Conserving Paradise.
Every morning at ten minutes past ten, it starts – slow at first, - a long note with an upward inflection, half way between a whistle and a hoot. Then it builds, getting faster and faster to finish with a rapid series of whoops, reminiscent of ..... what; a police siren, water going out of a bottle, the passage of flatus into the bath or even the ignition of a diesel engine? There are elements of all of these, but none do it justice. The call of the male gibbon... Read more »
It’s a Dog’s Life!
‘A dog is a man’s best friend’, so they say. They are our companions. They are, like us, social carnivores that hunt in the daylight. We were made to collaborate. How much more effective we would have been as hunters with dogs to detect and chase our prey. And dogs... Read more »
Cries and Whispers
I first experienced Cries and Whispers in 1973. I was, even then, drawn to the deeper, darker aspects of human psychology. It was no wonder, therefore, that I was into Bergman. I rated the Seventh Seal and Persona as the greatest films I had seen. Then came Cries and Whispers. And now,... Read more »
When the dream fades, kill it off!
Frank and April Wheeler had it all. They were a charmed couple, or so it seemed to their neighbours and friends. He was virile and handsome, a whizz in the city, she was beautiful and an actress. They owned a pretty clapperboard house in the leafy suburbs. They had two... Read more »
Haunted! ‘Trauma’ and McGrath’s ghosts.
Charlie is a psychiatrist, an expert on trauma. His marriage to Agnes broke up after her brother, Danny, committed suicide. Danny was a Vietnamese veteran whose buddy was killed by a booby trap device right next to him. He was also Charlie’s patient. He blew his brains out after Charlie... Read more »
Rewriting the story
Our spirit or soul is like a book upon which we write the story of our life; a narrative that explains our attitudes and beliefs, accounts for our actions and may mitigate our misdemeanours. It’s our personal identity, how we see ourselves. It doesn’t have to be based on what... Read more »
Of families, fathers and forgiveness in the whimsical world of Wes
What kind of person are you? Since when have you been so perfect? When did you last fuck up? What are you going to do about it? Royale Tennenbaum has been evicted from his family by his wife, Etheline, for playing around. He is casual, careless even as he explains it... Read more »
Of daughters, damage and destruction; is that the legacy of Mrs Klein?
Melanie Klein might be said to have founded the British School of Psychoanalysis, though it was never as formal as that. There was a never a ‘concrete school’ more a movement dominated by the ideas and interpretations of Mrs Klein. Psychoanalysis was (and still is) very incestuous. There were not many... Read more »
Dr Haggard’s Disease
It was 1937; and there was trouble on the horizon. They recognized each other at a funeral. There was a spark. Then they found they were sitting next to each other at the Cushing’s dinner party. He was Dr Edward Haggard, house surgeon at St Basil’s and a bit of... Read more »
In praise of uncertainty.
The Archbishop of York, John Hapgood, once famously declared that ‘the lust for certainty was a sin.’ This statement was surprising, shocking even, coming from the second most important churchman in the country; a man who engaged with the ‘certainty’ of God. We live in an uncertain world. We can never... Read more »
How to keep your shape when all about are losing theirs; is there an answer to the obesity epidemic?
For the last twenty years, we have been getting noticeably fatter. Rates of obesity in America and Western Europe have more than doubled since the nineteen eighties. And the problem shows no sign of diminishing. If trends continue, it has been estimated by 2050, one in two adults and one... Read more »
Madly in love
When her husband, Max, is appointed director of an asylum in Essex, Stella is not overjoyed. She is bored; ‘dying of chronic neglect’. She resents the restrictions of her position and the limited perspectives of the other wives. To relieve the monotony, she develops an attraction to Edgar, a handsome... Read more »
Spider
He is the last off the train. He looks lost, wary, an alien from another world. He stops, picks up an object from the edge of a puddle, examines it and puts it in his pocket. Everything about him is strange. He doesn’t so much walk but shuffle, keeping close... Read more »
Back to Basics
The cottage peers anxiously over the terrace wall to where the road leaves the rushing Esk and winds up the hill to the rocky platform upon which the Romans built their marching fort and complained about the rain. Then the focus is taken up again, up the repeating green slope... Read more »
Capturing the Look of Love; Waterhouse’s Women.
The long neck is bent, the skin pale, the gaze serious and sustained, sad yet determined, the lips are slightly parted, the body lithe, nubile, not a child but not yet a woman. Waterhouse's depictions of women express an ambiguity, an inscrutability, a mysterious, thoughtful reflection that enthrals and captivates.... Read more »
Towards the vanishing point.
I had some pizza that I made the previous night and thought to share that and the remains of a bottle of claret with her. But she is not right. Julie has told me that she gets very emotional at the prospect of me coming round. I have recently begun... Read more »
Failing Better.
'Ever tried? Ever failed? No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.' Samuel Beckett Don't give up! Learn from your mistakes. Do better next time. Remember Robert Bruce and the spider, Alfred and the cakes. Just pick yourself up, dust yourself down and start all over again. That seems be the message... Read more »
Not so much a Dame as a Sheila!
I was the first candidate after lunch. I waited nervously outside sister's office. The lady arrived late and loud, flanked by two co-examiners, who were chuckling politely. She glanced at her clipboard and announced briskly; 'Now, Dr Read, examine this man's chest.' I carefully went through the procedure, inspection, palpation, percussion, auscult......... 'Hurry... Read more »
Nature cure; a case of living in the moment.
When I read Richard Mabey's book, Nature Cure, I could feel the how removing himself to a cottage in Norfolk for several months cured him of the ennuie and depression that had afflicted him after completing the mammoth enterprise of Flora Brittanica. The book was like a course of treatment,... Read more »
A cabin in the forest.
I have always yearned for a space to write, my own space, a place where I could close the door away from the obligations and responsibilities and just think and be. . It was just a few yards from the river, on it's own small peninsula, where the dark stream from... Read more »
If you go down to the woods today …….
Dark eyed, tired, seemingly bored with life, they lumber salivating out of the forest dark, enticed by the sound of the tractor and the scent of one hundred kilograms of salmon hidden under logs in four caches. Ursus arctos may have a muzzle like a dog, but it also bears some... Read more »
It’s summer; so follow the geese, go north!
Exhausted with the pressure of work, the bustle and clutter of city life? Then don't head for the crowded beaches of the Mediterranean, follow the geese; go north to Finland. Arola farm is in the region of Eastern Finland known as Suomussalmi, just south of the Arctic Circle and within sight... Read more »
Show! Don’t tell! An appraisal of The Reader.
Show! Don't tell! Let the reader decide why the characters behave as they do. Keep them guessing. It's what can turn a good book into a great one. But, to be honest, I didn't think The Reader was a great book when I first read it about three months ago. ... Read more »
Death, desire and despair at the Odioun; the pholly of Phedre
She has desired Hippolytus since the day she married his father. Proud, aloof, disdainful of women; he has all the strength of the father but none of his sire's weakness for sexual temptation, or so it seems. He is a real challenge. She has to possess him, but Hippolytus is... Read more »
It’s not all straightforward in Arcadia
Arcadia is perhaps Tom Stoppard's best play. Its eclectic blend of literary history and science bubbles and fizzes with ideas and wit. Stoppard not only explores the shifting mindscapes between between science and literature, he tackles the divisions between classicism and romanticism, and deterministic and unpredictable theories of the universe.... Read more »
Doing things by the book; the flawed excellence of the new NHS.
I should have listened to her dentist. She cared enough to call me in London and tell me that the Xray had shown a small translucency around the root of the bottom right canine and there was a sinus pointing to the gum. 'Your mum will need that tooth out,'... Read more »
Losing her Mind; How can we understand Dementia
'Oh Nick, Oh Nick! Please! Please!' 'What is it mum?' 'I don't know. It's all gone wrong.' 'Try to rest, mum.' 'But I'm so hot!' I take the blanket off her. 'My feet are so cold.' I put her slippers on. 'Oh these are too heavy. Take them off.' I remove them. 'My mouth is so dry.' 'Shall I make you... Read more »
The Curious Intimacy of the Shag
'The common Cormorant or Shag Lays its eggs in a paper bag.' So wrote Edward Lear, but he was wrong on both counts. The common Cormorant is not the same bird as the Shag. It is much bigger and has a white patch below its beak and under its belly. The Shag is... Read more »
Duet for one; the destructive narcissism of the performer
Stephanie was a virtuoso violinist until she was struck down with multiple sclerosis. Now her fingering is clumsy, her bowing uneven, her music sounds scratchy and discordant. She can’t do it anymore. She is destroyed. Music was her whole life. It was her joy... Read more »
Spoilt!
When I was growing up, the worst thing you could be was ‘spoilt’. My parents would point at other children and say, wrinkling their upper lips with disgust. ‘And he’s another spoilt brat.’ Being spoilt was a dreadful sin and not one of your own causing but... Read more »
In the eye of our mind
Human existence is nothing is not meaningful. The brain works in metaphor and meaning. We surround ourselves with symbols that represent aspects of our identity. We use mental imagery to make sense of our experience through the creation of internal objects, psychological representations that flesh out... Read more »
Lost to emotion; does the way we feel control the way we think?
‘My thoughts change like the weather. When the sun is shining, I feel excited, optimistic. I can see a way through. We will work things out and it will be fine. Then a cloud passes across the face of the sun, a shadow of doubt and... Read more »
From Mount Wehni to Kentish Town
‘They say you will all die!’ Mulu’s cries add a chill to the low afternoon sun. The villagers had been on the hillside opposite the ambo, the basaltic stele that we were attempting to scale, all day, laughing and shouting cries of encouragement. But now it was late, night was imminent and... Read more »
