It’s difficult to imagine the world without Jude Zietara, who died suddenly on the 3rd of April 2026. He was a blaze of light, a comet in the night sky, a magical creature, an original thinker and bursting with creative potential. He was only 24 when he left us.
I want to use this space to share my happy memories of Jude. (more…)
The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography published Timothy Neat’s lyrical description of Stephanie Wolfe Murray, in 2021. You can see the official version if you pay about £100 to the Oxford dons, or see the draft version (here/below) for free. I reposted it on my new blog in November 2025 (Rupert WM).
By Tim Neat (more…)
First of all, I want to ask if you’ve seen this film we made of my Dad, using footage from the sixties and some video shot about 10 years ago when he was obsessed by hens and living with my Mother again.
Secondly, if you’re interested in my Dad you might like to see this article and especially the 57 comments that are posted below it. It was a blog-based appeal for testimonials about him and they show dimensions of my father’s life that we never knew. (more…)
I spent my last month in Scotland going through the residue of my mother’s stuff (she died in June 2017 and if you’d like to see how wonderful she was click here). We had a container full of things and I gave most of it away, to family and friends, but some of it had to be chucked. One of the last things I dealt with was a tatty-looking notebook I thought was only filled with scores for card games and to-do lists. It had to go. (more…)
I first posted this article in 2016, but it’s so useful for anyone who wants to go travelling that I’m re-posting it again now. In the interim, Darmon Richter has published a book that is well worth getting: Chernobyl: A Stalker’s Guide
By Darmon Richter (more…)
He leaned into me, blue eyes wide, face twitching.
‘My elbow’s fucked mate. I can barely open it further than this.’ An arm extended, palm facing up. ‘It’s from plasterin’ mate. Plasterin’ and wankin’.
His skin was blotchy and sagging. Bags were grey and oily under his eyes. He kicked a clump of mud off his boot. (more…)