Virginia Woolf: I miss London life. Leonard: This is not you speaking, Virginia. This is an aspect of your illness. V: It’s me, it is my voice! L: Not you. V: It’s mine, mine only… L: It’s a voice you hear. V: It is not! It is mine. I am dying in this town. L:…
Friends in high places made the Jubilee flotilla much more fun and much less wet. By friends in high places, I mean Harriet and her first floor office in County Hall by Waterloo Bridge which gives us all fantastic views of the boats going past. I put on the earrings I’ve made for the occasion…
I was really not in the mood for church on Sunday. On Saturday, for the umpteenth time, I had put on my happy face on to go to a wedding. It’s not that I didn’t want to be there and I was honestly really glad to be invited and to share their moment. I do…
Life hurts. I could’ve told you that anyway, but yesterday I was enjoying (?) an article entitled ‘the Anthropology of Suffering’ which spelt out the concept in greater detail. Recently one of my classmates critiqued an article we’d read by suggesting that while its writer had painted a picture of the injustice in the world,…
I couldn’t sleep the other night so I reached out my hand and grabbed The Poisonwood Bible. It’s so familiar, so loved, that I reckoned I’d be fine to read a couple of chapters and not have to see it through. But it pulled me back in and sure enough I was ensnared yet again…
It’s a book I avoided reading last year on the grounds that everyone else was reading it. Ten years ago I’d have lapped it up and loved its short chapters’ claims to neatly tie up complex issues of suffering, hell, and the exclusivity of Christianity. Now I’m not so sure. But it’s a book that…
emilyintheworld 