So I turned 64 last week and all’s well. We celebrated with a trip into London where we had a wander through the Picasso exhibition at Tate Modern. Following that we strolled down the South Bank and over the river heading to Fopp to pick up some new CDs – Johnny Marr double live album, Boygenius EP and Marianne Faithfull live from Montreux Jazz Festival. We finished the evening with pizza and jazz at Pizza Express Soho (the pizza was great, the jazz a little soulless, but we

My bother sent me over some old photos he found of me in my teens. They capture the euphoric moment when I escaped the tortuous confines of the schooling system and started to explore the possibilities of real life, fuelled by the manifestos of punk and new wave. My bedroom walls were adorned with band posters along with classic Hammer Horror images, I was pulling together my first band ( Fae Jane & The Burning Docs ), and I had wheels – my beloved Honda 125. This new found f

Harold Wilson once quipped that a week is a long time in politics, and no truer example has there ever been than the last week of US...

These chapters end and leave us bereft. We tell ourselves and each other that it was a blessing, there was surely only suffering ahead,...