Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter
funereal procedures protocols rituals protests placards arrests public grief private secrets practiced masks peaceful objections criminalised orders servants uniforms divine proclamation tyranny subservience assumed required rising against rites worship imposed… Continue Reading
Late to bed last night, too late, as usual, when A is working a late shift. I can’t get into the habit of going to bed as soon as she… Continue Reading
A perspective. On average, about 2,000 people die in the UK every day. Yesterday, the Queen was one of them. Of course, when someone who has been at the centre… Continue Reading
The National Health Service is magnificent. I got up early to go for my CT scan. M gave me a lift down to the hospital, and held my hand when… Continue Reading
For some reason, as I was spreading jam on my bread this morning, the cool breeze coming in through the open French doors in the library (God, that sounds much… Continue Reading
the shepherd they live on the hills a gasp away from the house; singular single androgynous indeterminate shimmering fading in and out of the green, made of air and fire… Continue Reading
the man the man is tired, sick and tired of the world not turning the way he wants it to, his faith in the spirits ebbing, exhausted by too many… Continue Reading
Last night, when M went to pick up A from work, the house was utterly silent (we’d paused a film we’d started watching), and I took great pleasure in wandering… Continue Reading
Today I actually did things I wanted to do. Had a lie-in. Drove down to Stradbroke (and dropped A at work on the way). Watched the lads play cricket (they… Continue Reading
Being back on BBC Radio Norfolk with Stephen Bumfrey yesterday was a blast. But I’d been more nervous than I can ever remember being when I walked down into Norwich…. Continue Reading