Sophie Jonas-Hill

Here I am, racked with guilt. I did sit down a couple of times to write an entry, but it just wouldn’t come. I had an idea yesterday that I liked, and it may end up as a scene in the WIP, but I had so much going on I couldn’t manage it. Apologies, it’s a fascinating idea and I should have done something. However, you have two very good entries to…[Read more]

Pretty much, these days.

Most of the pubs I’ve loved are long closed now. The Railway Hotel in Newbury where I first tasted Morland bitter at the grand old age of 15 (just). At 12p per pint even I could afford it. Then there was the Cambridge in Cambridge Circus. To be fair, the beer was dreadful – so bad that I drank bottled lager mainly – but…[Read more]

Sounds glorious.

Just had a short break in France where nearly all the draft beer is lager style, with the exception of a few unpleasantly-sweet dark beers. To be fair, some of the lighter ones are drinkable, especially if it’s a hot day – which it usually is.

All this talk of real ale reminds me of that magical moment when you enter a…[Read more]

Oh for a decent pub nearby. There used to be a decent pub only a few hundred yards away from me. It was always The George as it stood by a roundabout on Worthing’s George V Avenue. A couple of years ago it was acquired by the Toby Carvery group. I see that they claim to serve real ale now, but I did try to beers they offered a few times and I…[Read more]

The Woman Whose Nose Pointed North

I had already met my mother-in-law, years earlier, not that I could have known. We had moved onto a still-being-built estate, the house across from ours taken by a large family. So many children were a draw for a five-year-old girl and her brother.

The children, I remember, seemed friendly. Not so the…[Read more]

Well done, Sandra! And thank you for the prompt, Seagreen. As ever, some fine entries.

Thank you, Sea, for the challenge and for the kind words. Congratulations, Sandra, your words clearly came from the heart and made you a worthy winner.

Teabreak tells it straight

I have been known to buff the truth a little, just to get a sparkle when a story is recounted. And if that helps somebody see the finer details a little more clearly, then who am I to deny them the opportunity? However, just as experts say we should resist the call of Mr. Sheen and microfibre when rare treasures are at…[Read more]

The Last Sense

Curse my tears, dissolving my bold exterior to expose the raw feeling beneath. How dare they come at a time when I needed to show courage? To offer a united support when Mum’s strength had finally crumbled?

And see how the foundations of mine gave way, leaving the sturdier ones to put on the brave faces; carry the weak link of…[Read more]

William James seems like an interesting man. He’s an example of something less common these days, a polymath. He studied widely across medicine and philosophy, developing expertise in both fields so that he taught physiology, psychology and philosophy (at different times) at Harvard, whilest finding time for an apprenticeship as a painter, and…[Read more]

Bumper crop springs to mind, but the cliché is wrong because these stories didn’t just spring up, they were all lovingly made by hand.

Janette’s story reminds us of the way that roles are exchanged as age demands. More than this, it reminds us that life is full of last moments each important and deserving of attention and memory. There is a wist…[Read more]

Any more takers? Last chance today. That could be the subject.

Jill, it’s so good to hear from you again, in spite of what you’ve been, and are, going through.

I think any response that isn’t on a level with your own experience of positivity is likely to sound trivial, or at least less significant. But it is a fascinating topic. It’s often said that realists have a less positive expectation of outcome, but…[Read more]

Two fabulous stories and still half of the month to try your hand. What luck!

The First Steps and the Last

‘Come on, Mum, two more steps and you’re there. I’ve got you …’

Why was she raising her voice? I wasn’t deaf.

My mind wasn’t the disabled part of me. And what was the rush?

Hold your tongue, old lass. It’s all said through care, not to mention a familiar tone of worry that she might slip or let go.

It took me…[Read more]

It was, and still is, a very good blog indeed. I remember it well, and on the strength of your recommendation I bought Pavane. It is a unique book, with an extraordinary atmosphere. Since reading it I’ve returned many times to check on parts and to reread. It really is remarkable that it isn’t better known. It’s somewhat depressing that a book so…[Read more]