So I realise this the second time this year I’ve homed in on this poem, but I come back to it again and again. Which
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Lockdown, at last, is easing in the UK – after over 100 days. So I’m winding up this little series of poetry readings. But if
The 2020 VE day is the 75th. We can’t witness great spectacles and commemoration events because of the virus. Everything is much more low-key, necessarily.
This will probably seem a very odd inclusion into the Echoes series. After all, journalism is as ephemeral as it gets. Most of it is
This is Holy Saturday. It’s an in-between day, a limbo. It is deeply unsettling, especially if you need your world to be categorisable, identifiable, graspable.
It is Good Friday so the subject matter for the day’s reading presented itself easily enough. Choosing what to read, however, was a very different
It seems strange to continue this series while the coronavirus is uppermost in our minds, but with the growing need for self-isolation, it is perhaps
Tom Stoppard is one of the greatest living playwrights. End of. His output has been remarkable so I’ve always been excited when news of new
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