Moss Side Story
It was a terraced house in Marcia Street, on the edge of Moss Side in Manchester, just behind Whitworth Park. And it was the late 1960s. The house and the… Read more »
The Tiny Grass is Dreaming…
Writer and broadcaster Adam Gopnik muses in a New Yorker article about the pitfalls of speaking in a language other than your own: “Once, in a restaurant in Italy with my… Read more »
Frying tonight…
Sometimes i feel like a priest in a fish & chip queue quietly thinking as the vinegar runs through how nice it would be to buy a supper for two. Vinegar by Roger McGough As English… Read more »
Eyeballs in the sky
My mum and dad didn’t talk about politics much – I was introduced to socialism by my maternal grandad – a retired railwayman, and a socialist to his fingertips. He… Read more »
What’s in a name?
I answered quite happily to the name Michael until I was about thirteen when I decided I’d prefer to be known as Mike. If nothing else it was quicker to write and easier to spell. My… Read more »
Serviette or Napkin
It is one of the burning issues of our age, whether a properly brought up person (like what all readers of this blog are certain to be) should refer to… Read more »
Who’s a pity boy then…?
A Budgerigar in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage William Blake was actually talking about a ‘Robin Redbreast’ (you knew that of course) but the principle’s the same. The… Read more »
On the back of an envelope…
When I was about fifteen – living in Somerset – I discovered penfriends. I can’t remember much about any of them and the long distance relationship was generally very short-lived…. Read more »
Salad Days
Sir John Evelyn, best known for his diary, was also a vegetarian and a fan of salads and would hopefully have approved of the salad pictured above. His 1699 book… Read more »
The wine is corked…
It was a ritual seemingly designed to intimidate the inexperienced diner which began with the scanning of an impossibly long wine list, desperately looking for something which wouldn’t involve taking… Read more »