I’m trying an experiment. Some days I’m up in blue skies and other days I’m down in the mud. I decided to find something for each day of one working week to illustrate beauty and optimism in the world. I’m starting from home – looking at things locally, since we’re in lockdown. I don’t know how this will work out but it’s a positive step to relieve the ‘boxed-in’ feeling.

MONDAY Cold and overcast. The domestic chores of the day loom. Washing, hoovering, ironing. Making sure the recycling is outside in a tidy state for collection. The amount of cardboard packaging is alarming, having to depend on deliveries rather than go to the shops. Up at 7am with a hot cup of green tea. Good start.

A book I’ve ordered from Waterstones, ‘Klara and The Sun’ by Kazuo Ishiguro, arrives. The design, its colours and presentation, are terrific – they are by a Japanese designer called Toshiyuki Fukuda. It makes my day. I dip in to the first few pages and am reassured I will like reading it.

TUESDAY Dull and grey. I make an early morning visit to our local supermarket (five minutes walk away) with my wheelie bag. The staff are super friendly and helpful and I buy a big bunch of daffodils. A welcome note that Spring is in the air.

Later on the car won’t start but the flowers give me the energy to ring the RAC. More dispiriting rain later but after supper I watch a fascinating TV programme about Çatalhöyük in Turkey, presented by Janina Ramirez and now designated a World Heritage site. It sends me to bed in an upbeat mood. I’ve learned something new.

WEDNESDAY Overcast and damp first thing but I have to go to the bank. The train is almost empty and it takes only six minutes to get there. On the way to the station I pass a massive mimosa tree in full bloom, which is gorgeous.

Coming home, a wind has blown up and I breathe in stormy gusts of fresh air as I walk across the Common, passing a swathe of purple crocuses and a wild black dog chasing an orange ball. The grass is a vivid green.

THURSDAY Lockdown can become very frustrating. Not seeing people face to face for so long makes me very lethargic at some level. A weird fog in my head. This gets much worse when it’s dull and cold with a heavy goosedown sky – like today. I can hear the muffled silence. I hope I don’t go deaf in later life …

In the morning I throw dried mealworms and sunflower seeds for the birds under the apple tree (brownie points) and they are soon pecking away in a greedy fashion. I chase away the magpies because they bully the little birds. The pigeons are making a nest in our bay tree. Birds are what remain of dinosaurs – (I mean, not counting fossils!).

The sun pushes out of the grey blanket at midday and we go for a walk in the park. I fall over in the mud and look as if I’ve wallowed in it like a pig but my jacket goes in the washing machine later on and is as good as new. I have a few scratches but got very close to nature 🙁

Later on, I was tidying up and found a cache of Nevil Shute books. Now reading ‘Trustee from the Toolroom’. He’s a great storyteller. It’s wonderful to find something like that by chance. Like a necklace down the back of a drawer you thought you’d lost. I’m hooked – it’s a good feeling.

FRIDAY Monsoon type rain swilling down the roof windows, followed by bright sun.

The sun wins out and we go for a local walk and see lots more flowers appearing, comment on peoples’ gardens and come home with some delicious baguettes for lunch with cheese and fruit.

We’re going to have ‘moules marinières’ for supper with garlic, white wine and parsley, and new potatoes. A favourite. And so I come to the end of another week of lockdown. Some good moments have lifted the tedium.

And what could be nicer than being sent a very original bouquet of flowers from ‘Storm and Grace’ for the weekend. It contains Ladies’ slipper orchids, Fox grape fritillaries, Neapolitan miniature alliums and butterfly lavender with catkins and cherry blossom twigs about to bloom …

Obviously, I did much more during the week but I can see that the special, uplifting moments mainly include books and flowers, looking up at the sky and learning something new … not to forget good food. It shows how much we depend on the natural world, not only for survival but for pleasure too.

The curiosity factor is big for me as I have always liked finding things out and learning new stuff. We’re lucky to have the Internet and TV as well as books nowadays. Mmmm … I don’t always love these gadgets tho’ … I miss writing and receiving letters.

I’ll finish off with one of my favourite quotes. It’s quite relevant in today’s world. Pause for thought …

‘A person hears only what they understand’ – by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe – 1749-1832. You could add ‘sees’ as well as ‘hears’.

This is a line in a poem called ‘The Garden’, by Andrew Marvell (1621-1678) and it came to mind as I explored a gravelled alley way between houses on a daily exercise ramble, passing by a garden fence.

There was a short piece by David Attenborough in ‘The Times’ suggesting how humanity’s relationship with nature could be repaired. Besides the beauty and wonder and diversity of Nature, we also depend upon it for our own lives – we need to breathe, eat and renew our bodies every day and as we damage the natural world, we also damage ourselves.

Fortunately, we are now slowly becoming aware of this and there is a small window of time to try and put things right. Nature can regenerate quite quickly if given the space to do so – we need to make this happen. And there are many individuals working on various schemes all over the world to achieve this regeneration.

DA suggests that we can also reconnect with our natural surroundings by stopping our busy schedules and sitting quietly for ten minutes – in the woods, in the mountains, by the sea, in our garden, even contemplating our houseplants… he says that extraordinary things happen, even in that short time – for instance, do you recognise that bird call? How many insects hove into view and do you know what they are?

I found ladybirds overwintering in the cracks of our sash windows … small black bees turning up in the house … a wasp’s nest, resembling a ghostly white football, prettier though, under the eaves. Even for those who don’t have any interest in the natural world, without the sun and water from rain, human beings would not even exist …

Maybe this year we’ll be able to travel again – think of being in a jungle, say in Costa Rica and seeing and hearing things for the first time that you knew nothing about. I’ve used DA’s article a lot for this piece, so I can spread his ideas further.

To return to my ramble and the prosaic subject of a garden fence. The sun was shining and catching the spaces in the fence with its rays.

Colours lift my spirits. The camera sometimes catches more than the eye can see and makes the ordinary extraordinary. I’m bedazzled and aware of how much I don’t know about our planet and how much I want to learn about it. All because of a walk … and given time to contemplate.

In the same way as people are keeping ways open for hedgehogs, we should keep our brains open to the natural world.

Heavy rain, storms, floods, howling winds, followed by snow and ice, brilliant sunshine, extremes of temperature … small tornadoes have also been reported in different parts of the country. Climate change can’t be ignored any more.

Below are a few recent local photos of the Thames and Barnes Pond, showing the changeable moods in the weather. I’m aware that these influence my own moods too!

I’m a member of ‘The Cloud Appreciation Society’, set up some years ago by Gavin Pretor-Pinney. I’m letting you know just in case you think there are too many cloud panoramas here …

During lockdown we may only walk for exercise close to home. As well as walks along the river towpath, enjoying a fresh sea scented breeze in our faces, we are also getting to know a few of our neighbours’ front gardens more intimately, as we ply our course along quiet, residential streets.

Some front gardens still have shrubs and flowers but many of the larger ones have been paved over to house massive SUVs. This could save the price of parking permits but doesn’t save the environment. Maybe if you do this, you should also have ‘bee friendly’ pots of flowers and shrubs surrounding your charabanc.

Concrete is bad because producing it creates an enormous amount of carbon dioxide. Also, rainwater should be able to sink into the earth. Paradoxically, the more front gardens are paved over, the greater the risk of flooding.

Barnes Pond (‘rus in urbe’), makes for a green and pleasant, (socially distanced), rendezvous for grown ups, who sit and chat/read/phone on the surrounding wooden benches, which, in turn, are dedicated to various Barnes residents no longer with us.

Children whizz up and down on scooters and babies in their prams with mothers and nannies are drawn to the water’s edge – ten Egyptian goslings being the latest excitement.

If you go in the rain you are lucky enough to get it all to yourself …

And then there was a fanfare of sunshine and blue skies …

These are the days when being out and about beckons – but I also like walking, even trudging, in the rain – as long as I know the sun will return, and that home isn’t too far away. We are lucky to have seasons in the year.

Looking through a bookshelf the other day I came upon a book entitled ‘Since Records Began’ – the highs and lows of Britain’s weather, by Paul Simons. It was the first book to bring together all the extreme weather events in the U.K. since records began – something to dip into while in your warm and comfortable bed, when last week in Scotland -20C was noted, close on the heels of this week, which is reaching 14C or more in the south of the country. What other extremes are in store for us this year, I wonder?

I dreamed of a handsome, ginger cat and the next day I saw him in the street, unconcerned, strolling along, a curious ‘flâneur’, busy with his day. He reminded me of Orlando, the Marmalade Cat – books I enjoyed reading as a child.

The series, starring Orlando, was both written and illustrated by Kathleen Hale, in a similar vein as we have Quentin Blake today. Orlando became very popular and was taken up by Puffin Books, the children’s part of Penguin.

Kathleen Hale was born in 1898 and died in 2000, aged 101. At one point in her life, she worked for Augustus John and knew many of the Bloomsbury set, enjoying a bohemian lifestyle. After the First World War, when she first came to London from the north of England, she delivered milk in Chelsea with a horse and cart.

House bound, keeping Covid at bay, I looked up Abe Books, a second hand book Internet site. And I found Orlando books. I chose a copy in ‘very good’ condition, where Orlando takes a trip abroad – some wishful thinking here on my part – and two days later he turned up in all his colourful glory.

I was thrilled. I also like Kathleen Hale’s sense of humour, which shows both in her writing and illustrations.

Orlando is at the seaside in England with his family. Being an inquisitive cat, he steps aboard a boat, which turns out to be a ferry, going to France. He makes friends with a sailor called ‘Albair’ (spelling!), who sets him up with a deckchair. He didn’t mean to go to sea!

His performance pays for a return ticket to England and quite soon he’s home again and ready for another adventure.

Maybe lockdown makes me a bit nostalgic for the past. Why did I dream so vividly about a handsome ginger cat, which reminded me of the Orlando books I loved as a child?

Why did I happen to see a ginger cat in the street the next day? Why did one of our daughters unbeknownst, send me a photo of a cat she saw in her garden … who is also rather handsome … and regularly visits Heinrich, the goldfish, in his pond.

Lockdown produces its own mysteries … and unlocked some welcome memories.

Was it worth putting up decorations during lockdown for just the two of us? I didn’t buy a tree and was grateful for that because it seems such a sad waste of trees even though the glorious smell of pine forests infuses the air in your home for a short while. When I was a child, we had a cat who would make a beeline for the Christmas tree and sit in ecstasy in its lower branches every day, sniffing the pine needles and purring like a Rolls Royce.

This is my Scandinavian alternative, which took one minute to install and then a friend sent me a perfect bouquet – so we were all set for being home alone .

Christmas Day dawned with a bright blue sky – virtual greetings all round before making for the great outdoors and catching the sunbeams across the Common.

It helps to concentrate on small pleasures at the moment … and to slow down and appreciate what Nature has to offer only a few steps from home!

A fox at the bottom of the garden last night, screeching like a banshee, emerald green, red beaked parakeets swooping and shrieking overhead, pretty goldfinches feasting on the niger seeds, and two bold little birds – a wren and a robin – that make sure they get my offering of mealworms under the apple tree.

The wren escaped me and ducked under the hedge – small and swift, it darts like an arrow … pfft …

Two elegant Barnes residents …

And now we’re home again it’s time for a special treat …

And a Christmas teatime …

I had almost decided to send Christmas/Season’s Greetings online this year as the stamps almost cost more than the card now … and yet … and yet … I’m glad I didn’t succumb to the Internet because it was so lovely to have so many cards arriving with satisfying thumps through the letter box, some of whom came from people we hadn’t been in touch with during this Covid year. It made me really value both my old and new friends and that they were thinking of us as we were thinking of them.

I have to mention that Robert Braithwaite Martineau’s (1826 – 1869) Christmas pudding is perfect – luscious and painterly on its glass dish.

Our TV series of the year, which we both thought was brilliant (this is a rare occurrence) was ‘The Queen’s Gambit’ on Netflix. We also found a programme with other singers and bands playing Elvis numbers and I became obsessed with ‘You Were Always On My Mind’ sung by Neil Tennant of ‘The Pet Shop Boys’, wearing a suit and tie. He just hit the spot for me.

Some of our musical tastes are the same and some not at all – at the outer end of the spectrum John is for Jimi Hendrix and I am for André Rieu (especially for Christmas). That leaves a wealth of bands and singers in between! I’m relieved I won’t ever be asked onto Desert Island Discs because it would be impossible for me to choose only eight!

There were lots of repeats on TV – extraordinary that Morecombe & Wise still make it for Christmas every year – but I love them. ‘Bring Me Sunshine’ – just sing it and hope!

Hello 2021 …

The thing I miss most at the moment is having a conversation in the company of friends who make me laugh with abandon. There are different types of humour – and it’s the one thing that makes an immediate bond with someone when you recognise that you have a similar type. It’s not easy to explain that feeling which hits the spot and maybe best not to even try and analyse it – another situation could be a ‘coup de foudre’ when you fall in love across a crowded room (or anywhere for that matter) with a stranger. That doesn’t happen quite so often though – it’s never happened to me. But at the heart of it, it’s inexplicable and wonderful. You don’t need or want to know the reason why – it just is.

I’ve been reading a lot during ‘lockdown’ and since my mind often goes blank when somebody asks me what I’ve been reading, I’ve acquired a small notebook. I write a couple of sentences under the title and author of each book to remind me of the story. The notebook must be ‘handbaggable’ because it’s no use sitting down to lunch with a friend at a favourite restaurant if said notebook is lurking on its own at home. Unless, of course, you do have a super memory … I did used to have one for names … I still have a good memory for faces.

There are a lot of amusing and entertaining books but few where I’ve been unable to stop myself laughing out loud. If you can spontaneously laugh out loud, surely that’s a good thing for your state of mind. Here are some suggestions to try out … or encourage you to find your own … these, for me, are special.

Although these books were published some time ago, I only just read the William Boyd – mentioned also in my journal entry on Wallingford. It hit the spot so many times! I have read Matt Haig’s ‘The Humans’ twice and laughed out loud again. Bill Bryson is always a real treat. A favourite since I came upon ‘Notes from a Small Island’, I have greedily fallen upon each new offering. I came upon ‘Bird Brain’ through a friend – it’s utterly hilarious. I think Guy (the author), must be Banger …!

All of these books fit in with my personal take on ‘life in general’ and I very much like all the authors too. At the moment there are lots of articles in the papers on the best books of 2020 – it’s also worth looking at many others.

I’m now adding a few more books I’ve been reading recently to balance out the laughter quotient. These are books which stay around in my conscience.

‘Little Deaths’ by Emma Flint (2017) is set in New York in 1965 and based on a real and shocking event. It’s absolutely riveting and is one of the best contemporary novels I’ve read, set in the atmosphere of an Edward Hopper painting – ‘The `Nighthawks’.

The writing doesn’t miss a beat, the characters are so well drawn I would be able to recognise them if I met them in the street. This story would make a wonderful ‘noir’ film … gripping and sinister, harrowing and tragic. It haunts me still. I’d be the casting director – in my dreams!

I’ve already written a piece on ‘The Mirror & the Light’ by Hilary Mantel. I can’t praise it enough. The trilogy, starting with ‘Wolf Hall’, following on with ‘Bring Up the Bodies’ and finishing with the ‘The Mirror & the Light’ is an unbelievable achievement. It’s in a category of its own. I just feel lucky to have had the chance to be alive at the same time as this trilogy was written. This is literature that will last down the ages.

To learn more about Hilary Mantel, read her autobiographical memoir, ‘Giving up the Ghost’. She is truly a phenomenon! ‘A story of childhood that is also a piece of history’ (Rachel Cusk). ‘Brilliant, sardonic and extraordinarily moving’ (Helen Dunmore, ‘The Times’).

Someone recommended me to a series of books, which introduce a great detective in the making – including a touch of hoped for romance, which is always just that tantalising step too far away … read them in sequence.

The four books are set mainly in Calcutta (now Kolkata) in the 1920s, the detective being one, Sam Wyndham, with his ever present Sergeant (Surrender-not) Banerjee, who keeps him on the straight and narrow. The deeper they get themselves into the murderous tangles of opium dens and the seedier side of the city, the more dangerous and shocking the discoveries they make. ‘Mukherjee weaves crime and history together with great skill’ (The Times). I hope he is busy writing the next one …

Another detective story, which was a great find, is ‘Only To Sleep’ by Lawrence Osborne. He takes the Philip Marlowe character (by Raymond Chandler) and puts him in retirement on the borders and badlands of Mexico and California. ‘Osborne and Chandler are a perfect match’, says William Boyd in ‘The Guardian’. This is an excellent ‘noir’ thriller – ‘sumptuous and sinister, languorous and tense’ (The ‘Sunday Times’). I also found the writing hugely atmospheric. Unputdownable … Lawrence Osborne understands how louche characters tick … he may be one himself …

Eric Ambler was a brilliant thriller writer. ‘The best ever’, said Graham Greene. It’s worth knowing that some of his books have been reprinted recently. I read them all.

Earlier this year I re-read ‘The Day of the Jackal’ by Frederick Forsyth while on holiday. Chillingly brilliant! It was made into a gripping film, starring Edward Fox as the ruthless assassin. Great for a long train/plane journey. A powerful story – how Forsyth builds up the tension is spectacular. I felt I could hardly breathe towards the final climax. The film is also excellent.

A short novella called ‘The Shepherd’ is a thriller of a different nature – and just the thing to read in one go by the fire on your own with a glass of wine/whisky to hand. The tension is almost unbearable – the ending brought tears to my eyes. A wonderfully atmospheric piece of writing which I will never forget. Perfect.

‘Our Man in New York’ is a non-fiction thriller. I knew nothing about this story and found it enthralling. It’s about the two ‘Bills’ (Stephenson and Donovan), who helped to change the course of WW2 by encouraging America to enter into the war and who are the stars in this MI6 undercover story – I was hooked from the first page. We owe a lot to people we didn’t even know existed.

‘Fascinating … Hemming has done a superb job’ – Ben Macintyre in ‘The Times’.

Recently, there was an article in ‘The Sunday Times’ about the writer, Sarah Dunant, telling about the house in London which she had lived in for thirty years and was about to – somewhat reluctantly – sell.

Next day, I was in Waterstones and having completed a course in the history of art some years ago, starting at the Renaissance, I was attracted by two books of hers – historical fiction about the Borgias. ‘Blood and Beauty’ (2013) and ‘In the Name of the Family’ (2017). They opened my eyes to a different view of the Borgia family (who originally came from Spain). ‘Blood and Beauty’ starts when Rodrigo Borgia, cardinal of Valencia, becomes Pope Alexander VI. It takes on the story of his family, especially of his daughter, Lucrezia. This was a savage time, governed, in what was to become Italy, by small principalities, all wanting to be more powerful than their neighbour.

Dunant paints a very different picture of Lucrezia Borgia than the one most of us think of. You live and breathe alongside her and become very involved with her hopes and fears.

The Renaissance was a flowering of talented artists and sculptors creating the most beautiful art in this part of the world. But it was also a violent society, full of danger and terror – you had to have your wits about you to survive and often, that wasn’t enough.

Both these books are hugely exciting and enjoyable.

I found a book in the house called ‘The Wave’ by Susan Casey. It’s about surfing giant (100 foot) waves. Having picked it up just out of curiosity, I was unable to put it down. The ‘San Francisco Chronicle’ writes … ‘Immensely powerful, beautiful, addictive and, yes, incredibly thrilling … Like a surfer, who is happily hooked, the reader simply won’t be able to get enough of it’. And that’s it, in a nutshell. I read this book cover to cover and wanted more.

I will never surf big waves myself but ‘The Wave’ conveys what it’s like to be out there – awe inspiring and sometimes (always?) terrifying. There’s a great adrenal rush, and it’s a fabulous read, especially when many of us are stuck inside most of the time.

A book which unexpectedly made the bestseller list for many weeks and which I had picked up out of curiosity of its title is ‘Prisoners of Geography’ – ten maps that tell you everything you want to know about global politics. I thought I needed to know more about this subject, although party politics leave me cold – but we all rely on good governance. Sadly missing at the moment.

I love maps and I love travel and here I get to know the most fascinating things about so many countries. This is how Dan Lewis from Stanfords, WorldTravelGuide.net puts it …’Marshall’s latest book explains how politics is nothing without geography, in his crisp and compelling style … What he really excels at is capturing the psychology of nations and giving maps a power that politicians must tame.’ It’s a really original way of looking at the world, which I find compelling. For example, how rivers, mountain ranges, swamps and the climate have changed the fortunes of war.

As I’m talking about different countries and their relations to one another, ‘Great Cities Through Travellers’ Eyes’, edited by Peter Furtado caught my attention. This is an anthology – good bedtime reading – including well known writers from past and present telling about their visits to thirty eight cities from Alexandria to Hong Kong, Berlin to Tokyo, Paris to San Francisco, London to New York … etc. Good to dip into in tandem with ‘Prisoners of Geography’.

My favourite travel writers include Bill Bryson, Patrick Leigh Fermor, Michael Palin +TV series, Paul Theroux, Colin Thubron, Levison Wood + TV series, Andrew Martin and Andrew Eames.

Patrick Leigh Fermor is probably well known to most people who read books on travel. He was born in 1915 and in 1933, aged eighteen, he set off to walk across Europe, beginning his life as an intrepid adventurer. He’s a colourful, passionate figure, full of energy and the joys of living and all his books are still popular, lining bookshop shelves. I recommend ‘A Time of Gifts’ and ‘Between the Woods and Water’ to start off.

He ended up living in the Mani region of Greece and his book ‘Mani – Travels in the Southern Peloponnese’ describes how his journeys led him to build a house here. Patrick Leigh Fermor has become something of an icon to travellers everywhere. He died in 2011, aged 96. His home is now open to visitors at certain times of the year.

Michael Palin is so well known and has kept diaries of his many travels – these have all been filmed from ‘Around the World in 80 Days’, ‘Pole to Pole’. ‘Full Circle’, ‘Sahara’, ‘Himalaya’ and ‘Around the World in 80 Days: 20 Years On’.

Although I’m talking about books here, the boxed set for TV called ‘Travels with Palin’ might get you to feel you have been away after all! He’s full of enthusiasm and empathy, even when stretched to the limit half way up Everest and he makes you feel that you too could manage this – when I’m thinking that I definitely couldn’t.

He’s probably the best international diplomat we’ve ever had, without being a diplomat. He inspires love of our fellow human beings and his travels are told with his illimitable style of ‘why am I here?’ humour. He’s such an enjoyable person to show us the world – this is a series of travel nobody should miss. Again, I feel lucky to have been around at the same time as Michael Palin. He’s a generous spirit.

Colin Thubron is an acknowledged master of travel writing. I have read only two of his books. He wrote ‘Behind the Wall – a journey through China’ in 1987 which would be interesting to read again now. There are a great many journeys to choose from and he has won many honours and prizes for his work. He was made President of the Royal Society of Literature in 2010. ‘Thubron writes very well indeed … He carries with him the talisman of erudition combined with intuition’ (The Sunday Times).

‘He is the most admirable of guides, deeply versed in the rich history and archaeology of the island (Cyprus), delighting in the legends’. (The Sunday Telegraph).

Andrew Martin wrote ‘Night Trains’ about sleepers. I include him partly because I had my own adventures on these sleeper trains through Europe in the 1960s. He also wrote about trains speeding through Europe in ‘Belles and Whistles’, which I have yet to read. ‘His wonderfully well informed, anecdotal prose punches more than just tickets’ (The Times). His book, ‘Underground, Overground’ gets this comment from The Sunday Times – ‘A jaunty history … studded with little observational gems … he can stop you in your tracks with a well-turned phrase’. Just my cup of tea!

With plane travel being so doubtful at the moment, trains may have a revival. Look up the site for ‘The Man in Seat 61’ – he knows everything about train travel and keeps you up to date. I was once allotted a seat on the Eurostar and was ‘ravie’ to find it was number 61! Small pleasures keep us going …

Following in the footsteps of Agatha Christie, Andrew Eames’s ‘The 8.55 to Baghdad’ is packed full of information as he leaves London, en route for the Middle East.

He follows the route to the Middle East taken by Agatha Christie on her own after her painful divorce. She herself wrote a diary containing her adventures, travelling to archaeological sites in Iraq, Syria and Mesopotamia, which she describes with a wonderful dry wit. The title is ‘Come, Tell Me How You Live’. It gives you a completely different take on her. Not just a successful crime writer!

This is also when, happily, she met her second husband, archaeologist, Max Mallowan. Eames keeps Agatha in his sights but also stops off at various venues on his way – e.g Zagreb – once the pinnacle of ‘high society’. He has a self deprecating sense of humour and is highly entertaining.

I especially enjoyed his description of a visit to the celebrated baths/hamman in Damascus, reminding me of my own ‘steamed up’ experience in Aleppo in 2002. His descriptive powers are exceptional. I almost feel I’ve been to Baghdad. (I did get as far as Palmyra in 2002). I’m now looking forward to reading his book ‘Blue River, Black Sea’ – about his adventures along the Danube.

Paul Theroux wrote ‘The Great Railway Bazaar’ about his journey from London to Asia by train in 1975. He’s a wonderful writer, his opinions very much his own, with a wry and honest take on people and events. There’s no prettifying of life in general but at the same time he sympathises with the human condition – and sometimes the description is pretty raw! One of my favourite characters is Duffil, surrounded by his mysterious paper bags on the train.

You feel you are alongside Theroux and I like his ironic sense of humour in how he approaches the world – the dialogue is very amusing. He prefers to travel alone he says – I understand that and I can also imagine he might be a quite difficult person to travel with … In 2008 he tried to repeat this exact journey, entitled ‘Ghost Train to the Eastern Star’. His descriptions are no less vivid than before. Excellent reads – especially when we can’t go on our own or with another until ‘lockdowns’ are a thing of the past.

‘He has done our travelling for us brilliantly’ (William Golding). ‘Relaxed, curious, confident, surprisingly tender, Theroux’s writing has an immediate, vivid quality that gives it a collective strength’ (The Sunday Times).

Levison Wood’s ‘Walking The Himalayas’ was voted Adventure Travel Book of the Year at the Edward Stanford Travel Writing Awards 2016 and he has gone on to explore many other places like the Silk Road, the Nile, the Americas and Arabia. The TV series which accompanies the books is illuminating, in some cases being filmed by Levison himself – both the good and the bad. Wood is a former paratrooper, who was out in Afghanistan. He also has a history degree.

Levison fits in naturally with local people and their culture, exploring the history of wherever he is and giving you the reality of the dangers and risks in how he travels – there is a natural seam of spirituality about our planet and its peoples that runs through his journeys because of the way he writes. He’s honest and brave, a risk taker capable of making lasting friendships on his travels as well as being astute enough to avoid being murdered in certain situations. He makes us understand the rest of the world better and has gone to places I would never be able to go, so widening my horizons too. Books to immerse yourself in with the added interest of the TV series.

The next book is an enormous treat for anyone who takes it up. Written by Tom Michell, it’s a unique real life story about a young English teacher in South America and his meeting with a penguin.

It’s a sublime read, which will always have a special place in my heart. Be enchanted – laugh and cry – and fall in love with the penguin. This is a story to lift your spirits, especially at this ‘lockdown’ time.

‘Sweet Bean Paste’ is by Durian Sukegawa and translated from Japanese by Alison Watts. It’s like a miniature painting about unusual friendships that arise from learning how to cook high quality ‘dorayaki’. Like understanding symbols in a painting, it opens up new treasures. The whole is deceptively simple, poetic prose, softening the harsh reality of life with a world full of cherry blossom. Delightful and thoughtful with a perfect front cover (this is what first caught my eye) by Pietari Posti.

If you find you like this book you may also like another Japanese quirky story by Toshikazu Kawaguchi (translated by Geoffrey Trousselot), called ‘Before the coffee gets cold’. Told through a visit to a certain old back street café in Tokyo, which has been serving good coffee for over a hundred years, it explores what you would change if you could go back in time and also who would you want to meet again for one last time… it’s a tempting offer by the café owner (with risks attached).

I just finished another contemplative book by a Pulitzer Prize-winning author, Hisham Matar. ‘A Month in Siena’ evokes a place that has captured his heart since he fell for Sienese painting as a young man. Finally, twenty five years later, he gets to stay in Siena and pursue his dream. Deeply thoughtful and beautifully executed.

At the moment there’s a lot of talk about ‘rewilding’ our countryside, maybe partly brought to the fore through ‘lockdown’, which has meant more people have turned to the countryside for long walks, whilst working from home. Also, there are a lot of beautifully filmed TV series about nature and the environment which, often unwittingly, we are systematically destroying – watch the David Attenborough programmes, ‘Springwatch’ and ‘Autumnwatch’ brought to us by Chris Packham and ‘Countryfile’, which we watch every Sunday evening on BBC. It’s not all doom and gloom – we can still make the world a better place – but we actually need to do it right now.

A recent programme which I recommend to destress in this modern busy world, noisy and breaking the speed limit with with technology, is ‘The Last Igloo’. It follows one of the last hunters in East Greenland with his dog sledge and shows how he must build his own night shelter – an igloo – on his hunting expeditions. Spoken by him alone in Inuit with subtitles, it certainly gives pause for thought. We follow him through pristine, silent snowfields, leading me to think how fragile life is – and how beautiful. We, need to stop and think and to some extent, change our ways if we want to preserve our planet. Not a book, but it strikes a powerful chord.

‘Wilding’ by Isabella Tree is an inspiring read of the return to nature of a British farm. ‘A hugely important addition to the literature of what can be done to restore soil and soul’ (The Guardian). ‘This joyful, poignant memoir tells the story of exhausted land becoming a rich ecosystem again, and in doing so, forces us to rethink farming.’ (The Times- ‘Books of the Year’).

The first chapter tells of Ted Green, who gives a fascinating eye opener on the survival of oak trees. I learned an enormous amount about how the natural world works as an ecosystem, what goes on underground that we are not aware of and how we are, unknowingly and gradually destroying it. Look up the Knepp estate in West Sussex from where Isabella Tree and her husband handed their 3,500 acres of exhausted farmland back to nature. It’s exciting, important and full of hope. Wildlife is thriving there once again.

On the environmental theme I much recommend ‘Green Swans’ by John Elkington, which challenges industry to an enormous system change, now very urgent. It’s a positive book aimed at business but it also concerns all of us who benefit by using energy of one kind or another. We all need to understand the immense changes about to come into our lives and move with the times, whether we like it or not. Again, it’s not all gloom and doom …

‘Green Swans’ is inspiring and positive – we need to hold on to those words at the moment but more than that, we must act now if everyone is to benefit.

‘John Elkington’s prescription for a new way of doing business – one that nurtures the “Green Swans” of the future – could not come at a more crucial time. As we race towards a doomsday scenario where we do irreversible damage to our planet, we have to urgently set the reset button’. (Paul Polman, former CEO of Unilever and now co-founder and chairman of ‘IMAGINE’, who writes a foreword to ‘Green Swans’.

Linked to the book is the story of Sacha Dench, who flies with swans (watch her astonishing video) and the sculptor, Nicola Godden. Find out more on John’s website – john@volans.com.

An audio version of ‘Green Swans’ will come out in 2021.

As this strange Christmas season approaches, I’m finishing with a traditional English offering from Laurie Lee – ‘Village Christmas’. We need comforting.

And given that food has a special part to play in this festive season, two new books have just been published. I haven’t yet read them but they both look delicious …

I hope that even if you only read one of the books I’ve suggested and enjoy it, I’ll have made a small contribution to someone’s Christmas holiday. Season’s greetings to all.

Holidays cancelled or changed to the UK only. Some people got away over the summer but testing for Covid-19 brought hassle to airports and a hasty return from places like France to catch the last trains home through the Channel Tunnel before restrictions were put in place. Some of us stayed put – but reluctantly.

We wore masks to go into shops – hand sanitiser awaited us at the door. Some people couldn’t contain themselves when it was still warm and sunny and a photo of sunbathing crowds on Bournemouth beach showed that ‘social distancing’ was being completely ignored.

We preferred the calm and relative solitude of Richmond Park and Kew Gardens on our doorstep.

The warm weather continued as we enjoyed having lunch outside in our own garden. We had planted nettles after watching Chris Packham on television, urging people to leave wild corners to encourage natural habitats – particularly for insects, which aren’t always visible. I remember as a child seeing swarms of midges dancing in the sunlight and was aware that they didn’t seem to be around so much now. Few butterflies this summer, mainly white, a tiny blue, a brimstone, a comma, two peacocks and a lone red admiral – there are industrious bees but less of them – I must plant more bee loving flowers next year.

We watched David Attenborough’s film, ‘Extinction’, telling us that so many species in the wild had declined disastrously since the 1950s. We’re on a downward path … and yet there are good stories too. A great way of keeping up with both the bad and the good is to watch ‘Countryfile’ on Sunday evenings (BBC). It’s a window on what the rest of the country is doing, especially if you live in a city. There are a lot of inspiring projects and people out there …re-wilding is the word of the moment … both in cities and the countryside. ‘Wilding’ by Isabella Tree who talks about the Knepp estate in Surrey where she lives is an inspirational read. What she and her husband continue to do is impressive.

I bought these dried grasses in the hopes that their upsurging habit would cheer me through the next few months. I had a bunch of alstroemeria in the kitchen and when it began dropping its petals I saved the few blossoms left.

These grapes have pips and are small, yet have a great flavour. They cover one wall of our house. We juiced them and the juice freezes well. I’m using it to cook with Bramley apples instead of sugar for an excellent ‘home made’ dessert. Just add cream… and throw in a few sultanas for good measure.

It was time to stretch our legs and enjoy exploring further afield. Close by we have the river, the Common, our ‘village’ pond and its inhabitants – and even a welcoming Côte restaurant.

This clock is shaped like the trays that bring food to the tables in Bordeaux restaurants. I’m missing crossing the Channel, eating French food, immersing myself in the ambience of a country I know well. But at the moment France is out of bounds. However, our local restaurant by the pond serves French food and has the atmosphere of a ‘brasserie’. And it’s still open! * But, as it turns out, not for long, with a second lockdown on the way …

OUT AND ABOUT

The weather is unstable – either fiercely wet and windy with a low grumbling of thunder, followed by flashes of sunlight, and sometimes an unexpected and welcome perfectly clear blue sky day … I have purchased a wonderfully ‘fits in your pocket’ raspberry coloured umbrella from Peter Jones. It weighs hardly anything and can also be used as a sunshade – one of my favourite, successful ‘buys’. It also comes in blue and blows in and out without disaster when assailed by sudden gusts of wind.

The river Thames is five minutes walk away and we cross over Barnes Bridge to the Chiswick side. The tide is going out. It smells of the sea – where it came from.

There’s a small reservoir called ‘The Leg O’ Mutton’ by the Thames in Barnes, which makes for a great forty minute stroll around it – good to fit into a ‘lockdown’ day.

Many herons can be seen perched on wooden rafts in the water. Their nests, in a huge plane tree, are very rough and ready – but enjoy great views over the river and the reservoir. I counted fifteen +.

One end of the reservoir often dries out in summer and has massive reed beds.

The roads in Barnes are quiet and empty of people, except for the High Street and Church Road, where the shops offer almost everything you would need in lockdown. My formidable Scottish aunt said you could survive very happily on porridge, herrings and potatoes – and possibly a secret ‘wee dram’ – mine being red wine … and not so secret …

Strolling over the Common with conkers and chestnuts underfoot …

Although we wear masks in all the shops and on public transport – otherwise, I don’t for the most part – spiky coronavirus lurks even though you can’t see it – I am reading a book about microbes …’I Contain Multitudes – the microbes within us and a grander view of life’ by Ed Yong. It’s fascinating and very readable. Best to know about them as you can’t get away from them. They inhabit everywhere – even inside you! We wouldn’t survive without them but sometimes some of them kill us. Such is life on this planet …

On the way home I buy a pumpkin for Hallowe’en. A small one will do as this year we may not get many visitors – I buy some ‘mad meerkat’ gums for ‘trick or treat’ – just in case and end up eating most of them myself …

I used to buy a swede or a turnip to make the Hallowe’en creepy mask but it’s much easier to carve the pumpkin.

It happened to be a full moon on Hallowe’en and I somehow managed to get this photo, which surprised me – the night sky must have been very clear!

And so we carry on into November and the Trump nightmare we hope against hope to avoid …

We have a chance of three days away as lockdown is lifted – for the moment. Where to go, especially as coronavirus was still ‘out there’ ? It had to be less than two hours drive from home and by a river, where we could walk and take a picnic. If it rained a lot, we needed to stay somewhere with a large enough room, where we could read in comfort.

I spent a couple of hours searching on the internet, getting sidetracked and eventually swooping down on Fyfield Manor in Benson, next to the airfield, outside the town of Wallingford.

This house is the oldest in south Oxfordshire and was once owned by Simon de Montfort in the 1200s. It has been extended over the years but we had breakfast in the oldest part, at a long, polished elm wood table. I’m curious to think of the people who have passed through here – Simon de Montfort probably wouldn’t have been eating avocados, which we had on toast with eggs.

The apple trees were heavy with fruit. A stream with secret inlets ran through the gardens.

The fading light still held the warmth of a summer evening as we made our way on foot through a small ‘nature reserve’ to our first supper ‘out’ since March – at ‘The Shepherd’s Hut’ in Ewelme. A white egret soared above us.

We explored these watercress beds that run through the village before succumbing to the delights of fish and chips with a long Peroni beer. The warm ambiance of this country pub with cheerful waitresses was such a special treat.

Night fell suddenly as we navigated our way back to the manor. Darkness is quite different in the countryside – it can suddenly surround you, hem you in – making you feel you’re not quite sure of the way home. The trees become witchlike in the wild wood, strange noises of nocturnal creatures break into the cloaked silence. Another treat awaited us in the form of a large and comfortable bed.

Our room was barricaded off with sanitiser but we had both a sofa and wing armchair, with a tray of teas and coffee. Wifi worked well and I had brought with me ‘A Good Man in Africa’ by William Boyd – one of his I hadn’t read. His father was a doctor and he was brought up in Accra for much of his childhood.

The house is owned by a family and next morning the tinkle of the piano somewhere downstairs by the children and their play in the distance reminded me of the film we had recently watched again after a long time. ‘A Room with a View’, based on the book by E.M. Forster. Very enjoyable.

We woke to sunshine. Thinking we should make the most of it, as the weather forecast was for rain, we were soon parked up by the river at Wallingford, a ten minute drive away.

Children were swimming by the bridge, which still includes the vestiges of the original one.

Walking along the river bank, an electric boat came into view. It’s in the middle of the photo with a canopy and can take six to eight people. The cost is about £50 an hour.

There are fields along this part of the Thames path.

On our way to explore the town John saved a bewildered peacock butterfly that had flown into the church. We met a man who said he often found dead ones among the pews.

It was time to find a picnic lunch. We ended up with bread, cheese, mango and water melon. Simply delicious, sitting in an idyllic spot by the river watching boats of all shapes and sizes coming and going. Thinking of Mole and Ratty by the riverbank, and ‘Three Men in a Boat’. Rivers in summertime have a very calming influence. I could sit here all day.

Wallingford is a Saxon fortified town and its earthwork ramparts were built in the late 9th century as part of a defence against Danish attack. By the 11th century it was the most important town in Berkshire and a castle was built by William the Conqueror which became the most important in southern England. Wallingford is one of only four towns mentioned in ‘Magna Carta’ in 1215.

In the 17th century, Wallingford castle was a major Royalist stronghold before surrendering after a twelve week siege in 1646. Cromwell, fearing that it might be used against him in the future, had it demolished and now only the impressive earthworks remain. We spent the afternoon exploring them. From there you can walk down to the river. Today they are known as the Castle Gardens and are a wonderful place to sit, walk and play. We saw some small boys climbing a steep hillock and sliding down the other side with whoops of joy.

It is worthwhile to spend time strolling around the town with its picturesque houses, shopfronts, churches and pubs. The Castle Gardens and the river walks are all close by one another. This is a great way to learn more about our history …

The earthworks are big enough for cows to graze here …

We returned to the river bank to see a narrow boat mooring, which was full of bicycles and young people streaming off the boat into town. This must be a travel company that specialises in ‘boat and bike tours’.

It was now definitely time for tea and biscuits, followed by curling up on the sofa with my book (which is fabulous!), with no other responsibilities that I could think of. Bliss. Slept well.

The weather hadn’t broken although the skies looked as if the predicted storm might be getting closer.

However, next day John wanted to go a little bit upriver to Shillingford, where his parents spent their honeymoon.

We walked past quite a lot of moorings, some very modern, sleek crafts and others, old fashioned, neglected and full of cobwebs, looking as if nobody had visited them for a long time. I now sometimes feel a bit ‘out of the swim’ too. I don’t mind too much because there’s still a lot of enjoyment to be had here and there. There are advantages to being older – and I’m grateful to have even got here, having just read Bill Bryson’s book on ‘The Body’ – but I don’t count it among my favourite things!

Some girls were swimming and loving it – a tempting thought. The river looks very clean and inviting. I should take the plunge …

There’s an enterprise called ‘ The Earth Trust’, which is taking in small parts of the low lying meadows and creating backwaters from the river for wildlife to thrive in.

We passed through groves of Himalayan Balsam, which is pretty in pink but also a massive pest. Not as bad as Japanese Knotweed – but pretty bad, as it spreads like wildfire and suffocates native plants.

Woke up in the night to sheet lightning, followed by rain.

Next morning dawned with a grey drizzle but the sun was struggling to come out. We decided to go to Dorchester as that’s where the river Thame runs into the Thames. There was a chance to visit the Abbey too.

The village was silent and empty. Many shops were closed, including Lily’s Tea Room. We just happened to park outside it and I was disappointed that tea, cakes and gifts were not on offer. The Abbey Museum was closed too. The graveyard was beautiful. Silent except for the welcome buzz of bees. A very English country churchyard.

We wanted to see where the river Thame runs into the Thames. It’s a walk across fields, past an ancient site called Dyke Hills, which is a rare example of a pre-Roman town. Sheep were grazing peacefully as we passed on the way to the confluence of the rivers. The Thames Path joins up here at Thame Stream Bridge. The Thames, having more muscle than the Thame, pushes its flow backwards but the water inexorably floods into the bigger river.

It’s so quiet here – only one or two boats passed by. The Sinodun Hills rise up on the opposite side of the Thames. It looks a steep climb to Wittenham Clumps on the top. Maybe on a summer’s day with the wind in our hair… another time.

As we made our way back through the fields to the bridge at Dorchester we met a man with a backpack doing a serious hike. I’d like to walk a part of the Thames Path but I’m impressed by the people who take on the whole of it. I must find a book about it instead!

We were homeward bound, stopping off at a herb farm, where I bought a pot of lemon verbena. The map noted a mysterious place called ‘The Maharajah’s Well’ – worth a visit. A strange story. It’s near Nettlebed.

Nettlebed also has an excellent dairy, which was featured in a recent programme on BBC – ‘Countryfile’. If we’d known about it then, we would have dropped by and picked up some of their delicious butter and hay rolled cheese.

Onwards to Henley, where we went out to lunch with a friend. She has a beautiful arbutus (strawberry tree) in her garden. I commented on it and such is her generous nature, one appeared for us on our return home.

This was a welcome three days away. I now want to take one of those electric boats on the river. A return trip to Wallingford is on the cards.

PS Three photos by John as the battery in my camera failed!

I talk about these two men in my biography on this site. However, I recently came upon their obituaries when I was looking through old photos and wanted to celebrate the time I spent with each of them. I loved them both.

I had the good fortune to be personal assistant to John St John at Heinemann in the early 1970s. He had his own list within Heinemann and often allowed me to meet the authors. Some of the stories are in my biography. I felt that finally I had found my niche – Heinemann was in Curzon Street in Mayfair and I was able to walk there from our flat in Ebury Street, Victoria.

I ran past Buckingham Palace, through Green Park and via Shepherd’s Market to work. At lunchtime, I’d rush to Berwick Street market in Soho to buy food for supper – Johnny often went to The Reform Club to meet people for lunch. Publishing was very badly paid but full of interesting people coming and going. I was lucky to have spent time with J St J and I learned a lot along the way.

Our list incorporated Peter Drucker on Economics, an Auguste Escoffier reprint of ‘A Guide to Modern Cookery’, a book on ‘Biofeedback’ (for which I was a guinea pig) and ‘The Thousand Petalled Lotus’ by an Indian monk, which got me into trouble! More on this in my biography …

John St John died suddenly of a heart attack, having recently retired. He had just finished writing a history of Heinemann. By then I had left publishing to have our first daughter. It came as a terrible shock. I still miss him.

As I do Oliver Caldecott, who had been at Penguin. He and a colleague, Dieter Pevsner (son of Nikolaus Pevsner), along with David Harrison, set up a small publishing house in Floral Street, Covent Garden, called Wildwood House. I arrived in 1975 as P.A. to Olly on a salary of £2,300 pounds a year.

We published ‘Alternative London’ written by Nicholas Saunders, who also set up Neal’s Yard in Covent Garden with a wholefood shop. This proved very successful and he then added a dairy, a café and an ‘apothecary’, offering alternative natural remedies. Neal’s Yard continues to survive today – they also have a fabulous cheese shop and the walk-in massage rooms are much recommended by me. Look up more about Nicholas Saunders and Neal’s Yard on Wikipedia.

Other books I remember are ‘The Tao of Physics’ by Fritjof Capra, ‘Radical Technology‘ by Godfrey Boyle, ‘The Drovers’ Roads of Wales’ by Fay Godwin and Shirley Toulson, books by Studs Terkel writing about ordinary working people in America, ‘The Unexpurgated Code’ by J. P. Donleavy and ‘The Tao of Love & Sex’ by Jolan Chang.

Jolan Chang lived in Sweden. He came in one day with some special ‘seeds’ which he offered to us (three women) as he said they were aphrodisiacs. We weren’t too keen on his attentions, so finally he flounced out saying that Swedish girls were better lovers. We did publish the book though.

Whereas John St John enjoyed the Reform Club as his go-to lunch venue – and publishers enjoyed daily lunches in those days – Oliver’s choice was Poons at 41 King Street, Covent Garden – known for such clientele as Mick Jagger and Barbara Streisand.

One uplifting thing about ‘lockdown’ is that I have had time to look back and remember those good times. I hope there will be a few more!

END

These ‘coronavirus’ months at home began with feeling anxious. It settled down into a routine, restful at times, restless at others. Gradually, lockdown started to become tedious and I became desperate to achieve something other than domestic chores – all necessary but many of them repetitive, made worse by not much of a change of scene or social encounters. I don’t like long chats on the phone, Zoom was an alternative but ultimately unsatisfactory, so reading and writing, both of them top of my list in ‘normal’ life, enjoyed more and more of my time.

I read ‘Wolf Hall’ some years ago aboard a Turkish gulet, sailing along the Lycian coast. It took me a while to get into it but something suddenly ‘clicked’ and I was on my way. The second book, ‘Bring Up The Bodies’, didn’t need any support from the first. I was already captivated and rushed straight in.

Instead of adding my own comments here, I ask you to read what the critics said about both those books, which are listed at the front of both ‘Wolf Hall’ and ‘Bring up the Bodies’. Many of them are very insightful and I would be surprised if anyone who reads them doesn’t immediately immerse themselves in the books.

The last part of the trilogy, ‘The Mirror & the Light’, finally arrived and given my own sojourn in the ‘tower’ during lockdown, it seemed to me to be the very best time to attempt the 900 pages confronting me.

Hilary Mantel lists the cast of characters and their connections to one another at the beginning of each book, along with family trees of the Tudors and their rivals. You need to make yourself familiar with all of this before starting to read if you don’t have a good knowledge of English history.

I’ve now finished the trilogy and I feel like a door has closed. The endpapers wrapping around ‘The Mirror & the Light’ show the sinister Traitor’s Gate at the Tower of London. I have survived the blood and guts of the Tudor Court and I realise we have a living genius in our midst. This is literature that will last. I am mesmerised, entranced – it is as if Hilary Mantel has gone back to Tudor times and, as an emissary, reported back to us in 2020. As Rachel Cooke in ‘The Observer’ noted about ‘Wolf Hall’ – ‘I loved ‘Wolf Hall’, but I was spooked by it too. The voice is so true: I have my suspicions that Hilary Mantel actually is Thomas Cromwell’.

Of ‘Bring Up The Bodies’, Jeremy Clarke of ‘The Spectator’ said ‘I am looking forward to being hideously spellbound once more’.

This is, (I hardly like to call it fiction), based on excellently researched historical fact. It’s like old footage of black and white films suddenly being transformed into colour and life. And then you realise that these people were just like us in their emotions, which often overcame common sense and led to ultimate disaster.

The religious and political bonds with the rest of Western Europe were both intimate and paramount in dictating how Henry VIII behaved both in war and in wives. ‘Catholics and Protestants alike hamstring politics, breed hatred, burn, torture, eviscerate, all in the name of God’ (Peter Green TLS).

Women were bartering tools, often used to gain wealth in land or possessions and not only with the king. If they could not produce a son and heir, they were usually got rid of – sometimes brutally. The Court was a lavish but dangerous place to inhabit – ‘ladies’ did not escape being beheaded too. Cromwell rose to be Henry’s Chief Advisor but he knew he walked a fine line, and would one day probably miss his footing.

When he is investigated for treason you look back in the book and see how threads are woven together to make trumped up charges stick – they are like fine silver and gold chains left to their own devices, hidden in a dark drawer, which tie themselves into knots and cannot be undone. As he became more and more powerful, the Lord Privy Seal failed to keep a sharp eye on his adversaries, some of whom he counted as ‘friends’. But would Cromwell have wanted to take over from Henry as Regent had the right circumstances arisen? I think so.

Cromwell was tough, acquisitive as befitting his position, promoting his family, all the while being aware of his aristocratic enemies who envied him and desired his downfall but he was also thoughtful, with a real eye for the beauty of the natural world and its seasons.

I walk down a street that I now know Thomas Cromwell would have walked down in the mid 1500s in London – and it’s a weird feeling. I’m on the look out for a flash of that orange coat, long gone but orange is still a favourite colour.

Colour, taste and smell infiltrate these characters, these places, the food, the small details of daily life in Tudor times. Hilary Mantel has created both a mega and micro world, which is totally immersive to the reader.

I can’t do better than recommend (again) reading the critics listed quotes at the beginning of the first two books. There is no point in me adding to these brilliant comments. Instead, I’m just going to put down a few descriptions which I found magical in ‘The Mirror & the Light’ and which will, I hope, encourage you to take up the 900 pages!

‘The king wears green velvet: he is a verdant lawn, starred with diamonds.’ He is young, fit and handsome.

Later on, when Henry has become obese and diseased … ‘The king’s beard bristles. He looks like a hog’s pudding about to burst its skin.’

‘In his (Cromwell’s) chamber the air is sharply scented: juniper, cinnamon. He takes off his orange coat’.

In the kitchens …

‘At his feet, eels are swimming in a pail, twisting and gliding; interlacing in their futile efforts, as they wait to be killed and sauced …..

The eels come in, presented in two fashions: salted in an almond sauce, and baked with the juice of an orange. There is a spinach tart, green as the summer evening, flavoured with nutmeg and a splash of rosewater. The silver gleams; the napkins are folded into the shapes of Tudor roses …’

This could also be an image of the Court – the rewards of the flesh, the riches to be gained, the honours to be had but all for a price – some may wriggle out of being beheaded but many will bear the fate of a cruel death before their time … or many years of imprisonment.

‘It is an aromatic custard in a white dish. He saw the gooseberries earlier, tiny bubbles of green glass, sour as a friar on a fast day. For this dish you need fresh hens’ eggs and a pitcher of cream; you need to be a prince of the church to afford the sugar……. The custard quakes in waves of sweetness and spice. ‘Nutmeg,’he says. ‘Mace. Cumin.’ ‘And rosewater.’

And with a final flourish, he freckles the cream with slivers of almonds and a drop or two of elderflower cordial.

Followed by sweet Venetian cakes, often made with ‘syrup of violets’.

Read page 164/5 just for the prose poetry of it.

There are small phrases – ‘a glance rinsed with rage’, ‘eyes like deep ponds on a still day’, ‘striated clouds like bales of silk’, ‘what maggots of ambition might be burrowing into the mind of the Duke of Norfolk’. An exquisite description of plums on page 681, fruits the size of a ‘baby’s heart’.

Cromwell reflecting on his youth, ‘scenting the staleness of soiled straw and stagnant water, the hot grease of the smithy, horse sweat, leather, grass, yeast, tallow, honey, wet dog, spilled beer, the lanes and wharves of his childhood’.

Hans Holbein is the Court painter. ‘In answer to his (Cromwell’s) summons, Master Holbein comes. He trails with him traces of his occupation: the scents of linseed and lavender oil, pine-resin and rabbit-skin glue’.

The Tudor Court is held up as a ‘dark mirror’ to our own world. We haven’t learned enough from mistakes made in the past. Or maybe Mantel’s ‘astonishing insight into human psychology (much of it extremely nasty)’ ( ‘The Spectator’) means we are not able to evolve as we should into a higher understanding of our place on the planet.

Just as the Traitor’s Gate endpapers enfold the book, so does the river Thames contain the city of London in its winding flow, the water reflecting times past and present, storm and calm, rain and sunlight, night and day.

…’so I won’t see August, he (Cromwell) thinks. The hares that flee the harvester, the cold morning dews after St Bartholomew’s Day. Or the leaf fall, the dark blue nights’ …

When Hilary Mantel had finished the final paragraphs of ‘The Mirror & the Light’ she went to bed and after a very disturbed night awoke to find that her print portrait of Henry VIII had fallen off her wall.

END