This has absolutely nothing to do with economic recovery – and everything to do with hope.
Green Shoots
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Author Archives: KMLockwood
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves
Apologies for the earworm.
Continue reading
The Empire of Custom
The empire of custom is most mighty.
–Publilius Syrus
–Publilius Syrus
An Anglo-Saxon Maundy scene: monks washing feet and a king giving alms, from an C11th Psalter (BL Harley 603, f.66v): c/o Eleanor Parker
Probably just as well for Her Majesty that she doesn’t have to wash the feet of old beggars*. I saw her at York Minster one Maundy Thursday. I was disappointed because Continue reading
One Funky Gumbo
Mardi Gras shop at night.
“In New Orleans…..You can’t separate nothing from nothing. Everything mingles each into the other…until nothing is purely itself but becomes part of one funky gumbo.” – Mac Rebennack A.K.A. Dr. John, Musician
Dr John is most definitely right about the Big Easy. Continue reading
Dressing the Part
Serkan Kemal, PE teacher, as Robin Hood
One of the great joys of World Book Day is seeing children (and sometimes brave adults) dressed up as their favourite characters. This year’s wonderful examples made me think more about clothes and stories.
Critical Mass
‘Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armour and attacked a hot fudge sundae.’ – Kurt Vonnegut
The Naming of Cats
Illustrated by Edward Gorey
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
and the naming of illustrators is equally important, Mr Eliot.
Do judge a book by its cover
I had an old ruler, a freebie from an advertising company. On its clear plastic length, it read
It’s the Eye that Buys
I can’t argue with that – even for books. But there’s more than immediate appeal,we also say that:
In God’s Pocket
I have the great good fortune to have been born in God’s own county : Yorkshire, in case anyone was in doubt. So how come I live on the coast of Sussex you might well wonder?
Fed up!
‘Rat,’ he moaned, ‘how about your supper, you poor, cold, hungry, weary animal? I’ve nothing to give you— nothing— not a crumb!’
Not a whinge-fest, but rather a feast.