Monthly Archives: July 2012

It starts with a speeded up film of the East End, of some winged creature making its way along the Thames to the stadium, a tombstone carved with ‘Isles of Wonder’, an extract of the Sex Pistols’ ‘God Save the Queen’, a burst of the EastEnders the… Continue reading →

the Grist antidote to Olympic feverChewing the cud with a writer friend last night, we got to talking about why, when writers write about place in England, the effect is always vaguely comic or bathetic. Where in America, the mere mention of Route… Continue reading →

  Stephen May, novelist, playwright, TV writer, and purveyor of quality rugs (see photo), is a Southerner by affliction, but now lives in Mytholmroyd (pronounced… don’t ask me, I don’t live there) which is close to Hebden Bridge, the ‘lesbian … Continue reading →

We are trudging through wet quaggy sludge, the mud oozes and squelches, over ruined fields we trek, laden with all our possessions. Everything we need to survive: tents, blankets, washing bowls, pots, pans, bread, eggs, milk, Wellingtons, sun hats… Continue reading →

JULIE MELLOR, BREATHING THROUGH OUR BONES Continue reading →