Category Archives: The Stories We Tell

Wild things

(Also available as a podcast here) Five months ago, at the end of April, I wrote here about my reactions to the early stages of Covid and lockdown. From where we are now, that time seems almost like an age … Continue reading

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Making sense

You can now listen to each new post, including this one, as a podcast. I am also gradually adding selected posts from the archive. Click here. If we look for milestones to prompt reflection and personal stocktaking, few come better … Continue reading

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Perfect lives

For the final day of our recent The Stories We Tell course at Cortijo Romero, in Spain, we invited people to write or tell a personal story that had not previously been told. The only rules were that it should … Continue reading

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The shortest distance

Last week I took part in the process of interviewing for a new manager for my mother’s care home. I was one of a panel of two relatives and two residents who met the candidates for an informal chat, before … Continue reading

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September

September is a month of renewal. People are back from their summer holidays. A new academic year is starting. Autumn is in the air. And it’s the month of my birth. In September I always have a strong feeling of … Continue reading

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On purpose

Extraordinary as it seems today, my first job was as an articled clerk with a firm of London chartered accountants. I can distinctly hear my lawyer father and banker stepfather saying, almost as one, ‘My boy, with a law degree … Continue reading

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Other hearts

I was brought up in the Scottish countryside. Home was a house with a field and a wood, an old stables building and a walled garden. It was a late 18th century manse, elegant though not grand. In earlier times, … Continue reading

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Peaks and troughs

Six months ago I decided to take a break from A Few Kind Words. It was a spur of the moment decision, though one that had been brewing for a while. One Thursday afternoon I sat down at the usual … Continue reading

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Imagine better

Last week I went to the launch of this year’s Edinburgh International Book Festival programme. It was the first official book festival event I’d been to since coming off the board last October, after 14 years. I felt oddly anxious … Continue reading

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Spanish tales

I watch my 88-year-old mother’s gradual decline and see her reaching for memories sometimes as if they’re a glimmer on some distant horizon. My mother has Alzheimer’s, although it has been kinder to her than to many. She exists mainly … Continue reading

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