Fishing in the Rivers of Life

Tag: Nostalgia

  • Snail Sorbet

    I’m never happier than when I’m writing, except when I can’t think of what to write. When I’m in full flow, time disappears, my anxiety melts away, aches and pains evaporate, and I forget about all that ails me. It’s a perfect mental sorbet that seems to cleanse the sensory palate. Sometimes, words pour out…

  • It’s Only a Number

    Add them together, and it’s seven. In binary, it rhymes quite nicely: double one, double one, zero one. And in Roman numerals, it looks quite regal. Imperial, almost. LXI, short for luxury, I say. So why, when it stares at me from the page, does it look so scary? Happy 61st birthday. Come on, it’s…

  • Photography: The Dying Art

    The Misplaced Focus on Art Over the Artist Reading Lewis Liu’s essay on Marcel Duchamp’s impact on the artistic world, arguing that art is simply a social construct, and his theory that AI will do the same was a revelation. A lightbulb moment when I realised he was missing the point. With so much talk…

  • Porky Pig’s Russian Roulette

    The Poetry and the Abomination The Scotch egg, what can I say? Done well, it’s pure poetry, like Blake’s Jerusalem, encased in exceptional sausage meat, rolled in the crispest breadcrumbs, and deep-fried to perfection. Done badly, it’s an abomination, a thrash metal version of “Morning Has Broken” blasted out on cheap, tinny speakers. Once, I…

  • End of the road

    I have a terrible memory, and it’s getting worse. Up until now, that’s been a blessing in disguise. Let’s face it, as a photojournalist who has covered war and natural disasters, who wants total recall? But as I said, it’s getting worse. Until now, life has been like driving a car through the dusk with…

  • The Steak Pie of Labour’s Lost

    A Gravy-Stained Time Machine It must have been a strange sight: a large, portly gentleman in a checked linen Borsalino, sitting on the passenger side of a beaten-up left-hand drive Rav4. Well past his prime, just like the car. Its blue-green paintwork was as faded as his hair and patchy, like his memory. His eyes…

  • Top of the Pops

    Trying to writea love song,something punchy,not too long. Chas ‘n’ Dave —my inspiration.Come on now,what, you hate ’em?There just ain’tno pleasin’ you. Top of the Popswas my aim —sadly,they’re out the game. But, by Jove,I will not cry —time to exploitold Spotify.

  • First, They Came…

    “Son, I Hate My Job” I have an ever-abiding memory of my father, one that haunts me to this day. I remember, early one morning, bumping into him as I made my way to the bathroom. Through my bleary eyes, I could see such weary eyes, and with a look that I can still feel…

  • The Kiss

    When I stole the desperate kiss,You stole my heart.Lips sealed,Sealed my fate.I surrendered,As if a virgin,I gave myself to you,As you gave yourself to me. But that was long ago,In the past.It seems some things,They were not built to last. Indeed, you broke my heart,For a while.Life fell apart.Love moved on,As did life.I survived that…

  • Who Are You…

    I can’t remember being youngOr how I got old.I can’t even rememberThose stories I’ve told. Memory loss,Now is such an affliction.How much of my life isJust pure fiction? How can I lie,If I don’t know what’s true?Honestly, mate,Would I lie to you? Yeah, I drink too much,That bit is true.Again, the line:Would I lie to…

  • Too Old to Pogo

    Too old to pogo Just an old git, Limbs currently feeble, No longer fit, For disjointed grooving, To angry alternative, Dance hits. Deaf as a post, With a badback, My childhood has scarpered, It ain’t coming back. Youth was never wasted On this young gun, Fuck me sideways, By Christ, I had fun. Sex and…

  • The Secret of Eternal Youth Revealed

    The Foolishness of It All According to Abraham Lincoln, you can fool some of the people all of the time. I think he has a point, as right now I’m feeling pretty foolish, and judging by the assembled masses – since at first glance, there are thousands of us – I’m not alone in such…

  • Forever England

    A Moment of Reflection in Aldershot Military Cemetery Standing solemnly in silent contemplation at the Aldershot Military Cemetery, soaking in the summer sunshine, eternity faces me carved in stone — a reality so far removed from the bravado of war or the romance of its poets that it jolts. The Weight of Memory on a…

  • The Pain of Growing Old

    Growing old is a painful process, yet I accept it’s far better than the alternative. As they ripen, some grow right-wing. Personally, nothing could be further from the truth, however, I am experiencing an equally unpleasant change of viewpoint. Becoming acutely aware something about me has changed, and it’s both physical and metaphysical. The Moment…

  • An Analogue Heart in a Digital World

    The Strange Process of Aging Ageing is such a strange process — oddly insidious, it creeps up on you. When I hear on the news that something happened forty years ago, for a second, I think of the Blitz. But of course, that was much further back. Forty years ago was the eighties, not the…