stories by Ghetufool posted Free As a Bird 1 May 08 Ticket to Paradise 16 Jan 12 Everything Knows 8 Jun 12 The Travelling Companion 16 Feb 13 Piklu and the Old Man 21 apr 13 The Howrah Bridge Palmist 29 jul 13 The Wretched 26 jun 18 From a Thief 9 feb 07
Category: places
Visit to Dalkey in 2014
"The James Joyce Tower and Museum is a Martello tower in Sandycove, Dublin, where James Joyce spent six nights in 1904.[1] The opening scenes of his 1922 novel Ulysses take place here, and the tower is a place of pilgrimage for Joyce enthusiasts, especially on Bloomsday. Admission is free. The novel starts like this: "Stately,… Continue reading Visit to Dalkey in 2014
Classical Music of Africa
This song by Sona Jobarteh is surely an Ode To Joy for our present age. The video shows a loving and idealized portrait of modern West Africa, steeped in traditional roots Up to the middle of the 19th century, classical music came from Central Europe. Sona has absorbed this tradition from early childhood, interwoven with… Continue reading Classical Music of Africa
Joy without a cause
I tell you naught for your comfort, Yea, naught for your desire, Save that the sky grows darker yet And the sea rises higher. Night shall be thrice night over you, And heaven an iron cope. Do you have joy without a cause, Yea, faith without a hope Inspired by G.K. Chesterton's Ballad of the… Continue reading Joy without a cause
Shapes
As I lay awake this morning before getting up, a great procession of thoughts came to visit me. Thoughts? I'm not sure what a thought is. They were dwelling-places of the imagination, like images from a waking dream. I guess they were prompted by my last post, which suggested I’d work on my life-story; and… Continue reading Shapes
Here in October
From Bryan White Greetings! Summer has ended here in Phoenix, and I have to say, the weather has been beautiful. It's been cool and pleasant enough to open the windows -- and it's always the sweetest air that comes through open windows. We had a genuine rainy day (a couple of them actually) last week,… Continue reading Here in October
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
The Exchange of Gifts
As Dr Johnson put it: Depend upon it, Sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully. Even a personal health scare, when you don’t really know what’s going on, does concentrate the mind to an extent, till you decide that it’s going to be all… Continue reading The Exchange of Gifts
The Towers of Cybele
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 The Towers of Cybele
Pastures New
I posted this when I decided to transfer from Blogger to WordPress on 15th November 2015
If I had stayed in Cowes
We took a short day-trip to The Island. I went to live there aged 12 and left at 18, so it speaks to me in tones of a golden hue, of all that I did there—and didn’t. Especially in Cowes, East and West, where I lived first. It remains much as it was sixty years… Continue reading If I had stayed in Cowes
Brexit dream 3
I dreamt about Clive again, along with two other friends. We’ve been on a trip to Brussels (as I did with school friends in ’58): the headquarters of the European Union. Now it’s time to go back. Our Metro train has just arrived at Brussels Midi, the terminus for the Eurostar train to London. You… Continue reading Brexit dream 3
Our Trip to Brussels in 2016
On 22 March 2016, two coordinated terrorist attacks in and close to Brussels, Belgium, were carried out by the Islamic State (IS). Two suicide bombers detonated bombs at Brussels Airport in Zaventem just outside Brussels, and one detonated a bomb on a train leaving Maelbeek/Maelbeek metro station in the European Quarter of Brussels. Thirty-two people… Continue reading Our Trip to Brussels in 2016
Our planned trip to Brussels
There were bombings in Brussels two days ago, at the Airport and a Metro Station, by a group calling itself Islamic State. g The last time I went there was in 1958, along with three friends my age, to see the Brussels World Fair, the first of its kind after World War II. Countries built… Continue reading Our planned trip to Brussels
Death Row
Yesterday the young man who shot 12 people in a cinema was sentenced to life imprisonment with no chance of release, though some had expected the death penalty. No one has any idea why he did it—the court said it wasn’t relevant. I wasn’t interested in the verdict or his motives. It was just a… Continue reading Death Row
Parallel Lives
In my last I tried to convey something of the fascination of Cowes in a few shots all taken within a hundred yards of each other. But I’m hardly interested in picturesqueness for its own sake; only in what touches the soul. Moving to Cowes in 1954 was the beginning of a new life. Till… Continue reading Parallel Lives
Full Circle
. I've kept this post in for the comments only See "The Buddha and the Corpse" for a more interesting post
“They hold life cheap”
The subtitle of Karen Armstrong’s latest book Fields of Blood is “Religion and the History of Violence”. At the end of my last I said she was arguing the wrong case, and promised to write a follow-up post nominating the right case. This is the best I can do. As to whether religion is involved,… Continue reading “They hold life cheap”
At the Blue Note Café
It was dusk, on a winding country road hemmed in by darkening hedgerows on either side. Round a bend, I suddenly saw two mediaeval peasants trudging along at the roadside, bearing staffs and bundles and what looked like bamboo hats on their backs. I was led back in memory to the Blue Note Café by… Continue reading At the Blue Note Café
The Practice of Compassion
We arrived on foot from our house in England, aided by 2 buses and a plane across the Irish Sea. Hunger and thirst took priority over shelter so we went straight to the Patriots, a fine old pub well-named and well-placed. Another day the thirst for culture took us to the IMMA and the life-changing… Continue reading The Practice of Compassion
Inside Out
previously published only on Blogger Where is it, this book I long thought I would write some day, when I had the time? I have had that time in the last seven years, almost limitless in its horizon, though doled out in surprisingly small quantities each day. I used some of it to write this… Continue reading Inside Out
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
The Travelling Companion
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 The Travelling Companion
From Handwriting to Eternity
As an art form, the blog has extraordinary possibilities. It’s a “magic theatre: entrance not for everybody”. Anybody may come and peek, but those for whom it’s not intended will swiftly move on. This theatre’s producer—I mean the blog author—may put on a new show every day, or hardly ever. In the public imagination the… Continue reading From Handwriting to Eternity
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
Capturing the Moment
I was going to write about Wales. And then I was going to write about child looters rampaging the evening streets of English cities. I probably won’t finish either of these essays though they exist in partial drafts. So here instead are a few photos of a recent camping trip. You can click on them… Continue reading Capturing the Moment
When memory strikes
Why do people remember where they were when they heard of the death of President Kennedy? I have a mental snapshot of my precise surroundings when I heard of the deaths of King George VI, Marilyn Monroe, John Kennedy, John Lennon and Princess Diana. As to when Martin Luther King and Elvis Presley died, I… Continue reading When memory strikes
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
Lisbon
To mark a double celebration, we took a few days off in Lisbon, a city of beauty and charm which I’ll try and convey in snapshots rather than words. Click on any picture to enlarge it. Our hotel was not far from the great Praça do Marquês Pombal, above. I didn’t discover who the Marquess… Continue reading Lisbon
Possessed by a god
Suppose I took it on myself to explain what a blog is, to someone who’d never encountered the idea. How would I go about it? Is there a common root to which all blogs are connected? I’m not thinking so much of topics, which are clearly as diverse as the authors themselves. But I wonder… Continue reading Possessed by a god
Keeper of Souls
The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: yea, it is even he that shall keep thy soul. I saw this on a tombstone at Hambleden, a tiny village that doesn’t seem to have changed since the Middle Ages. For all I know it may be still enmeshed in the feudal system, though its origins… Continue reading Keeper of Souls
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
Encounters on the Phoenix Trail
It was the most spring-like day this year and the urge to be out in it without delay overcame lengthy consideration of where to go. I considered the Phoenix trail to be unfinished business (see post before last) because I hadn’t walked its full length. Still haven’t, as a matter of fact. But there are… Continue reading Encounters on the Phoenix Trail
Seven stylish things
Bryan M. White, that onlie begetter of Nuclear Headache, has burdened me with an award nomination as a Stylish Blogger. Never fear: if you are already in my blog-list below, and have taken the trouble to read this far, you’re ipso facto stylish enough. There is, as always, a catch. You can’t win the lottery… Continue reading Seven stylish things
The Chilterns
This is specially for Ashok, for comparison of the Chilterns with his real hills at Nainital. Here, the height above sea-level is never more than 200 metres. These vistas are all within walking distance of my house, which is near the middle of town, in the factory district. St Lawrence’s Church & Dashwood Mausoleum, photographed… Continue reading The Chilterns
Angst and Angels
Abstract ideas are all very well but unless you can feel them in your body or soul, you have no way of knowing if they are real. They might be the bastard children of human intellect mating with heaven-knows-what. So when Raymond proposed that existential angst is a universal experience, it left me unmoved. I… Continue reading Angst and Angels
Graffiti
Further to my last, Rebb and Ashok doubtless speak for a majority in their negative attitude towards urban graffiti. I’ve evolved a different view, as expressed in several posts—see excerpts below. The illustrations are taken from this post on 27th April ’07. But where do the people walk? Yesterday in the drizzle I stepped carefully… Continue reading Graffiti
Gerrards Cross
My wanderings usually take me through wild footpaths and unpretentious housing estates. I’ve had no occasion to visit the village of Gerrards Cross, which “has a reputation for being very upmarket and exclusive, with house prices being considerably higher than average. Located in the commuter belt of London, the village is the most expensive postcode… Continue reading Gerrards Cross
Jamaican album
This is a personal selection from 175 photos taken on the trip. Most are of reunions with Karleen’s family and friends, after five years’ absence. I will not bore you with that kind of vacation snaps; only with these! Jamaica has beautiful skies like England (or most places). These were taken from our hotel in… Continue reading Jamaican album
There and back
I'm not well up on the Odyssey. Isn’t it Homer’s tale of a long trip home? His hero Ulysses wants nothing more than to get back to his wife Penelope, his dog, and the embers of a familiar hearth. Home is that cosy place where nothing changes, that springboard from which a restless man leaves… Continue reading There and back
From Jamaica
There are tourists, travellers and explorers. We were staying with Auntie Jean in a country area, of which more in a future post, no doubt. We had planned to be tourists for at least half a day but that was progressively downgraded. Ocho Rios & Dunn's River Falls were too far; Negril was too expensive.… Continue reading From Jamaica
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
Holiday Job
This post had photos of the holiday camp as it was around then, but they've been lost. They were probably picked from Google Images After graduation I was determined not to stay in my parents' bungalow any more. Especially because my mother was curious about how I'd got on with Christina after my brief visit… Continue reading Holiday Job
Tooting Broadway dude
Three years ago my son gave me a denim jacket carrying the Caterpillar label. He’d got it from someone sharing the same student lodgings, who had submitted a number of original designs to Caterpillar. They made a few prototypes and mine is one, perhaps the only one of its exact style in existence. I’ve worn… Continue reading Tooting Broadway dude
Heaven-haven
Deep within me there hides a contemplative nun, who wants to do nothing in this world but observe its wondrous mysteries and pray for its wellbeing. It’s rather disturbing for a man to find this buried beneath his ingrained habit of action—to be always doing, whether or not it’s reasonable: action for the sake of… Continue reading Heaven-haven
X: the unknown
Aerial View of San Francisco in the Fifties showing Coit Tower from avaloncm on flickr Consider the game of peekaboo. In England the mother says “Peep-bo!” when she reappears after hiding, and the baby gurgles in delight. Then she hides again, nothing elaborate, just ducks out of sight, and the baby starts to become anxious.… Continue reading X: the unknown
This blessed plot
If I have a favourite spot it is Cowes, or more precisely five acres overlooking the Solent, the strait which separates the Isle of Wight from the English mainland. I lived there aged thirteen for a year; and again at seventeen, at a different house nearby. Each was a front-row seat at a non-stop theatre… Continue reading This blessed plot
A fig-leaf for David
It’s the 6th of August 1962. I’m sitting on the steps outside the Duomo, Florence’s cathedral, trying to work out whether I’m a student, an ex-student or merely a tourist. I’ve recently arrived from Marseille, where I spent some weeks—I've no idea how many; and I have not yet located my fellow-students of Italian language… Continue reading A fig-leaf for David
Cowes Horizons
In process of being restored When you live in East Cowes, your attention is drawn to horizons. Boats are constantly coming and going. All kinds: ferries, tankers, container ships, yachts, dinghies, powerboats, even fishing vessels perhaps. And it’s not just the visual movement that draws your attention to far away. The first evening, when we… Continue reading Cowes Horizons
Only the bicycle shed still stands
It’s fifty-four years since I lived in East Cowes. It has the air of being past its best, but it had the same air in 1954, so you can say it has hardly changed. Fifty-four years before I lived there, Queen Victoria was still alive and she lived there too, in the house she had… Continue reading Only the bicycle shed still stands
Pilgrimage to Cowes
I've had my camera two years but only recently realized it can hold hundreds of photos if I put in a larger memory card. Just as well, because I was able to take some beautiful photos of a recent visit to the island where I spent my teenage years, the Isle of Wight. Here's a… Continue reading Pilgrimage to Cowes
Cherishing the past
Many are they who suppose a blog---such a today thing!---to be ephemeral (“beginning and ending in a day”) in its subject-matter and interest to others. Why should it be so? I celebrate the past, like this stately galleon on the ocean of time, its stern riding proud and high, its prow dipping into the billows… Continue reading Cherishing the past
Back in the Rain
We arrived home in the stilly hours of Sunday morning, in steady reassuring rain: a rain which has intensified through this public holiday. The home improvement shops have extra staff on duty in expectation of their busiest day, but with my dripping umbrella, I’m one of the few who make the trip. Intending to install… Continue reading Back in the Rain
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
Belonging
The day after posting my last, I felt cleansed, as a Catholic might feel after a visit to the confessional. Burdens removed, joy restored. I had published only a small selection of what I’d drafted, but had never felt such catharsis from writing, if it is justifiable to link effect and cause in this way.… Continue reading Belonging
The New Pub
These photos are specially for Jim, who asked what the ancient farm illustrated in my last post looks like now that it's a pub. I wanted to take some photos of the inside too, but the camera's batteries died. The first photo was taken from the same position as the old one: on the footbridge… Continue reading The New Pub
MaxiRam revisited
This is MaxiRam Castle, code-name for the place where I worked in 2007 from February to August. Each noon I emerged for an hour-long walk and in those seven months, taking no days of leave, I combed the parks and roads and byways, in a sort of sacred ritual. It connected me with my primitive… Continue reading MaxiRam revisited
Fog on the Solent (Norfolk House 5)
The Solent may have been the busiest sea-lane in the world and the most varied in its traffic. There were ferries between the mainland and our Island; the Royal Navy base at Portsmouth; the transatlantic liner port at Southampton; the Sawley Oil Refinery where tankers plied from the Gulf; and innumerable sailing craft. The Royal… Continue reading Fog on the Solent (Norfolk House 5)
Norfolk House 4: Vignettes
Illustration from a wood engraving by Eric Gill Please note that the Norfolk House story begins at “Nest of Dreams”, so I’ve numbered that “0”. Also that the mention of my “man-flu” affliction introducing yesterday’s piece was a warning that it would be rough. It’s edited extensively now. In “Nest of Dreams” I referred to… Continue reading Norfolk House 4: Vignettes
Woodside
Aged eight to eleven, I was often taken by my mother & stepfather to Woodside, on the Isle of Wight, in the summer holidays. We reach the end of the country road. A sign says Woodside House Private and we go through the white gate, down a long winding drive to a red-brick residence, from… Continue reading Woodside
On Coombe Hill
My favourite and only sport is frisbee. No rules, no training, no special clothing. The only equipment required is a plastic disk available from any general store. It holds an hypnotic attraction for participants and spectators alike. Above all, it’s not competitive. It’s co-operative: you adjust your throw so that the other person can catch… Continue reading On Coombe Hill
Mission to Babylon
MaxiRam and Babylon Town were my code names respectively for the Fujitsu Corporation and the town of Bracknell, in Berkshire It is the fate of beautiful English towns to have been raped by mass ownership of the motorcar. You can see the ugly scars: inner-ring roads, underpasses, flyovers, clusters of roundabouts, out-of town retail parks,… Continue reading Mission to Babylon
a wayfarer’s notes 