Something changes when we think things through. — I once met a man who told me that he found it strange when people did not cry during rainstorms. He found rain bleak, and saddening, and found himself sad whenever rain was falling, and although he did not cry himself he wanted to — “to let the feelings go…

If you blog, or tweet, or keep a journal, or write to friends regularly, or use email, then you probably know what it’s like to begin the process of writing your whatever with the slow, agonising search for a foundation. Maybe you go online, looking for inspiration. Or maybe you…

I spent most of this year away from social media, and as far as possible away from the internet too. …

Early this morning — too early, really — my iPhone burrred its way into my sleep, and woke me. This happens sometimes: either I forgot to turn the phone off before I went to be, or something important has come up. …

I went to the city to escape the rush of country storms, the traffic on the busy major road near my home, the constant, silent, absence of others. …

A very long time ago, in the early 1990s, when I was younger and less frightened by vehicle emissions, I owned a bike. This is not the story of my adventures on the local roads, or of my one collision (with a hedge), or of my constant attempts to find…

Dad sits staring at his iPad, waiting. Siri is holding, calculating, guessing at what to do next. …

Yesterday I read “Dear Men, Feminism Needs You” by Jessica Valenti and thought about men I’ve known since I was a teenager — smart men, angry men, stupid men, selfish men — some mature, some just boys really. Some trying, some not. Women are asking questions like “How can feminists…

October 3rd, and the morning sky is paler than usual. The wind is up – leaves shiver, the high clouds that in summer look stuck in place are drifting, nudged along by the air as it shifts inland from the Atlantic towards London. It is cold. Winter is coming. This…