I went to sleep last night with images of a burning 12th Century icon in my head. This morning my first waking thoughts were of Notre Dame de Paris, an iconic building that had stood for hundreds of years as a majestic and indestructible feature of the Paris skyline, until 6.30p.m. yesterday. Paris is only... Continue Reading →
What a few days it has been for me in the city of dreaming spires. I don’t like to brag, but I soaked up the words of wisdom of writer and broadcaster, Melvyn Bragg, who is best known as editor and presenter of ITV’s South Bank Show. He was talking about his new novel Love Without End:... Continue Reading →
For the last three mornings, I have thrown back the curtains to look out across a valley of rolling hills, vineyards and circling kites. In the stillness of the early Oxfordshire morning, graceful kites soar within feet of my bedroom window. So close I feel I could reach out and touch them, or at least... Continue Reading →
I was lucky enough to have known my birth parents, but on and off over the years, I have tried to build my family tree, but there is one branch that consistently fails to bear fruit.
He averted her gaze, sucking air in through his teeth. One of his many irritating habits and something he always did when he knew he was in the wrong. He sighed deeply before turning to look at her again, a weak smile rippling across his face as his eyelashes fluttered.
Lost Blogs is delighted to introduce photographer, Paul Walker, who has been exhibiting and publishing photographs since 2013. Paul has recently published a book of his photographs taken between 2013 and 2018, called A Picture Paints a Thousand Words. Which is a collaboration between a photographer and a group of international writers.
Fellow members of the equally ecstatic audience leaving the theatre behind him applauded when his feet touched the ground. He laughed, turned for a few seconds, bowed to the assembled crowd then bounded off in the direction of Shaftesbury Avenue singing, ‘Just you wait, ‘enry ‘iggins, just you wait!’
A crackling log fire reminds me of many things. Loved-up evenings on the sofa in front of a crackling fire binge watching box sets and eating a ridiculous amount of chocolate, without realising it. My childhood, growing up in an age before Social Media, playing cards in front of the fire during long winter evenings; my big brother and parents always let me win. As someone who functions much better during the summer months, a burning fire makes the winter bearable, it is the pumping heart of a home.
I'm biased when it comes to The Algarve. It is my personal, European haven, the place I would like to spend more time. It's not just a passing phase, I've been in love with the place for twenty-six years... and who can blame me? I have waxed lyrical about it since I was blown away on my first visit.