Graham Dukes can still find new things to grumble about. Yes, I have reached my fourscore years and a little more. And no, most of the time I do not feel old. But there was one moment…. It happened in Kabul, of all places. I was consulting, as a member of a health team, and…
Fair game
Claims championing the prowess of women have come thick and fast in the last weeks. First, it was over a meal when one of my sons argued forcefully that women have always been the great civilisers, and that it is through their influence on men that people live together as citizens and that society has…
The parable of the humble shoe lace
Some things are important more for what they represent than for what they are, and for me one such is the humble shoelace. These long, thin and usually featureless strands have been threaded through shoe eyelets for over a thousand years and have changed little. There has been competition - buckles, elastic, zips, plastic and…
Careless talk
Last week the phone rang. It was my very worried friend Ron seeking advice. He told me how he had just learned that his elderly mother had developed a life threatening medical condition. For many years she had been taking a blood-thinning drug following a heart operation. Earlier that evening Nurse X had collared Ron…
I saw my psychotherapist again today
I saw my psychotherapist again today. I waved at him from the car, but he ignored me. I could see he recognised me, but he wouldn’t stop. So I chased him, backwards -- as if we were in a Bond movie, I threw the car into reverse in the narrow one-way street with the tyres…
The bear necessities
Some time ago I saw a film about a polar bear. He was, to all intents and purposes, alone. From an aerial view he could be seen methodically criss-crossing a valley, occasionally stopping to sniff the air. After one such sniffing, his criss-crossing ceased, he turned to his right and, with purpose, set off on…
Shocks and sandals on the road to Damascus
A revelation last week in Damascus prompts me to declare that the person writing this blog is me. I do this in response to the plight of a certain Amina Abdallah Araf Al-Omari who could never have made such a statement. It now transpires that ‘she’, a brave middle-aged, lesbian academic, who since her appearance…
Long lost friend
Alan West has another of his odd terns.. The homeward ferry from Brittany is gliding past the Isle of Wight; past Ventnor to be precise and I am standing on deck in the evening sun, enjoying the offshore breeze. How can I be so precise from three miles out? Well, Google maps and the satellite…