"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:… Continue reading Visit to Dalkey in 2014
Tag: interesting pictures
An African Sampler
This was published in 2014 and then lost till yesterday, when I decided to put labels on my most treasured CDs. See this video (opens in a separate tab); also this post “Greater than the sum of the parts”. The guiding principle for the selection of tracks was to pick some personal favourites. I’ve made it unbalanced… Continue reading An African Sampler
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
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 hopeInspired by G.K. Chesterton's Ballad of the White… 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
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
“outnumbered by blessings”
It was one of those "whisperings" that I get occasionally when the conscious mind is quiescent. The brain can do funny things. Shostakovich had a fragment of shrapnel lodged in his, left over from WWII. When he held his head at a certain angle he heard music. All he had to do was write it… Continue reading “outnumbered by blessings”
Eleventh Child
I woke in the night after a dream, went downstairs to jot it down in the great leatherbound book from Margaret in Canada; then went back to bed and slept again. On awakening once more in the morning, I jotted down another dream. I tried to polish up the drafts into something coherent, but it… Continue reading Eleventh Child
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 right… Continue reading The Exchange of Gifts
Everything fits together
Things fit together, said I. That’s what they are supposed to do, said K. 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 Everything fits together
John o’Saturn meets women from Earth
Written in 2002 for La Lettre Powysienne, a periodical edited by Jacquelline 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
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)
Four Weddings and a Funeral
We managed to make it to his last show yesterday, but not to any of his weddings. That’s him on the left when he came to ours. We didn’t know him well but his acts of kindness were unforgettable. Often it’s the way of things that you don’t find out what a person is till… Continue reading Four Weddings and a Funeral
Around the neighbourhood
I thought I might have nothing to say today, but I managed to get out and take some photos of neighbouring streets in this part of the valley. The people in the Council Offices call it the “Heritage Factory District”. I call it home. It pleases them to put protection orders on derelict buildings simply… Continue reading Around the neighbourhood
Living in a body
In my last I described how a stranger’s eyes met mine in the street. I imagined that his glance said “My soul soars, but I’m stuck in this body.” I don’t claim the power to discern a person’s thought from his silent face. More likely, the thought had lain dormant in me for a while,… Continue reading Living in a body
England’s green and pleasant land
I’ve been agitated lately, it started a day or so before Polling Day. I was astonished to find how much this Referendum mattered to me. In the end I went to the favourite spot I’ve written about before (England Have My Bones) with camera & voice recorder; recalling as I went Ellie’s comment on a… Continue reading England’s green and pleasant land
Brussels
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 their own pavilions, some memorable for their architecture. Today, only the Atomium still stands. I phoned the travel agent about the holiday we’ve… Continue reading Brussels
England Have My Bones
“God keep my soul and England have my bones.”—T. H. White, after Shakespeare 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… Continue reading England Have My Bones
A trip back
When I was 12 I lived in East Cowes, shown above on the left of the creek they call the River Medina. The next year we moved across to West Cowes. The two sides of Cowes are joined by a chain ferry. The constant to-and-fro of yachts on the Medina with their tall masts makes… Continue reading A trip back
Into the Zone: a trip
" /> The Precinct looking west Trip, n(1): 3. A short voyage or journey; a ‘run’. Apparently originally a sailor’s term, but very soon extended to a journey on land. 5. slang (orig. U.S.) a. A hallucinatory experience induced by a drug, esp. LSD. I’ve learned that following others isn’t my way. Nor do I… Continue reading Into the Zone: a trip
Here I am
It took a while to find a spot on a nearby hill for a photo showing where I live and what my house looks like. A blossoming tree obscures it but I've highlighted the approximate location. On Sunday morning I walked to a local supermarket for fresh milk and bread. I felt a tangible perfection… Continue reading Here I am
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 fresh air alone
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 your membership remains free for life. Otherwise you need to be escorted as a guest. I’ll do my best to take you to… Continue reading On fresh air alone
The Human Condition
To be alive is such a blessing that we rarely find ourselves able to grasp it. To feel this blessing in the moment is the most precious thing I know. Briefly I wondered if it makes grammatical sense to say “It’s a blessing to be alive,” for we are not in a position to compare… Continue reading The Human Condition
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
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
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
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
At sixteen
With contemporaries: I’m at far right Here is the text of the essay I referred to in my last, as written in 1958. I don’t suppose it is intrinsically entertaining. To lighten it I’ve embedded some group photos in which my face may be seen, and an aerial shot of the place, Swainston Manor, which… Continue reading At sixteen
Me and the Little Rock Nine
My Headmaster’s great vision Now that my birthday’s out of the way—it’s become a family event, this year bigger than last—the most exciting thing going on in my life is Winter’s retreat and Spring’s approach: the great drama of the seasons. I like it when nothing more than that is happening, for then I can… Continue reading Me and the Little Rock Nine
Amsterdam
I have a special relationship to Holland because Mulder is my surname and I spent four months near Arnhem in 1947 staying with my supposed father's sister, Auntie Non. I've described that sojourn here In 2012 we took a break to Holland to celebrate our anniversary and her birthday. The other day I looked for… Continue reading Amsterdam
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
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
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
One moment
One thing that language can do, and I think it only possible in written language, is to unwrap the content of a moment of consciousness, to examine and share it. Perhaps such moments are rare, and the stuff of poetry. Such a one occurred today as I crossed a car park to enter the supermarket.… Continue reading One moment
On Christmas Eve
The Christmas spirit is a special thing. What is this “Peace on earth, goodwill to all men”? It’s tangible, that’s certain. I always feel that I receive it from others, never that I impart it to them. Or if I do emanate any of the glow, I feel it has been ignited first from a… Continue reading On Christmas Eve
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 home, which is pretty much in the middle of town, in the factory district. St Lawrence's Church & Dashwood Mausoleum,… Continue reading The Chilterns
Aylesbury Walkabout
I’m on a section of the “Round Aylesbury Walk”. If you go clockwise, the town is on your right and level countryside is on your left. I talk to myself as I go, into this digital recorder (edited below). Suppose everything is just as it should be, already? Suppose everything goes on being just right,… Continue reading Aylesbury Walkabout
Four-leaf clover
I wrote a piece called Lucky in July 2008. I had wanted to illustrate it with a four-leaved clover, the symbol of luck. I had never found one, though in my dreamy childhood, I must have spent hours searching for them, especially when deployed as a fielder near the boundary of a cricket field. Perhaps… Continue reading Four-leaf clover
A modest school reunion
I often “dwell in the past”. It’s a fabulous museum, where you can look at the same exhibits time and again, and discover new ones you hadn’t noticed before, and see the familiar ones from new angles. My fondness for this pastime owes a lot to my sense that I didn’t live my life fully… Continue reading A modest school reunion
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
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
Enhancing the sky
I suppose I’m generally a fatalist, accepting what comes. “Che sarà, sarà / Whatever will be, will be”. So I rarely have cause to pray for anything. In small ways, I can impose my creative ideas through focused effort and perseverance: for instance keeping the house and garden shipshape. But my scope is narrow, and… Continue reading Enhancing the sky
Quest for happiness
I argued with Charles Bergeman a while ago on the topic of happiness: whether, for example, a five-year-old child could have said to its teacher something like: “I don’t want to be anything when I grow up, I just want to be happy.” I said it didn’t ring true and then I promised to write… Continue reading Quest for happiness
The Long Journey to Now
Click to enlarge. On the back is pencilled “June 15th 1919 Morgan & brother officers” in my grandmother’s writing. I think Morgan is the third from the left 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… Continue reading The Long Journey to Now
Portrait of Two Kings
I'm sure it was done by a professional photographer. I don’t think amateurs would have been able to do much indoor photography in 1867. Electric flashguns had not been invented. If they had, there would be the problem of synchronizing flash with the camera's shutter. I'm no expert but remember from childhood a book which… Continue reading Portrait of Two Kings
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 my last, I encountered… Continue reading Running with Bulls
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
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
Fog on the Solent (Norfolk House 5)
Royal Yacht Squadron, 1921: Norfolk House would be behind tree at right of church tower 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… Continue reading Fog on the Solent (Norfolk House 5)
Norfolk House 4: Vignettes
In “Nest of Dreams” I referred to awakening sexuality. A boy, especially if he has come into contact with no girls, doesn’t necessarily associate his burgeoning virility with those giggling, teasing creatures. It doesn’t surprise me that some take the other direction and stay that way. In my case, wet dreams had always been accompanied… Continue reading Norfolk House 4: Vignettes
Writing Instrument
We think we know somebody. They think they know us. It’s nice because we can always be surprised.My son takes present-buying seriously. He went to a hippy shop and toyed with getting me a piece of angel merchandise or a Native American dream-catcher; but fortunately thought better. I received a hastily-wrapped book and opened it… Continue reading Writing Instrument
Ecstasy and unreason
The single-minded pursuit of ecstasy — that’s what my life is for. Perhaps this is not for everybody, but it’s the only thing that works for me and I’m glad I realised it whilst I still have time. I’ll be resuming my memoirs soon, when things (never mind what) are straightened out a little. The… Continue reading Ecstasy and unreason
Living an Ordinary Life
Written a month after we moved to our present home in Jubilee Road, then updated 10 years later For some months now, I’ve been drawn to the ordinary. I can’t exactly explain why. Perhaps something has rubbed off from walking the streets in Babylon Town and in this narrow valley. I live not far from… Continue reading Living an Ordinary Life
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
New day-school
My most vivid memories are not of the first days at my new day-school, as you might think, but of coming back home each afternoon. I’d been five years at boarding-school and could not imagine a greater luxury. Let out at 3.45, I’d arrive home from a country-bus ride, ravenous. My mother let me cut… Continue reading New day-school
The police arrive
Normally the skirling of police sirens, whilst deafening, passes swiftly enough. This time I subconsciously detected something different. Like a pipe band silenced suddenly by punctures to their windbags, the sirens stopped in mid-skirl, which meant they had stopped at our doorstep. I looked out our first-floor window just in time to see the doors… Continue reading The police arrive
The Deck of Cards
It was the glorious summer of 1960. I had just left school and the world was mine. I went to a seaside resort, Shanklin on the Isle of Wight. I knew nothing about women, girls I should say: I disregarded any over the age of 21. I got a job washing dishes at a hotel,… Continue reading The Deck of Cards
Good and bad
Jim wrote a comment on my last piece, Human Animal. My response grew into this post. Thanks, Jim, for spotting what was missing! My piece for what it’s worth was partly a spontaneous outpouring though I admit a temptation to think of it as philosophy. I am glad you mention good and bad, Jim. These… Continue reading Good and bad
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
Liberation
In the last year I have been reminded, time and again, by smells and various other stimuli, of a period I spent in Holland when I was five. It was a young age for roaming alone in streets and woods, but that's what I did. I’d been dumped with an unwilling bogus “aunt” in a… Continue reading Liberation
Stairway to Heaven
MaxiRam Castle, as its fictitious name implies stands as a grim fortress against the skyline, eleven storeys high. The backside building in my illustration belongs to the same corporation but prettier. It's actually the Fujutsu headquarters in Bracknell but while working there I wanted to write anything freely. I nicknamed Bracknell 'Babylon Town'. Today I… Continue reading Stairway to Heaven
Divine Anarchy
Twilight on Christmas Day: Dashwood Mausoleum (illumined) & St Lawrence’s Church with Golden Ball 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… Continue reading Divine Anarchy
Wasp honey
We’d had family over Christmas, and as luck would have it, just as they were leaving after two days and we were seeing them off, a couple of Karleen's friends arrived with a bag-full of drinks to spend the evening with us. To a solitary like myself, the boredom of exchanging inanities for several hours… Continue reading Wasp honey
Time consumes; art distils
Time is like a forest fire, consuming everything in its path. Our most intense moments burn bright and hot, leaving nothing but fragile tatters of memory. Where would we be without art, snatching moments before they disintegrate into oblivion? What else but art, crucible for smelting the ore of our lives till we get a… Continue reading Time consumes; art distils
Being a nobody
In the last post we were talking about ideas as wildfire: they burn and destroy, they have awesome power and are therefore dangerous. There is a school of thought very dominant in the world at present that power is intrinsically good. Needless to say this is an idea promoted exclusively by the powerful, just as… Continue reading Being a nobody
Why do ladybirds have spots?
Why do ladybirds have spots? I don’t know, but I’ve just guessed the reason for their shape. It gives them a hemispherical hard-top, like a sports car, to conserve heat during hibernation. Unlike other insects which seek cosy cracks against the weather, they can choose quite exposed places. I found these little bugs clinging to… Continue reading Why do ladybirds have spots?
What Grandma told me…
In 1964 I became friends with my landlord’s son when he came to paint the window-frames. I was suffering from depression and he recommended a psychoanalyst by the name of Theodore Faithfull, a white-haired gentleman in his eighties, the grandfather of Marianne Faithfull, who had just recorded her first hit, "As Tears Go By". (These… Continue reading What Grandma told me…
Baggage
If a sage today were to give one piece of advice, what would it be? What could best guide the lone seeker towards spiritual fulfilment whilst improving communal behaviour in our shared home, Earth? It’s easy to assume that the semi-mythical words of Buddha or Jesus are just as potent today as when first spoken… Continue reading Baggage
Pheasant
Where I live, we have 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… Continue reading Pheasant
What is soul?
I have not been finding it easy to write about soul. I’m not interested in traditions, scriptures or beliefs. If I cannot know what soul is from direct experience, then why should I care about it? I liked what Jim wrote in his comment to Sunday’s blog: Soul is Pure desire for life. Even in… Continue reading What is soul?
a wayfarer’s notes 