail through the hills, where the eye can roam to horizons beyond where the feet can tread: a Himalaya or Grand Canyon of the soul. My feet know better. The other day, I set out on a banal errand, accompanying Karleen to town… Continue reading Beginnings
The persistence of selfhood
“You don’t know what you think until you speak.” Which is why I blog. And then there are the extempore comments scattered across cyberspace, wanton and unremembered: pigeons loosed but never coming home to roost for they are not of the homing variety. Or they are seeds broadcast, which engender new life in many a… Continue reading The persistence of selfhood
Sexual energy
Years ago, before the public library in this town was cunningly pruned and restocked to reflect the scientifically-determined reading taste of the residents, it contained some quirky books that made a rainy-day visit into an exciting adventure. In the foreign languages section I found a novel by Pierre Boulle. I was astonished to discover he… Continue reading Sexual energy
First Love
It was a Sunday morning in March and I was just 16. I’d been writing an essay on a stanza from a poem by William Wordsworth: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye Fair as a star when only one is shining in the sky I’d been sitting by the warm… Continue reading First Love
Liking and disliking
I don’t like the idea of self-help literature. I write to help me. You can write or read to help yourself. We all have our likes and dislikes. To follow my desire is a great joy, but what to do about the things that I hate? The worst is to dislike myself, for then anyone… Continue reading Liking and disliking
Angels disguised as bandits
I passed through the children’s playground. From where I live it’s a pedestrian shortcut into town. Two boys were there, who looked about 8, one with a bandanna tied around his face, like a masked bandit holding up a Wells Fargo coach. At his age I must have done the same. They asked me for… Continue reading Angels disguised as bandits
Running with Bulls
In hindsight, my last post sounds a little Quixotic: retired man goes on mysterious Quest, tries to attach importance to his ramblings — the ones on foot and the verbal ones, both. That’s a fair enough summary, especially the reference to “hindsight” — a theme I’ll develop further. On the walk I partly described in… Continue reading Running with Bulls
The lure of literature
Originally published on Blogger on September, '08, when blogging was very much a thing. Many of those who commented had multiple blogs which are still alive and kicking. Some see blogs as self-indulgent monologues. But to be pedantic—and who’s to stop me, this is my own self-indulgent monologue—a blog is not a literary form and… Continue reading The lure of literature
Bonfire of the vanities
Since this photo, the fire’s gone out after consuming the fence and denuding finally gone out after consuming the adjacent fence and half of the overhanging tree. In the scale of things, gratitude is now in order My next-door neighbour, bottom left in the pic, had complained to the Council about the state of his… Continue reading Bonfire of the vanities
Intrinsic goodness
Back in the Sixties, I first came across some mysterious expressions from the other side of the Atlantic. I was working for a British company whose main rival was IBM. Both companies had built up a customer base selling punched-card equipment based on the nineteenth-century inventions of Herman Hollerith and his one-time colleague James Powers.… Continue reading Intrinsic goodness
Seeing from a Height
What do you do with the rest of your life when in early adulthood you are admitted to a vision of universal oneness, in which what seems like God’s love is poured down and you can sensuously swim in it? Paul Maurice Martin wrote notes: diary entries to be expanded later. He went on to… Continue reading Seeing from a Height
Blazing a trail
In these pieces I have a consistent aim, like a would-be acrobat endlessly repeating the same manoeuvre, aiming at perfect execution, to demonstrate something to the audience, using his entire body and soul in the demonstration, so that the slightest distraction such as a thought or an itch somewhere on his skin would affect the… Continue reading Blazing a trail
Hole in the head
Phineas Gage was swift, capable, responsible. He was physically fit and a leader of men. These qualities made him at the age of 25 a supervisor on a Vermont railroad construction project; and might have helped him rise through the ranks to a senior management position in that branch of engineering. But the smooth track… Continue reading Hole in the head
Rainy day pilgrimage
Undissuaded by heavy rain, and having the day free, I hankered for a bus ride, distance no object. What could be more in accord with my temperament than a pilgrimage? In harmony with the Zen poet Basho, author of The Narrow Road to the Deep North. My destination this morning was “a small café in… Continue reading Rainy day pilgrimage
Religion in Public Life
It’s apparent from the Web that in America religion is as much an irritant on the public consciousness as politics. I mean, you get bitten by the media and you can’t help scratching all the time. So the agenda is stolen. I don’t want to react to the state of religion in America or in… Continue reading Religion in Public Life
Stories of animal sagacity
As a child I read Stories of Animal Sagacity, a set of Victorian anecdotes by William Henry Giles Kingston. I didn’t remember his name of course: the World-Wide Web has the full text in facsimile and OCR transcription, with the illustrations reproduced too. Sagacity is a lovely word: it was many years till I came… Continue reading Stories of animal sagacity
Purpose
Outside the supermarket a three-year-old boy was expressing his distress in voice and reddened face. Solicitous, his mother bent down to him. No doubt he had wanted something in the shop and been denied it. He looked like me at that age and in a flash I recalled how I used to behave: a lot… Continue reading Purpose
The constant spring
Sunday morning: I’ve taken my writing-book out to the backyard, where I can sit on this bench and be warmed like a lizard for the first time this year. Surely Spring has arrived! The yard is so tiny, the fences so high, that in winter the sun never reaches the ground: the best it can… Continue reading The constant spring
Dignity
What ought I to think about climate change and the impending catastrophes of the world? What ought I to do about these things? Such questions are infiltrating the moral consciousness of humanity. Even the Catholic church now proposes that ruining the environment is another way of offending God, in addition to the seven deadly sins. It’s not my practice… Continue reading Dignity
Lion and Thorn
In all cultures there is awe for the power of healing. In Jesus it was a sign of divinity or at least a crowd-puller to his sermons. The wounded lion, from an Aesop’s fable or the legend of St Jerome, is the archetype of a patient unable to diagnose or treat himself. The treatment---extracting the… Continue reading Lion and Thorn
what makes us stronger
I’ve been wanting to know about health and illness for days now. I meant to say “write” but my fingers typed “know”, and they didn’t lie. I haven’t been feeling well enough to write. I could write about my history of illness, but it wouldn’t be fun for you or me. Let’s not forget that… Continue reading what makes us stronger
My true self
Paul had spoken of those who accept the received answers of their religion and find no calling to be seekers. Their satisfaction comes from being in the bosom of a congregation. Cool and detached, I had responded that I would not write about the hypothetical experiences of others, for I would not judge them or… Continue reading My true self
Fevered interlude
When you have a virus---cold or flu---it comes and goes in waves, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. I woke in the night, thinking about how to continue my memoirs. There’s plenty left in the pipeline. But after age 21 and before 59, there’s a waste land: not an arid desert, but… Continue reading Fevered interlude
Quotes from Hank Bukowski
On Adversity & Resilience "What matters most is how well you walk through the fire". "Things get bad for all of us, almost continually, and what we do under the constant stress reveals who/what we are". "Nobody can save you but yourself, and you're worth saving". "Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives… Continue reading Quotes from Hank Bukowski
Clothesline
I might have conveyed the impression in my last that the world has to be put right in order to provide the conditions in which we can live happily. I really think the opposite: that the world has never been better, and never worse, than it is now. We can do our little best to… Continue reading Clothesline
Breakfast Rant
One of the characters in The Secret Agent is Michaelis, the “ticket-of-leave apostle”. Pitifully obese, he finds it difficult to communicate with others having spent his twenty years in jail (judged guilty by association with some terrorist atrocity) developing his own anti-capitalist philosophy. So now he continues his solitude in a cottage provided by a… Continue reading Breakfast Rant
Steppenwolf
I’ve been wanting to write but it’s been difficult lately and I was in the dark as to why, or what to do about it. Yes, my circumstances have changed, and as it seemed to my foolishness, they have improved, for now I’m a house-owner and part of a community, instead of depending on a… Continue reading Steppenwolf
King James I School
At the school there was a Scout Troop in addition to the Cadet Contingent. At some point in my bookish diversions I had read Baden-Powell’s Scouting for Boys and been seduced by it just like millions of others world-wide. The essence of this seductive power was contained in the bush-hat, the neckwear and the badge-adorned… Continue reading King James I School
Fantasies
Recalling materials for a memoir is like being an archaeologist. Sometimes you have to make do with nothing but a handle, or a spout. From this you deduce and reconstruct the rest of the jug whose fragments have been ground small by Time. Painstaking effort must be aided by guesswork, for you don’t have every… Continue reading Fantasies
Guilty
I’ve hinted that my headmaster, Montague Brummell-Hicks, viewed me as a boy in need of control and correction. He seemed to have dark suspicions of my character and this irked me from the earliest days, for I saw there were other boys, more handsome and sunny of disposition, whom he favoured. Though I was undeniably… Continue reading Guilty
Mr Sudell
One could write a memoir based on where one spent each night of one’s life. It would be like a tune on the black keys only, or a painting of the spaces between things, not the things themselves. But there would be blanks in my memoir if I tried that. I can remember when I… Continue reading Mr Sudell
Back Home from Hospital
I was admitted to hospital in January 1949, before my 7th birthday, as covered in a previous post. When I reached home from hospital I was pleased to find I had a proper bedroom. Well, it was my baby sister’s room. Her cot had been moved to my parents’ room and I was assigned a… Continue reading Back Home from Hospital
Released from hospital
It takes effort to wrestle the facts from memory. I thought that it was summer when I came out of hospital, and that it had been a six-month stay. But I was discharged in time to see a long queue outside a tobacconist / candy store in Harold Place, Hastings. The public record confirms that… Continue reading Released from hospital
About writing and reading
Writing and Reading, a post from readingwithouttears.blogspot.com, now only visible from archive.com as http://quotidianstuff.blogspot.com/ and originally called Stringing Words Together Twenty-five years ago, I bought The Art of Writing, a volume in the "Made Simple" series. It had been written ten years earlier and has an out-of-date feel now. So what? I feel out-of tune with… Continue reading About writing and reading
Dr Johnson and Blockheads
. . . he uniformly adhered to this strange opinion, which his indolent disposition made him utter: ‘No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.’ Numerous instances to refute this will occur to all who are versed in the history of literature. (Boswell) What would Dr Johnson think of us blogheads? “Blogheads not… Continue reading Dr Johnson and Blockheads
The “Nothing Girl”
Cute Trick 1945 - Art Frahm No blog-writer has to apologize for liberal use of the words “I” and “me”. It’s expected. But when you read mine, one-off or regular, you’ll be implicitly aware that my “I” is a lens for looking at the big mysteries of life. It is through the personal that I… Continue reading The “Nothing Girl”
Stepping out
For several weeks I’ve had nothing new to say. Were this a movie, my wordlessness could be wordlessly conveyed. The scene opens to a man turning the platen of his typewriter to feed in a fresh white sheet of paper. Surrounding him are bookshelves on all sides. He stares at the blank sheet. After much… Continue reading Stepping out
Ce Que Vouldras
I can see out of my office window to an interesting landscape, though it’s blurred by a film of reflective sunscreen which they’ve stuck on the glass. It’s a view of a new residential development: little houses, roads, flags advertising the Marketing Suite, bulldozers, workers, drainage, dried mud. In the foreground is Peacock Farm, very… Continue reading Ce Que Vouldras
Love to all
It has been wonderful to share with you, reading your comments and being drawn to visit your own blogs too, over almost a year. You have encouraged me to start a book, and so these posts won’t be the same any more. I can’t keep posting excerpts as in my last post because the writing… Continue reading Love to all
Managing my time on earth
In the Eighties, the Filofax was the thing to have. In the Nineties, time management courses using Filofaxes or equivalent were the answer to everyone’s problem. I still keep a Lotus Organizer program for storing phone numbers, copied ten years ago from a cute little IBM ThinkPad laptop whose keyboard opened out like a butterfly’s… Continue reading Managing my time on earth
Choosing mediocrity
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve chosen eccentricity as an alternative spiritual path. I was encouraged down this track by reading John Cowper Powys, who I consider to be the greatest novelist in English of the twentieth century, despite being hardly known. He was noted for obsessive fetishes, like baptising his walking sticks in rivers. I’d… Continue reading Choosing mediocrity
Angelic Brightness
Simon Templar (“The Saint”) is the twentieth century Robin Hood. I have not encountered him on the screen and only read a few stories of his exploits, though I did recently thrill to the swashbuckling of Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood directed by Michael Curtiz in 1938. And now I’ve encountered a co-author of The Saint.… Continue reading Angelic Brightness
Angels and us
At some point in the Christmas season the pathos converts to joy; just as grape juice needs only yeast and a little time to turn into wine. This is the Christmas miracle, repeated every year: “Peace, goodwill to men”. I used to think it was a supernatural thing, as though some power, God I suppose,… Continue reading Angels and us
The Poignant Past
Yes, time can be a spiral, as Cream pointed out in her comment on my last. But it can seem like a circle of recurrence too, as the season evokes emotions long past. I’ve been wanting to write of life’s pathos for weeks now, but today it caught up with me, with an inescapable twisting… Continue reading The Poignant Past
Like wildfire
I woke in the night and fell victim to a train of thought, so insistent in its claim to significance that the only way to shut it off was turn on a bedside light and scribble some words in my notebook, raw and unpolished. It did the trick, I returned to slumber and then in… Continue reading Like wildfire
New Morning
In the last few days something happened to me. It felt as though “I have found my power”. In 1972 I read some shortened English version of Valmiki’s Ramayana, which if my memory is not distorted began with some yogis competing for “powers” (called siddhis) through fierce meditation, zealous fasting and strenuous renunciation. Looking back,… Continue reading New Morning
Punishment or happiness
“Motivation is a major problem and one of the factors for people failing to meet their goals in life. So what do you do to get motivated?” I saw this question, with ensuing discussion, in a social media forum that I knew quite well (Ecademy, now defunct) Other participants didn't find it at all strange.… Continue reading Punishment or happiness
Powys and the dead frog
I don’t normally post extended quotes, but this—including the dead frog—expresses in more masterly language what I would have liked to write today. "When one considers how dependent we all are—especially such parasitic weaklings as artists, poets, writers, priests, philosophers—upon the hard one-track energies of the industrious producers and shrewd traders, it seems only fair… Continue reading Powys and the dead frog
Having no enemies
Many people supposedly educated don’t understand that the meaning of a word is in its use. Dictionary compilers know this of course, for their task consists in collecting usage as lepidopterists collect butterflies, pinning them to a board and labelling them. Dictionary compilers follow, not lead. So, as Alice learned, we are free to use… Continue reading Having no enemies
On the Side of the Angels
In everyday life I act as though there is a power beyond Nature, that brings luck, answers prayers and sometimes sends miracles. When catastrophe strikes, I assume that in some way it is all for the best, at least in my own life and the small circle of those I know well. I accept that… Continue reading On the Side of the Angels
Flat-Bottomed Clouds
What triggers the experience of magic I care not. For me it is immersion in Nature. Wild flowers, trees, caterpillars, hills, seashore, clouds. I had a guru who advised focusing on the breath as a way to enlightenment. It was boring, and though I did it for years and years, I can’t see what good… Continue reading Flat-Bottomed Clouds
From a nest of terrorists
High Wycombe is no different now that it has been exposed as the home of several “monsters of evil”, who wanted to “commit mass murder on an unimaginable scale”. It’s still a place where races and religions work seamlessly together. Good neighbourliness is the norm. This morning my car’s battery ran down again. So I… Continue reading From a nest of terrorists
Sex Therapy book
I've no idea where this snippet came from, perhaps this book, which I've written about in another post Sexual problems are not necessarily a reflection of a relationship's quality. They may, however, affect this if the couple are unable to manage any resulting anxiety, shame or distress. Thus, the 'problem' may have been easily fixed,… Continue reading Sex Therapy book
Sex Therapy
The other day I called at a friend’s house to give her a book and she gave me one in return, by a sex therapist. Before you wonder the significance of this exchange, I hasten to add that the book’s co-author, a professional writer, is a friend of hers, and presumably had left her with… Continue reading Sex Therapy
Zorba the Greek
I’m glad not to have yet seen the film of Zorba the Greek, for it is the book which speaks to me, as I savour a few pages for the first time each day. The film must be full of colour and atmosphere and dancing and dulcimer-playing, but Kazantzakis in the book covers spiritual search… Continue reading Zorba the Greek
Cosmic Ordering Service
Updated on August 28th, 2025, as Ottokar's is sadly no more I have written on this blog about how I’ve beamed out my needs to the Universe, and had them promptly delivered, like pizza to the doorstep. I was careful not to join the chorus of New Age coaches who proclaim, “You, too, can learn… Continue reading Cosmic Ordering Service
Angels and Grace
Personally, I’m glad to be able to simply say “What happens, happens”. I don't need metaphysical explanations such as Inshallah (if God wills it). Or poetic extravagances like the fall of Lucifer from the angels to end up as Satan, to explain the existence of evil in the world I've always thought there's more to… Continue reading Angels and Grace
Memories, Dreams, Reflections
"I am reading Memories, Dreams, Reflections by CG Jung, a work I had avoided till now, partly because I felt that the Jungians were the most terrible idolaters on the planet. However, this is mostly not Jung’s fault, just as being turned into a god was mostly not Jesus’s fault. The beauty of reading Jung… Continue reading Memories, Dreams, Reflections
Suffusion of yellow
Landlord came with 2 tall Poles who piggy-backed up into the loft space and swiftly hatched a plan to mend my leaking roof. So then I went to find a field of yellow (oilseed rape), and its neighbour (such a profound green - the young leaves of corn). A deer with big rump and white… Continue reading Suffusion of yellow
The Mindless Maid
We owe the word robot to a play by a Czech, Carel Copek, staged in 1920. The underlying concept however was far older. Indeed, ten years previously a one-act play was published about an automatic housemaid—Mechanical Jane. Such little dramas as this were intended as amateur productions for the drawing room; they did not deal… Continue reading The Mindless Maid
I Leap Over the Wall
I bought this book in 1994 from a bookshop in Folkestone. The proprietor was a very old man, Above the Introduction, he'd pencilled 10p, a bargain like the three or four other I bought at the same time, each of unique interest. Why did a nun leap over the wall? The page below says enough,… Continue reading I Leap Over the Wall
Modern Encyclopaedia for Children
Around 1951, while I was at Merrion House Preparatory School at, I acquired this book. I never knew where my things came from. They might have been dropped off by my grandfather in his 1930s car. This one was mostly boring, told me things I had no context for, but these pages were fascinating me:… Continue reading Modern Encyclopaedia for Children