on the November 2017 table

I am documenting the year with monthly photographs of my kitchen table. Capturing the jumble that accumulates here, at the heart of the kitchen, is also a way to record some of the domestic stories of our family life. On the November table there is tea. Always tea. Endless cups that get me through the

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the year in books :: November 2017

My last month’s read was The Mother of All Questions, a secondary collection of feminist essays by the brilliant Rebecca Solnit. This month, I’m slightly behind the curve, reading Ali Smith’s Autumn, which was released last year. I’m hoping to speed through it in order to follow it with its sequel, Winter, which has just been

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a poem for November

My November Guest ‘My Sorrow, when she’s here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be; She loves the bare, the withered tree; She walked the sodden pasture lane.   Her pleasure will not let me stay. She talks and I am fain to list: She’s glad the

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