This journey has taken nearly thirty years – from the time I met James Pyman at art school, to his wedding to fellow artist Penny McCarthy last weekend. Back in 1980, James lived in Eastbourne and we met up there a few times, exploring his vast collection of comics, little imagining that decades later we’d [...]
Archive for the ‘sidetrips’ Category
Time-flood labyrinth: Eastbourne to Venice
Posted in Memory, sidetrips, tagged venice on August 3, 2009 | 8 Comments »
Conan in Bedfordshire
Posted in sidetrips, tagged atlantis, ballard, conan, encore, milton keynes, mk, moorcock, psychogeography, ramada, wetherspoons on July 5, 2009 | 2 Comments »
The last two days of walking have been triangulated against some kind of literature. The next will be no exception, as I am heading for Leighton Buzzard where, back in about 1974, I bought a book that has retained great meaning for me over the years – Conan of Cimmeria. This paperback, which I have [...]
Helix paths: Leicester Holiday Inn
Posted in sidetrips, tagged helix, holiday inn, leicester, oadby on March 13, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
On Monday night I found myself staying in a Holiday Inn in the middle of Leicester, in St Nicholas Circle to be precise. This was part of a work trip, ‘work not walk’ as I explained to Suraj, who suggested I visit the city’s Jain centre. Nevertheless, awake early I decided to walk the [...]
Precise History of a Pebble: Journeys of Discovery at Othona
Posted in Memory, References and signposts, sidetrips, tagged dorset, farmer, othona, path, raymo, taplin, tarzan on March 2, 2009 | 2 Comments »
We spent a long weekend at Othona in West Dorset, participating in a ‘reading retreat’ with the title Journeys of Discovery, led by Mandy Addenbrooke. I’ll let Othona tell its own story, provide a few establishing slots from the first morning to show the kind of place it is, and say it is as [...]
Shadow Trolls of the M5
Posted in sidetrips, tagged m5, othona on March 1, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Going to Othona, on a six-hour motorway drive, I took some more random pictures. Every fifteen minutes (the same frequency with which Simon Templar (‘The Saint’) would light a cigarette in the earlier novels of Leslie Charteris) I snapped a picture from the passenger window.
Result? Lots of wood-fringed banks, seen in a rushed-past blur. [...]