Krefttik 2.5: Krefttik thwarted

Drove over to the East End today for dinner with Adrian and Margaret so thought it was the perfect opportunity to pop into Klein’s on my way to try to find some Krefttik. But no, even though kosher shops are *always open* on Sundays (it’s a quirk of the Sunday trading laws: if you close on Saturdays for religious

Tired and emotional

I find it hard to throw things out. Other people love it – they gaily chuck stuff into the bin and then revel in all the beautiful space around them. Me, I find it hard. I don’t mean like, throwing out crisp packets. But things that have meant something to me. Or might have meant

North to the Future (or in this case, to the past)

I am in Seaham, County Durham, for the first time in 14 years. It is peculiar. I feel like I’m in 1991. To explain more fully. In 1988 my parents bought a little two-up, two-down miner’s cottage in Seaham, at that time, one of the most depressed areas of the UK. My dad has links to

A wilderness of monkeys

Did you ever wonder what award-shortlisted authors do the night before the ceremony? Do you imagine some glamorous evening, perhaps, sipping champagne on a terrace? Or settling down between smooth white sheets on a lavender-filled pillow for an early night? Or, stoic and professional, working on the new book just like every other night? Well, perhaps Olga Grushin and Yiyun


My grandmother died yesterday. She was 89 years old and had been ill, but I’m still sad. It’s funny how that works: even though logically I knew that it was inevitable, there’s still no way to anticipate the sadness, to deal with it early or reason yourself out of it. I’m sad. I miss my