Tag Archives: Clive James

The diary of another nobody

It’s the nature of autumn, perhaps- those barred clouds blooming in the soft-dying days (not mine, Keats), days which die noticeably earlier with every sunset now- that has got me thinking more than usual about how long I have left … Continue reading

Posted in Oy vey (cancer gripes), Reading watching listening thinking | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 39 Comments