‘Tis the day after the equinox. The solstice has long since passed and the seasons continue their inexorable march. The harvest is complete, the festivities echoing on the wind. The airs are lighter, cooler. Dawn in lengthening and the evenings are shortening, ushering in the expectant changes. The sun lazily creeps lower to the horizon lengthening the shadows. There is a flurry of activity. Migratory groups are departing, so evident by their formations, like a compass

Placing the warm cup on my desk, I sit back exhaling, deeply. I’ve made another dark elixir of coffee. A daily vise so steeped in a history of extortion, it’s hard to believe such tastes and pleasures can be produced by the innocuous dark liquid. It's a simple fair created from independently roasted beans. The aroma is slowly filling my office, the anticipation of the first sip, is lowering me into a reverie. I sit savouring the moment. I watch wisps of steam slowly ri

What does home mean to you? Are you comfortably reading this at home, or are you away from your creature comforts and family, on the road somewhere? The dry, clinical, definition of home is a place where one dwells permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. It’s a place of residence or refuge, where one experiences a sense of belonging, safety, and attachment. I think it’s much deeper than this. If you were to ask a series of random people their defini

I STOOD tip-toe upon a little hill, The air was cooling, and so very still, That the sweet buds which with a modest pride Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems, Had not yet lost those starry diadems Caught from the early sobbing of the morn. The clouds were pure and white as flocks new shorn, And fresh from the clear brook; sweetly they slept On the blue fields of heaven, and then there crept A little noiseless noise among t

I’ve recently come into possession of a first edition of the book “Highways and Byways in Dorset” by Sir Frederick Treves. Sir Treves was a leading anatomist and surgeon in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Indeed, he is most famous for his care of Joseph Merrick, unfairly dubbed the Elephant Man, after being forced into a tragic existence in travelling freak shows. Ultimately, Treves treated Merrick with palliative care and enabled him to reside in the London Hospit

I sleep fitfully. Each night a fog descends. Not a gentle fog with romantic mystique. A polluted smog that obscures reality, gets caught in one’s throat, and feels like walking under a canopy of oiled brown paper. It’s dense, humid, oppressive. Somewhere in the distance a fox screams, or was it a human? If it were shown on an antiquated map, the text “here be monsters” would be included, prompting the viewer to stay away. I don’t have that luxury. Each night I am forc

January is a lazy month. It’s a relaxed sleep-in. It isn’t a time for ‘resolutions’ or life decisions trying to drive change. It’s a time for reflection. A time spent indoors, warm, with loved ones, while the world catches its breath. It’s for cooking, enjoying good food, good wine, good company. To appreciate the non-material aspects of life. Nothing should be rushed. The earth has slowed. Everything should be savoured. Find comfort in blankets and books. Share i

I was up before the sun again today. Don’t be surprised, I’m frequently awake before dawn after fitful nights of broken sleep. This particular dawn was beautiful. Cold, crisp, clear, still. The sky appeared as a mirror reflecting nothing but the inky blackness of the receding night. Sparse clouds were a subtle ultramarine against the fire on the horizon. Brilliant dark oranges were giving way to smooth pinks and yellows. No one else in the world appeared to be active

I sit, early morning, watching a rainbow move across my desk. Subtle, ethereal, a glimpse of nature in it's purest of forms. The cold light of autumn is being split by some invisible force, some all powerful object. The small spectral slither is like the breath of a fairy; playfully blowing over objects, without disturbing them. The lit shadow is beautiful but so tenuously ephemeral. How long will it last? Will it return? I want to savour this moment for as long as po

I fell into the pit again today. The dark, vile, oppressive pit. Its walls are slick, the bottom is nothing but sticky mud that clings to you like tar. The air is thick and hot; if it wasn't so sour you could almost chew on it. I could see it as I approached. Smell its musty acrid odor, its foul rancour. I circled it a few times. Viewing the all too familiar nemesis, willing myself away from it. I didn't willfully fall into it, I never do. There was no conscious mome

The astute amongst you will have seen that I haven’t posted anything in sometime. Actually, you don’t need to be astute or particularly observant to realize that there has been nothing new for 18 months. Have I given up on this endeavor? Have I lost interest? No, neither. Back in the summer of 2024 I undertook something significant. It was planned, expected and it wasn’t an illness or any sort of medical procedure. One of the rules here is no personal details, so no sp

Giving the bottle a good shake, I pour some oil into the palm of my hand. The oil is warm and the sensation of slowly moving it over my hands begins to calm me. I massage my face, swirling my fingertips over my cheeks, before slowly, rubbing along my jawline and down my neck. I rinse my hands under hot water before returning the cap to the bottle and placing it back, in the cupboard. I fill the bowl with hot water, carefully placing the brush in it, giving the brush a shor

This is my adaptation of Mr. M. P. White’s steak sauce recipe. He is an exceptional British chef and a rare breed of someone who has gained multiple Michelin stars, but continues to produce unpretentious fare. He generally stays away from the limelight, with only a few TV appearances. His autobiography White Heat is on a par with Mr. Bourdain’s autobiography, and is absolutely must. Sauté 200 grams of sliced brown mushrooms. Add a good pinch of salt to ensure you cook