I am one of those hideously chirpy morning people. During my childhood, while everybody I knew slept in late on weekends and holidays, I was that kid who was up at sunrise. I don’t know why. I was awake, slept out, and well, let the day begin, even if it’s only dawn and the sun…
When I was in primary school — this was in the early 80s — we had a ‘library’ which had then just been renamed to ‘the media centre’. Why? Because over and above books, we now also had other forms of information-carrying devices. Such as televisions weighing 70 kilos on squeaky-wheel trolleys, which, in turn,…
Those who knew me, know I have a ‘thing’ for beauty. I love beautiful things. And beauty comes in my forms, not just the obvious ones. Beautiful women and beautiful paintings and beautiful sunsets and beautiful cars are just too obvious. Sometimes beauty hits you where you least expect it. Last night it hit in…
I make this point often, but it bears repeating: until the age of 46, I was a drug-virgin. In my youth I used prodigious amounts of beer. And okay, yes, still do. As an art student, getting plastered was what I did on a too-regular basis. My blood group was Smirnoff. But I never did…
It’s not every day I recommend a book. Unless asked for. “Hey, Gerry, do you know a book that will [x]?”. if I do, I’d answer. But unsolicited ‘recommendations’ is not generally something I do. Today is the exception to “generally”. Let’s talk about “hype”. I don’t like hype. Because nine times out of ten,…
This one is admittedly an obscure one. But not too obscure, allegedly the John Wick movies were based on this work. (It even makes a brief appearance in the first John Wick movie, as well as in Atomic Blonde!) One of these books is the masterpiece called ‘Shibumi’. And a masterpiece it is. Doctor Rodney…
I’ve never been one for causes. Even in my student days, when one is supposed to have a cause – Save the Whales, Save the Trees, Release Mandela – I was not interested. And I was an art student! Bloody hell, we were defined as “young people being angry at something, while sometimes drawing pictures”. …
I cannot remember a time I could not read. I was one of those lucky kids who just “understood” these things called letters. My earliest reading memory is of a translated Richard Scarry booklet about an airport. I could not have been more than three or four at the time. When Primary school came along…
