Galia was the striking Russian wife of a colleague of my Father’s at the bank in Paris. I don’t remember exactly when it was that Paul and Galia began to figure in our lives and if I wanted to be exact I could call my Father to ask him but I don’t feel that really […]

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Autumn of 1983 at St Julians and we were finally granted access to The Art Department as members of the senior school. Gone were the days of “put your textbooks away and get your crayons out; this period we will be drawing what we did in the holidays”. Leon Carraco was to teach us art […]

Read more "On Rothko and other things"

I had got to know the Lisbon – Madrid bus service rather too well over the year of 2001 to 2002 that I had spent living in Madrid. That year was a train-wreck for me in all terms imaginable and those nine-hour long over-night bus journeys over those barren flatlands of western Iberia, back and […]

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I seem to remember we ran a couple of times a week. The circuit must have been about five kilometers in all, which wasn’t bad going for a ten year old. Quinta, our red setter, knew the course and for every one of those laps my father and I ran she must have run the […]

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