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Personal stories
I don't write autobiography as such, but I do occasionally reminisce. Personal experience is bound to have an impact on who I am and what I write.


No. 31 - The Turkey's Revenge
‘I’m sorry about it Christopher - but there we are,’ was my mother’s unconvincing explanation as to why I had to survive on ready meals. She often told me tales of the wonderful things she used to cook and bake when my older brothers were children - crusty bread, sumptuous cakes and delicious savouries - but after my father died I had Heinz, Findus and Bird’s Eye to thank for most of my meals. Findus French Bread Pizza (Evening Standard 1979 courtesy of the British Newspape
bluecity86
1 day ago7 min read


No. 30 - The Perils of Becoming Caesar.
In 1961/62, when I was a few years old, my father was always busy and my mother was often rather poorly. I couldn't be left unsupervised, so I would be sent ‘on my holidays’ to the Parkers, the older couple across the street. Uncle Charles and Auntie Tootie I called them, even though we were in no way related. Lleyn Street was full of unofficial uncles and aunties. Uncle Charles was a rather taciturn Mancunian with a pencil moustache that made him look a bit like Clark Gable.
bluecity86
Nov 167 min read


No. 29 - The Call of Home
On Monday October 15 1984, I realised one of my ambitions by leaving Pwllheli, the town I grew up in, for London and a career in the Civil Service. I worked in Wood Green, King’s Cross, Hornsey, Holloway, at Southwark Bridge and finally Westminster, for three government departments. I consider London a friend. It celebrates with me when I'm happy and comforts me when I'm sad, and it would take something extraordinary for me to ever leave. But, even though I no longer have fa
bluecity86
Oct 267 min read


No. 28 - Of Wisdom, Angels & Imaginary Cheese.
My father was a teacher, a headmaster and a Sunday school teacher, so I assumed he knew pretty much everything. His answers to my...
bluecity86
Oct 57 min read


No. 27 - Step into a Dream (Part Two)
The booklet welcoming new staff. As a porter/linesman for Butlin's Staff Accommodation I'd had to clear up pigswill and donkey debris, but worse was to come. Phantoms and Flatulence The bathroom block cleaners and I were terrorised by a villain who became known to all as ‘The Phantom Crapper’. At first the culprit would poo into a polystyrene chip carton, stick a wooden fork into it at a jaunty angle and leave it on the chalet line like a piece of art - which he may well ha
bluecity86
Sep 187 min read


No. 26 - Step Into a Dream (Part One)
A collection of Butlin's Pwllheli badges, all from before my time. Butlinland One gloomy November day in 1982, I found myself in a most unusual situation. In the East Annex of the Pwllheli Butlin's camp, I was balancing precariously on the roof of a trailer normally hauled around the site by a tractor. A manager in a suit was laboriously pulling it along the deserted chalet lines with me on top of it, clutching an eighteen-foot pole and looking for all the world like the Grea
bluecity86
Sep 176 min read


No. 25 - An Inconvenient Passion
In the summer of 1968, drawn by stickers exchanged in the school playground, I suddenly became interested in football. My father was...
bluecity86
Aug 227 min read


No.22 - Effigy, an Introduction to Death
[I posted a series of childhood and youth reminiscences on Facebook a while back, and although they mostly relate to the 1960's-1980's, I thought I'd re-visit some of them here. This one covers a rather sinister episode.] In Wales the sheep are always there, always munching, and always watching. You could be forgiven for believing that they are all the same - but they are not. There are different breeds of course, but it’s more than that. In North Wales they are timid and wil
bluecity86
Jul 105 min read


No.20 - Afternoon Tea and Seduction
In November 1984, within a month of moving to London, I attended a music and film show at the Barbican Hall, marking seventy years of the...
bluecity86
Jun 176 min read


No. 15 - A Talent for Joy
The twenties and thirties may have been before my time, but I have a wealth of photographs of my parents and their siblings to inspire me. My mother's older sister Annie-May is a growing inspiration, but had I ever told her that, she’d have chuckled dubiously and said something like: “Ahhh, now then…well…you see…” which would have dissolved into further chuckling. Annie-May Hughes at 17 on 27th September 1921 There was a charming tradition at the time of having a photographi
bluecity86
Apr 25 min read


No. 11 - The Case for the Explicit
Some of the many books I bought from Gay's The Word over the years. Growing up in a Saucy Postcard World The occasional sex scenes in my...
bluecity86
Feb 185 min read


No. 4 - To See Ourselves...
My older brother Jos was writing books before I even started, having published several travel guides and articles. The real writer came...
bluecity86
Dec 24, 20244 min read


No. 1 - Fighting the Inner Curmudgeon
On social media, my eye is often drawn to old black and white images of familiar places, prompting a sense of nostalgia, often for a time...
bluecity86
Nov 7, 20243 min read
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