All the things I do instead of writing…
Back in the blink of an eye As ever, autumn is a busy news month. This year, I mainly seem to find stories about AI destroying humanity, as well as the rather more tangible risks posed by Russia. We briefly explained to the kids that nice countries don't invade other countries, so they said, "well... Continue Reading →
My father died on the 17th June, 2017. He probably would have quite liked that, a palindromic date. He died in Berlin, on the commemoration day of a riot against communist rule in 1953. It's the sort of date people like to choose for weddings. He will be buried on the 7th July, which also... Continue Reading →
In common with many arts graduates, I delight in accumulating mostly useless knowledge. Since I'm not the brightest person I know, I tend to assume that this is knowledge also accumulated by everyone else. Interacting with a variety of different people suggests that this is not the case, and so I end up feeling bad... Continue Reading →
Another night in the giant multiplex at Westfield, watching Sherlock Holmes. In the first few frames of the movie, I see that familiar gothic typeface, known in Germany as Frakturschrift, and my heart sinks. The scene is Strasbourg in 1891, and the German inscription says something like "1. Jubiläum Elsaß-Lothringen" - which means "first anniversary... Continue Reading →
The other day, I went to see the best play I've seen in many years at The Royal Court, called Clybourne Park. The reviewers kept saying it was a very funny satire about race and property, and I certainly couldn't help laughing at the accurate portrayal of the ugly sides of human nature, although I... Continue Reading →
I am watching a documentary about a very old lady in a red jumper. “What is it like when you believe you will die in the next second?”, the interviewer asks. She is asked this a lot, she replies; and the answer is that you do not perceive any emotion – just blackness descending on... Continue Reading →
These are short extracts from my diaries as a 13-year-old for 1991. It was the year that we left Australia to live in Germany permanently. Reading them paints a strange picture of a very pressurised and unsettled life, and some unintended hilarious observations. March 4th 1991 Today was our school free day. At 12.00 we... Continue Reading →
The resting writer 