The First Window. Mørketiden, Polar Night, the Dark Times. Somewhere in the far, far North, a high angel, great feathered wings creaking, folding sky-light like wedding linen, initials silk-green & rose looped. On they journey, far, far over the tabored mountain of Rumbbučohkka,

The First Window. It was a freezing morning, frost on the thatch, on the apple trees in the orchard, on the long, sloping fields across the lane. Old Fox had been up for hours, lighting fires & oil lamps & making a special breakfast for the beginning of December. Buttered rye

The Third Window. Advent Sunday. Very early that morning, battling through the sleet, Old Fox had taken a beautiful wreath of holly & ivy & laurel leaves to the Sheep Church, a Chapel of Ease up on the Downs, a lonely, wild place close to the sea. It was very dark in the church &

Brain cell looking for connection #neuroscience

The Fifth Window. St. Nicholas' Eve & all was quiet. Outside, the snow was still falling & the stormy, busy world with all its doings seemed very far away from their little corner of Dorsetshire. Old Fox had spent the day cleaning & scrubbing & polishing & tidying & generally

During 2021’s spring lockdown, Benjamin Zephaniah contributed this short reading for our online event. It was a gift then. And now. People will always need people 🦋

So sad that we have lost the most beautiful Benjamin Zephaniah it feels as if the lights are going out all over the world some days but we were so lucky to have him for a while and he leaves a wonderful legacy behind him of both his poetry and his inclusive opinions

This is incredible - Fairytale of New York as you’ve never seen it before…. and what looks like a fabulous send off for the man who co-wrote it and whose voice we hear singing it every December.

If you are interested in the way politicians try and influence the decisions that NICE takes about what drugs to approve, and what general practice does, and how evidence is regarded. please do read this. (I cannot tell you how many hours this took. What we found was shocking.)

The Seventeenth Window. Eleven o'clock & they were having their coffee & chocolate biscuits in the Morning Room. The winter sky was very blue that day, the blue of one of Ermine's paintings of the fields around Zennor, which she'd sent Old Fox during the height of the Great

The Twenty-second Window. Wolf was sitting in his warm bedroom surrounded by his Christmas shopping - perfumes and talcs and soaps and books and fountain pens and diaries and boxes of chocolates. He sat there and looked at them and he simply couldn't remember who they were for.

The Twenty-fourth Window. It was just after tea and whilst everyone was having a little rest before dinner, tucked under eiderdowns or snoozing by the fire, the Doctor had driven Old Fox to the Sheep Church, the lonely chapel-of-ease on the downs by the sea. It was dark and

Huge respect for Shazia Saddiq, a former sub-postmistress from Newcastle, who sat with her legal team & stared down Stephen Bradshaw at today’s inquiry. The inquiry was told how he hounded her with threatening phone calls, on one occasion calling her a “bitch” That poor woman had

I might have wet eyes. Just wonderful

We’ve been sold out, fellow doctors. We never agreed that PAs could be doctor **substitutes** but looking at these excerpts ⬇️ it seems NHSE had planned that all along. Some senior doctors are enabling it, undermining our profession & future of doctor-led NHS medical services.

Lady in the slipper shop said to me “literally everybody has gone up at least one shoe size in the pandemic” and I think I have found the one thing that was not on my list of known knowns of pandemic harms

Late afternoon on Sunday. Old Fox had scrubbed the oak table in the kitchen and placed a vase of the first daffodils in the centre. He sat down on a chair by the range and poured himself a little snifter of Coltsfoot Wine for his chest. The rain had stopped for a little while and

🦊🌿Competition time! To celebrate May Day and the longed-for coming of summer, I'm giving away a signed edition of my 'Reynard the Fox', a copy of the accompanying gold-tipped 'A Fox for All Seasons' journal, both with map endpapers & fine ribbons, packets of Dorset red butter

New Yorkers 🌊