a collection of short literary or philosophical extracts
Not all ideas fit neatly into the pages of a book. When I see, hear or read something that moves me—a news story, a snippet of conversation, a musical phrase, a storyline or cityscape—I capture the thoughts it provokes by jotting them down. From art and sports—whether Wimbledon or the World Cup—to politics, love and war, all topics have the potential to spark my imagination.
The merciless heat, dust and incessant squeeze of the horde at the Royal Palace of Madrid had drained us. Entering Calle de Bailén, we were parched. At this time in the afternoon, the broad,...
It was the beginning of the end. Today was the last day of our family holiday in Spain and, indeed, of our future travels together. A week before our holiday, Alex had graduated from the University...
At high school, Eric was my best friend. He was Scottish, a rarity in our Berkshire village. We prided ourselves on how open and liberal we were, detesting and calling out any form of prejudice that...
My father was so popular, he was nicknamed before he was born. Along with perforated eardrums (teachers regularly slapped his ears for being a mischief-maker), Dad left school with two things he...
Last Thursday, Victoria Mboko, an 18-year-old Canadian (her family emigrated from Congo), won the Canadian Open Tennis Championship in front of her home crowd in Montréal. At the start of the year,...
It was all Laura’s fault. “Hon, if we’re going to Tanzania, can we visit a game park? The kids would love it.” “I’m going home after thirty years. I thought we could spend a week in Dar-es-Salaam,...
I met Hazel on my first trip to Cyprus. Thin as a twig, white-haired, she strode along the promenade in front of my hotel in Pyla, a seaside village on Dhekelia Road. Her beige McGill University cap...
What was I thinking? I had got myself lumbered, training as an accountant at £600 a year ($1,200), with two weeks’ unpaid study leave to pass my exams. I was 18 years old, a high school failure,...
Being bachelors, Joe—my boss—would regularly take me out for late-night supper. Calgary, being a sleepy town, only had one place serving food at that hour: Chinatown. The only restaurant open until...
A rarity in the interviewing world once asked me, “You seem unsure of what you are. One minute you say you’re a writer, another minute an author. Which are you?” The question haunted me, as I was...
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Emil Rem, an eccentric accountant becomes a writer of eccentric characters, in exotic locales—each chapter taking us on a trip into his fascinating twisted world. Born to a close knit, middle class Muslim East Indian family in Dar-es-Salam, Africa in the 50’s, he is then moved to Maidenhead England at the age of five. The next twenty years are spent shuttling between England and East Africa, wearing a St. Christopher’s cross one minute and attending church, to wearing a green armband and attending Muslim religious classes in Africa the next. Moving to Canada, marrying a woman from the Philippines and having two boys only adds further texture to his stories.
