26 Writers in Residence 2024

On Saturday I think it’s Sunday and wander to Columbia Road to channel my inner Clarissa and buy my own flowers. It’s not, but I return with rye bread, which sets me up well for a day of flaneuring as

INTO THE SUBLIME: THE EIDOPHUSIKON REIMAGINED For starters, a dolphin foetus. Tiger skull. Elephant heart. Penguin skeleton. A jar of moles. All but shoved in your face as you enter the Grant Museum of Zoology at UCL. For main course,

The Gentle tides of human graces Humble, we dive together Under corals’ whisper, Miracles shared between you: A.I., could it be true? New lasting foundations, I, nurture, all Kindness where gentle bonds, never fall. In equity, side by side we

The Silk Road runs in exhibitions in the British Library and the British Museum. Between the two I joined another route today. It took me past blue plaques commemorating lives, loves and creativities of the Bloomsbury Group in Gordon Square,

Sporting Lambs David Mullany’s wonderful walk around just four streets will stay with me for a long time. Meeting on Lamb’s Conduit Street – the name of which has fascinated me each time I walk it – the group continued

“Blooms-bury” From: Monster Flowers we gather around tables – schoolchildren with safety scissors, faeries set to a flower feast – and shape crepe, pulp hearts of conifers (reduced by a dimension, then returned) a simulacrum of their natural peers. a

From: Walking Like a Human “Pigeon’s Wing Blue” in a ukulele cuddle of bramber green festival flutter and abandoned feathers it’s blue that drew me in a clumsy flapping of startled flocks of pigeons land among copper-lime leaves of some

The Indian Dance Of Storytellers Opens The Bloomsbury Festival What better way to start this year’s Bloomsbury Festival than with the spectacular and stunning performance by Parbati Chaudhury’s Kathak students, an ancient dance form from India, and what would be