Pete Hartley: sometime dramaturg, perennial scribbler
As filmed by a man with eight legs I have to confess it was a stalking. I looked her up on Facebook and drove across the moors to where I’d worked out she would be. Rawtenstall. I parked the car and unleashed my camera. I was by myself but not alone. My viewfinder located lusty … Continue reading The Union of South Africa and East Lancashire
Trials on a tandem “I’d like to ride a tandem,” said Bob, “along the Pennine Way.” It was the kind of remark Bob would make. He was a well-known character locally and had been my best friend as a child. We were in our twentieth years and still very close. Sharing a tandem in the … Continue reading Downhill from John O’Groats
A reflection The most frequent question asked of those approaching retirement is: what are you going to do? The most potent answer to which is: what do you do on your day off? After 365 consecutive days off it is satisfying to report that retirement is everything that it is cracked up to be – … Continue reading A year of calling it a day
You are what someone else drank Today you will swallow at least 500 molecules of water that passed through Napoleon. Strange but true. Oh, and you’ll swallow a similar amount from Hitler. And from Boadicea, Cleopatra, Napoleon’s lover Josephine, and anyone else you care to name who has been dead for some time. People dismiss … Continue reading Ah Oui! Tonight and every night Josephine!
Uneasy parenting As a babe in arms she stopped breathing at least twice. The memories are very clear. She suddenly jolted forwards and went very stiff. She was locked like that for a few interminable seconds and then she flopped completely limp and lay apparently lifeless in my arms. For more terrible seconds her chest … Continue reading Outside of the thinking box
Elena Ferrante A review This seems to be a strongly autobiographical novel, which is especially interesting in the context of the author having expressed robust feelings regarding the necessary dichotomy between the writer and the written.[1] All fiction is autobiographical to the extent that the writer only has their own life on which to draw. … Continue reading My Brilliant Friend
Hard Times by Lubaina Himid An appreciation Walking into the Hard Times exhibition brought to mind the ignorant tirade of forty years ago when the tabloid press had a field day over the Tate Gallery’s £2,297 purchase of Equivalent VIII by the American minimalist Carl Andre. Ridiculed as ‘a pile of bricks’ and a waste of … Continue reading To help with a handcart
The opening of Preston’s new market A reflection on the first morning A round of applause is always encouraging, and that, along with a choral cheer that didn’t so much lift the roof as reverberate reverently beneath it, heralded the latest regeneration of Preston’s Tardis of trade when it opened today. Sadly, it’s smaller, rather … Continue reading Take off and stalling
A review St Peter’s Arts Centre, matinee Thursday 8th February 2018 Any naturalistic theatre play that would prove equally effective on the screen need not be on the stage. This is such a play. In fact, it would require almost no adjustment to hit home with identical impact on the radio. That synergy sirens theatrical … Continue reading Racism? Not in my back yard.
The river Ribble flowed at a funereal pace. The tide was low, and the drakes and dams arranged along the water’s edge observed a minute’s silence. And then another. And another. Contemplating ad-infinitum. It was a gloriously clear February morning following an overnight frost. The sun had the first token warmth of the year, and … Continue reading Down; by the Riverside
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