Love Life and Destiny

I am at that time in life when I am looking back at where I have come from, some of the people that I have met along the way, the impression that they made on me. One memory is that of Daphne Du Maurier, author of Rebecca, Jamaica Inn, The Birds and other modern literary classics. My home was near to Menabilly House in Cornwall, the reputed inspiration for Manderley. I used to walk across the estate, a teenager in search of meaning, lost in my own fantasy land. Cornwall, the home of my fathers, a finger of land seemingly pointing westward towards the New World, is the perfect place to live if you are a writer. The softer south coast, facing the English Channel with the wilder, more rugged north coast hammered  by the harsh Atlantic ocean. You are never far from the sea, wherever you live, and the contrasts challenge you. The combination of low scudding cloud cast from the seas, crouched trees and the threat of rain always bring you back into the moment. When I first met ...

In all probability, mathematically speaking, of course, I have lived the majority of my expected life, even if I make it to 106 years of age like my maternal grandmother. Memories become an important facet of one's life, they provide the waypoints upon which you can reconstruct the more noteworthy fragments of your life. Some of these remembrances can be extremely painful, others bring you much-needed joy at a time when you need it the most. As a writer, especially when your life purpose is centred on disseminating whatever you have experienced for the entertainment of others, memories are my stock in trade. This blog will draw upon these fading imprints in the coming days and weeks, topped up by my travels to far distant places. Some of these memories will be stacked up and compared with places that I lived in over 50 years ago: others will merely provide colour and depth to the ongoing narrative. However, we should always hold to the simple truth that our knowledge...