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THERE are people who return year after year after year to the same place for their annual holidays. Familiarity apparently brings content. And probably boredom, as they are not averse also to sneaking away on an occasional long weekend break which, if pressed, they will describe as “refreshing”. Which shows
NOW here’s a weird, even disturbing, thing; my trusty Garmin records a hilly four-mile run around the city where I live. Yet I have scant memory of it ever happening. How can this be? The watch tells of a continuous jog with every second accounted for. By contrast, my
THERE’S nothing like revisiting an old friend. So much forgotten pleasure to be derived from taking giant steps back to the very early years. In so doing we revive experiences that only now are revealed and recognised for their formative effect on so much that followed. As a youth, I
OKAY, so life’s a journey. We all know that; it has been stated often enough. We also know, as with any journey, there will inevitably be stops, delays, breakdowns, detours, U-turns and even the need for spare parts and replacements. There will be tears and laughter; excruciating sadness and unfettered
THIS Icelandic journey into the dark side sparked something of a defining moment. Or, more precisely, a desire to have something defined. Better than that, a search for the definition of a definition; one that entailed going beyond the resources of the OED or Mr Google. The puzzle centres on
TRACING one’s ancestors is akin to joining Poirot as he unravels the threads of an Agatha Christie mystery. Except that the little Belgian detective eventually provides acceptable answers. Not so with family history. So many detours and distractions. So many loose ends. So much that is left unexplained. Such was
Seems that stream of consciousness is still in use: THE following apologies for sentences are all complete and direct quotes from one who should know better. What happened to leading by example? “If there is an unfairness there is nothing that I will do in order to address that unfairness.”
OUR libraries and bookshops offer an intriguing double-whammy for devotees of crime fiction. They can either select a mystery by the enduring and much revered Josephine Tey, or they can delve into a tale of much more recent vintage in which the same Josephine Tey is the solver of
AS far back as I can discover, the patriarchal side of my Celtic family has always had close links to the sea. It has brought them employment, skills and opportunities. But also uncertainty, hardship and sudden death, in peace as well as in war. They include shipwrights, blacksmiths, mariners, tidewaiters,
DOCTORS must be loving this new world order. The one where they filter enquiries to such an extent that they are rarely bothered with having to deal with patients face to face. Those nuisances (once known as patients) are kept firmly at arm’s length; or an aggravating (Dial 1 for
Welcome to my website and blog, and to my world. The name is Tony Berry, writer and editor (and lifelong pedant) with five crime fiction books and two memoirs to my name. Born, educated and working for many years in England, I then moved to Australia before eventually returning to my roots in 2010 and am now happily back where my working life began—in beautiful, rugged and still mystical Cornwall.
