03 April 2014
A poem by Blake Morrison.
21 March 2013
This poem is its own obituary. At home, quietly, after a short illness. Beloved son of, mother to, lover of. Born...
01 May 2008
Do artists see the world the rest of us see? Or are their works purely self-expression, with no tangible connection to...
21 October 2002
Like Edwina, Jeffrey and Ulrika, I have a new book out. "Are you on tour, then?" a non-literary friend asked the other...
"Two living parents, no sexual abuse, no beatings, no spells in rehab - my literary career is totally fucked"
22 April 2002
One of the less publicised tactics of the Israeli army over the past few weeks has been its destruction of Palestinian...
24 April 2000
Perhaps I read Dick Whittington too often as a child, but I've been having trouble taking this mayoral business...
After weeks of self-restraint, I forced myself upon a waitress, demanding she bring me the house white
07 February 2000
I wonder what my parents, both of them GPs, would have made of Dr Harold Shipman. Might they indeed have come across...