Category: Personal Letters

And Then Fizzles Out With Barely A Pop

The decision on who to write to is not always an easy one: there are tens of thousands of advertisements in the internet which press themselves upon those willing to put pen to paper, or fingers to screens, vying for attention, and some of them are attractive, some enticing, some scary. This, I hasten to…


No Memory Of Cicero, Little Of Seneca, Little Of Caesar

What goes through anyone’s mind when they decide to keep – or hoard – anything? I suppose, if you’re going to think about personal matters, then love letters are the prime targets for a collector, not just because of the intimacy that is within, but also because they bring back memories of a better time,…


The Royal Censors Became More Attuned To The Workings Of The Literary Mind

It is almost impossible, in our modern world, to live without some form of news input, without knowing what is going on in the world, or even in the next State, the next town or village. Once upon a time we would be relieved from our ignorance by word of mouth, even if the news…


Not Everyone Can Sit In The Old Jewish Quarter, The Original Ghetto

I am always intrigued by those who suggest that we, as outsiders, might want to find out who they are, that we, as outsiders, have the ability to delve into the mind and personality, the most intimate corners of a person, and discover the real being behind some form of facade, some wall which has…


Twelve O’clock Has Just Struck, The Last Hour Of 1834

One of the delights of winter, for some people, is not so much the fact that it is cold and there is the chance of snow, but that they have a decent excuse for lighting up their fires at home, and spending the evening in front of a log fire, or crowded around a stove….


Build It, Tend It, Enjoy It, And When The Time Comes, Let It Go

If we didn’t have a past, we would have no memories and nothing to shape our future on; we would be hollow shells with nothing to talk about, with nothing to share with other people; we would have nothing from which we can learn and no salacious and intimate details with which we, when we…


Why Wait Until The End Of The Year To Start Afresh?

I’m not sure whether we have slid calmly into the new year, or been dragged into it, although for me it was a quiet and sedate affair, fireworks across the town at midnight, the cat on my lap tearing up my jeans with its claws, and a glass of red wine near at hand. I…


Looking At Me, Scruffy, Old, Bearded And Worn After A Long Life

The wonderful thing about letter writing is that no one knows you have an accent. This highly unoriginal saying is taken from an equally unoriginal one: in the internet no one knows you’re a dog, and merely tells us that with the internet, as with letter writing, we can be whoever we wish to be,…


And The Holy Man Is Convinced That Zarathustra Is On The Wrong Path

One of the failings of the human beast is not to recognise and accept their own limitations, not just with respect to strength and speed which are easy enough to assess and measure against other people, but in regard to intellectual abilities. Every single person has their upper limit, but very few accept this as…


With A Moan His Life Fled Resentfully To The Shades Below

One of my greatest pleasures in life, apart from writing letters and travelling, is reading. There is rarely a time, day or night, that I do not have a book in my hands and, while I might not be able to read at any point in time, it is always there for those free moments…


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