Category: living things
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
Elemental
I scribble ideas aimlessly, nothing wrong with that. But then I fall under the spell of supposing this will generate “creative writing”, whatever that may be; something from which value can be directly harvested. It’s better to think of it as rotten fruit, to be cast out and forgotten. Some time later we may discover… Continue reading Elemental
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
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
Soul of an animal
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 Soul of an animal
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
Creation myth
In the beginning was the void. How big was it? How long did it last? It’s impossible to say because time and space had not yet been created. Let’s imagine it as an empty matchbox. The Prime Mover, impatient for things to start, opened the box and the void escaped like a genie from a… Continue reading Creation myth
Not understanding much
A BBC magazine programme about science, Material World on Radio 4, reports an ongoing study into the possible homing instincts of snails. I was interested, as a regular reader of this blog would not be surprised to learn. They are marking the snail shells with white correction fluid for identification; moving the snails somewhere else;… Continue reading Not understanding much
Bird-talk
I’ve been interested in the conversations of birds since a day in March 1971, in the churchyard of Hinderwell, a village in North Yorkshire. I had chewed a small square of wallpaper, which had been soaked in LSD. I learned the language of the rooks, almost. But that is a story for another day. This… Continue reading Bird-talk
Cornfields near Amersham Old Town
Dedicated to Joanne (Serenity) because she is an artist and may appreciate the colours and textures. I'm in the process of writing and editing something else, so not many words today. From Chalfont St Giles, looking towards Amersham The colours are at their most seductive before the barley is ripe This is even truer of… Continue reading Cornfields near Amersham Old Town
To Hayden, on pets
I think Hayden is my longest-serving, faithfullest blogging friend. But when she writes about Jake, my empathy isn’t immediate. I prefer a cool relationship with wild animals who go their own way at their own pace, and don’t beg from me with soulful eyes. Slugs spring to mind, or rats. I’ve written here several times… Continue reading To Hayden, on pets
Glimpsing Eternity
When we speak of God or gods, it’s to express the otherwise inexpressible. This is something that atheists and materialists seem to wilfully misunderstand, when they say that it’s irrational to believe what you cannot see. As you’ll see from various entries in this blog, there are two kinds of immortal I can’t do without… Continue reading Glimpsing Eternity
Eternity in the City
This was written in the early Nineties and published on a website, before the dawn of blogs Cloistered all day, I had forgotten once again that an outside world existed. In a windowless office I saw no seasons, no day, no night. There was only harsh lighting, never switched off. The shock of emerging into… Continue reading Eternity in the City
Life’s Predicament
Woke up this morning to recall that it’s my first ordinary day for weeks. I've emerged from a season of interruptedness, in which celebration took the form of reuniting with family; not all at once in a single gathering but serially; noting my kinship and resemblance with this one or that; seeing the big or… Continue reading Life’s Predicament
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
Lehman Brothers bites the dust
I’m not a complete stranger to the world of investment banking. Morgan Grenfell sent me to Dublin for a while in ’85 to test a new system they’d commissioned. More recently, some time in the Nineties, I visited the London headquarters of Lehman Brothers, I can’t recall what for, but had to wait in their… Continue reading Lehman Brothers bites the dust
In the Industrial Valley
rescued from archive.com on Saturday September 20th 2025 I shall take you on a guided tour of my part of town. We are in the valley bottom, where the factories were built at the end of the nineteenth century. I don't know what was there before. I haven't seen any houses older than 1872. This… Continue reading In the Industrial Valley
Cherry tree
I’ve been wanting to dedicate a whole post to my cherry tree but couldn’t justify it. When commenting on other people’s blogs, I have fewer inhibitions, as in this, to Michael Peverett, re his post “Prunus continued”: . . . I was interested in your prunus pictures because I bought a small fruiting cherry tree… Continue reading Cherry tree
Slug life
A slug theme has been slithering through my last two posts, leaving the question hanging whether my blocking of cracks in the floor would disturb the migration habits of this humble gastropod. Since I had additionally panelled that corner of the kitchen, fitting the pieces closely, except for one part of the plinth which will… Continue reading Slug life
As a novice
I live in the poorest quarter of town*, sandwiched between factories, some derelict and some still in use like the one directly across the road. Many of the Pakistani owners of houses like mine have let rooms to migrant workers: hundreds of them are engaged on building a new shopping/leisure complex in town. † Their… Continue reading As a novice
Rats and Us
This was written while I was working at Fujitsu in Bracknell. It was my custom to walk for an hour each lunchtime, and let thoughts flit through my brain, often composing a blog post in my head, or dictating it into my voice recorder. I've been in a dark mood lately. We notice especially that… Continue reading Rats and Us
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
Duckling traffic
I went to Mama Iris’ for a breadfruit and a pound of yam. I’d taken the camera to snap a vent on the roof of the Baptist Church, next to the Mosque. A man was standing in the crossroads, in the traffic’s way, so I went to see why. Ducks were taking to water and… Continue reading Duckling traffic
Prophecies
I went to last summer’s sunflower field. It’s been flattened and lightly manured, a pervasive smell of old cow-dung in the air. Three sunflowers were still standing, much as in my last visit: skeletal, downcast. I needed hat and gloves for the field is exposed; the wind bore the sharp sting of sleet. The neighbouring… Continue reading Prophecies
Divine Anarchy
I want to speak theologically, to say what I think about God and angels. But then, it’s a bit hard putting abstractions into words. No, that’s completely wrong. It is all too easy to put abstractions into words, and give them an imaginary reality. So I’m rather glad to find myself talking about bees and… Continue reading Divine Anarchy
Fragile
The eastern sky glowed golden yesterday morning, over the chimney pots and the tower of All Saints’ Parish Church. I saw the outline of a hundred wheeling birds, swallows I think, gathering for their departure to North Africa. Later as I went walking, some half-denuded shrubs were full of birds chirping and hopping excitedly from… Continue reading Fragile
The human condition
In the spring and summer of this year 2006 I opened all my senses, not just the usual five, to Nature. I’m searching here for an adequate word, but Nature will have to do. I exposed myself to the sublime and intricate world of non-human life, its pathos and grandeur. I discovered that lambs and… Continue reading The human condition
Pheasant
Where we live, there's a magnificent network of public footpaths and bridleways, allowing everyone to explore the Chiltern Hills. It would be be possible to roam even more widely, if it were not for various signs saying, “PRIVATE – please keep out”. These restrictions are to encourage the breeding of this creature—the pheasant. I found… Continue reading Pheasant
Caterpillar
On a warm but overcast day, we went up Lodge Hill. With my box of pastels and a sketch pad, I felt like Vincent van Gogh going out to do a day’s work. Before I knew its real name, we (kids and I) used to call it Butterfly Hill, because in August particularly it was… Continue reading Caterpillar
A Grave Spot Unearthed
X marks the spot. PH: "public house" (Crown Inn) A few weeks ago, Karleen and I had taken a cross-country walk near the ancient Buckinghamshire village of Penn. The Penns of Penn were reputed to be closely connected to William Penn of Pennsylvania, but in any case many religious dissenters from these parts had emigrated… Continue reading A Grave Spot Unearthed
To the Reader
What you see started off as playing with the Blogger software, to see what it could do. So it’s an experiment, but not limited to technical stuff. What I write may be fact or fiction, anything I freely choose; until you add a comment, and it may be a dialogue. Who knows where it might… Continue reading To the Reader
a wayfarer’s notes 