Foul Play

I’m not a great sports lover. Consider boxing cannot be considered a ‘sport’ by any sane, thinking individual; and certain rugby only receives the respect it doesn’t deserve because it was nurtured in a private school: institutions guaranteed to fuck up boys’ minds,...

Scales of Justice

High above the Central Court of England and Wales, commonly known as The Old Bailey, standing tall and straight, a sword pointing to the heavens in her right hand, a pair of scales hanging from her left, her feet resting on the globe beneath them, her spiky crown...

A Woman’s Voice

A child early to walking and talking and, it could be said, early to finding my writer’s voice, in that I wrote my first short story collection when I was five or six – see On the Shelf podcast – my need to express myself creatively has continued throughout my life,...

From the cradle to the grave

Last year brought 75th birthday ‘celebrations’ for the NHS, the state of Israel, and for me. The last British troops left Haifa four days after I almost killed my mother, the home-birth of her second child suddenly a medical emergency, our hospital discharge coming a...

A cold coming…

Christmas almost upon us, the cold snap coming to an end, shopping for spices in the fabulous market of this fine city, the friendly stallholder asked me how I was. A dangerous question to a writer partial to telling it like it is. A bit down, I answered… voice...