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
Category: other lands
Life-story part 2
I looked again at this post today, it's not good enough, nobody will follow its intricacies, & nobody but I will care. Will try to make it more readable. Consider it as under refurbishment. "My father died in the war," I used to say, "so I never met him." It wasn't true but I wasn't… Continue reading Life-story part 2
Life-story, part 1
I want to tell the story of my entire life up to the present: the bare-bones series of events, with no fanciful embroidery. Let it be like a series of chess moves without the expert commentary. Let it be like a dispassionate ship's log. Let the facts tell their own story. As far as possible,… Continue reading Life-story, part 1
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
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
The Howrah Bridge Palmist
I’ve already published five stories by Ghetufoool (that’s his pen-name) here. He’s kindly given permission for me to publish “The Palmist”, possibly his best. Five years ago I designed a cover for a projected book of his stories. He had an objection—see comments below. But never mind that, at least six of his stories will… Continue reading The Howrah Bridge Palmist
Dreaming of Paris
I hardly know Paris.* That’s what inspires me to write about it, at book length if necessary; so that I can fill out that slight acquaintance with a body of research, and report back. The research is not to be carried out through the study of texts (other than my own notes), but through the… Continue reading Dreaming of Paris
Sleeper Class
Here’s another guest post from Ghetufool, the fourth of his stories that I’ve published on Wayfarer's The Travelling Companion 1: THANK YOU, ANGELS! Mr Sarkar’s journey hadn’t started well. After six hours, with another thirty to go, he was cursing himself for coming by train. But Mr Sarkar was the beneficiary of crack management training.… Continue reading Sleeper Class
In the days of low sun
My town is centred on a narrow river valley running east and west and surrounded by hills whose ridges and valleys radiate like spokes of a wheel. This morning I drove down Hamilton Road, which offers the broadest vista of the town as you descend the hill. It was soon after dawn with a hard… Continue reading In the days of low sun
a wayfarer’s notes 