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We went on another week-long holiday to the Lake District last week, of a very similar format to the one we took around the same time last y...

Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami. Our un-named narrator is a writer, though seemingly unburdened by the need to find regular work t...

Belatedly, here's the post-Christmas whisky round-up. And a bumper year it was too, featuring some of the old favourites like Jura , Hig...

I'm not sure how I ended up watching this hour-long compilation of Welsh tries - possibly residual enthusiasm after our glorious comple...

It's a cliché, of course, but now that the vast majority of the time my work doesn't require me to dress up like an utter nincompoop...

We've expanded the scope of the lookeylikey posts lately to include things like islands and tubes of effervescent  tablets , so it wa...

The Glittering Prizes by Frederic Raphael. University, eh? Well, we've all been there. Well, not literally all of us, though number...

This is a bit of an echo of a long-ago lookeylikey post about bald people; I want to make it clear that I'm trying to do something a bi...

One of the reasons I don't do as much blogging as I used to, in addition to the various reasons already mentioned elsewhere, is that t...

It seems like an age ago that David Bowie , Glenn Frey and Prince died in fairly quick succession, although it was in fact just under thre...

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. The Reverend John Ames is in his mid-seventies and nearing the end of his life (he has some unspecified he...

The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea by Yukio Mishima. Noboru is a pretty normal thirteen-year-old boy. Well, it's a difficu...

I'm very conscious that we've done a run of pretty much exclusively book -related posts for a while now, and that this one is no dif...