I’ve long suspected that my toaster is plotting something. Not out of any deeply held belief in sentient kitchenware, you understand, but because it simply feels too knowing. Its chrome glint catches the morning light with what can only be described as smugness. It pops the toast an inch too soon, as if to say, “Timing is … Continue reading The Secret Lives (and Afterlives) of Objects: A Meditation in Dust and Cup Handles
Month: April 2025
Haunted, Harrassed, and Hard-Done-By: Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black
They say curiosity killed the cat, but if you ask me, it merely got the cat thoroughly spooked and left it clinging to the curtains like a caffeinated spider. Such is the effect Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black has on a reader: you pick it up thinking you’re in for a quaint little ghost … Continue reading Haunted, Harrassed, and Hard-Done-By: Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black
Confessions of a Shandean: Or, How I Came to Love a Book That Can’t Keep Its Trousers On
I must begin, dear reader, with a warning: Tristram Shandy is not a novel - it is a literary striptease performed by a madman with a feather quill and far too much time on his hands. Approaching it as one might approach a standard narrative is like bringing a map to a dream: utterly useless … Continue reading Confessions of a Shandean: Or, How I Came to Love a Book That Can’t Keep Its Trousers On
An Easter Sunday Reflection: The Stone Rolled Away
Easter Sunday always takes me by surprise. After the long shadows of Good Friday, after the silence of the tomb, it arrives not with fanfare, but with a whisper: “He is not here; he has risen.” (Luke 24:6) And suddenly, the world is turned on its head. I’ve carried the weight of grief. The betrayal, … Continue reading An Easter Sunday Reflection: The Stone Rolled Away
Wounded for the Wounded: A Good Friday Reflection
Good Friday has always been a day that makes me stop in my tracks. It draws a sombre curtain over the noise of the world and invites us to look long and hard at sorrow, at sacrifice… and at betrayal. It always strikes me closer to home than I’d like. Because I, too, have felt … Continue reading Wounded for the Wounded: A Good Friday Reflection
Wording 