Work in progress
Previous | Contents | Next I suppose that most of us have, within our characters, behaviour patterns which could certainly be construed as a lot less than virtues. Throughout our lives we are at times maybe covetous, greedy, self-centred, unthinking or just downright bad-tempered and unpleasant – not necessarily huge personality faults in themselves ... Read more
Previous | Contents | Next Scottish history had been one of feudal conflict between the various clans, and in the 16th century the MacGregors were big losers, to the Campbells in particular, resulting in ongoing disputes, the loss of their lands and their gradual retreat into the highlands. When Clan ... Read more
Reminiscences of a happy childhood in the 1920s and ’30s Contents Alternative audio version Introduction: A painting and a poem1. The attic — Dante’s inferno2. The basement — kitchen and cupboards3. In the attic again — the workshop4. Mamma5. Sunday entertainments6. Games and celebrations7. Toys and mishaps8. Reading and chemistry9. ... Read more
Previous | Contents | Next The workshop (as mentioned in the “steaming event” — Chapter 1) was a large attic room sporting a ten-foot long bench equipped with a carpenter’s vice, a small bench fitted with metalworker’s vice and drilling-machine, and a smaller bench with grinding-machine and a gas-ring. A large table served as ... Read more
Previous | Contents | Next Sunday mornings, however, preceded Sunday afternoons, and my younger brother Angus and I (the “wee boys” as we were known to all and sundry) would begin our day racing down the six flights of stairs, (we lads slept in the attics) one hand on the bannister-rail and the ... Read more
Heather asked me to record an audio version of her uncle Douglas Sharpe’s “little book of reminiscences”, Wind of Dreams — as if anybody would want to listen to a Kiwi read a Londoner’s stories about his childhood, over a hundred years ago now! Nevertheless, here it is — and ... Read more
Previous | Contents | Next In retrospect I have often thought it somewhat surprising that, at any rate on some occasions, the Fire Brigade was never alerted by some zealous passer-by on Sunday afternoons to the old Victorian semi-detached in south London which served as our family home when I ... Read more
Previous | Contents | Next To me, one of the wonderments of memory is the sometimes quite random triggering, by seemingly unconnected phenomena, of a particular train of recall dredged up from the long flooded depths of the subconscious. A picture here, a poem or a song there, a word, a book, possibly a ... Read more