Things a cold water swim can teach you about life I felt it in my toes first. The cold slipway underneath my bare feet showed no mercy...

I hesitated. I’d planned to do a walk. All day, rain had clattered at the windows but now the sun had burst through and I had 40 minutes...

Smug. That’s what I was. The water swirled and fizzed around my feet but I was completely dry. While others played ‘chicken’, running for...

Stories from the heart for older generations by Olusola Sophia Anyanwu I have always loved short stories – the way you can dip in and out...

A few reflections as we amble contentedly towards the end of our 10,000 steps a day Walk for Water challenge*: 1) It’s actually pretty...

When my children were small, a trip to the beach always meant coming home with heavy coat pockets: pebbles and shells scraping and...

There’s a woman waiting in the doorway of the Amnesty bookshop. At first I think she’s queuing so, obediently, I stand myself and my son...

‘Avignon, aller-retour’ my friend pronounced clearly as we got on the bus. She took her ticket and moved on. My turn. ‘Le même, s’il vous...

I have wanted to make Frittelle di Carnevale, or at least to eat them again, ever since a brisk bright February morning in Venice nearly...

When people ask me where my love of language came from I say it all began in foreign kitchens. One in particular. In a pretty white...

One of the first linocuts I ever made, dabbling in a college art course way back in my twenties, was this African weaver and her baby. I...

If I had the chance again, I maybe would have said one more thing. Five years ago, I had mere days to write a eulogy, to summarise a...

When I heard that Martha Black’s entire book tour had been 'Covid-cancelled', I was so disappointed for her. When I heard that her book...

Fiesta at Els Àngels (2nd August 2015) It was the satnav - or rather our disdain for it - that took us to Els Àngels. Scoffing at its...

There are few things I love more than buying art and writing materials: vibrant inks, chunky cartridge paper, pencils, shiny new...

The sea was Mediterranean aqua this weekend, blatantly masquerading as somewhere far more exotic than the south coast of England. They...

Mum and the roundabout Standing in the British Library bookshop, a year after my mother died, I had a nostalgia rush so strong I could...

I’m sitting with a memory. A different time, a different season. It was one of those gifts of an empty calendar day that can sometimes...

They’ve put a spin on it. Made it sound like a good thing. You learn so much more from your failure than from your success. It’s what...

Some years ago a friend wrote to me. Previously she had dropped her faith like a heavy coat in summer, finding it uncomfortable,...