Memoir
One of my favourite reads in my teens and 20s was MAD magazine. It was quite humorous, and took the rise out of just about everything, but in a gentle way, in contrast to the vituperative stuff that passes for satire these days.
Graphic by Terry Freedman
Quite by chance I’ve been reading about bureaucracy recently — such as in customer (dis)service — and it reminded me of North Thames Gas’s attempts to drive me mad. That was many years ago and North Thames Gas doesn’t even exist any more, but even now the mere mention of a gas company starts my nervous twitch going.
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A load of chips — photo by Terry Freedman
Lois has an arts degree from the University of Oxford, which means that she can tell you everything you need to know about the influence of post-modernism on Latin-American literature in the final quarter of the twentieth century, but she can’t add up.
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Knighton Wood, by Terry Freedman
It is understandable that an ambitious young man, in his late twenties and early thirties, wanting success in all its various guises, and with a belief in the power of the mind, would be attracted to certain kinds of books, tapes and courses. The young man I’m talking about was, of course, me.
Read MoreTravelling back from my saxophone lesson on Saturday, a very attractive young woman kept looking at me. Did I finally have sax appeal I asked myself.
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Photo by Terry Freedman
Last week, Elaine, a friend of hers (D) and I went to an art gallery. On our return we caught the Overground train at Highbury and Islington, heading towards Stratford….
Read More“This should do it.” My father was responding to my mother’s growing exasperation with the two-year old me constantly getting under her feet in the kitchen.
Read MoreThe curtain goes up, to reveal Terry slaving over a hot keyboard. He turns to the audience….
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