This is simply a short blog, on the shortest day, to mark the Winter Light. I tend to find that the journey down into darkness feels like it happens quicker than the journey back into the year's dawn, rather like intellectual endeavours. By which I mean, that 'time' between the Autumn Equinox and the Winter Solstice, is a slippery slope of mud and falling leaves. It ricochetes down into darkness here in Wales like relentless rain. Whereas the time after, that between Solstice

I was recently asked, after having given a seminar paper on Layers in the Landscape (LitL) as invited speaker at York, what in retrospect, I would "do differently." I didn't give a very coherent answer. Afterwards, in discussion with the querant (Dr. Suzi Richer), I examined why - and came to the rapid conclusion that the reasons were/are that there is, essentially, nothing that I would do differently if I were to go back in time. This is because, without both the negative an

Dear Diary, November 23rd, Aberystwyth Arts Centre, 7.30pm. I think that the oceans might have begun to boil. Or perhaps they already were and we were too entranced with sitting in a theatre, listening to somebody talking about how the ocean's might one day boil, too busy applauding, to notice. Rarely, are moments gifted to us when we can step back from this, our own noise, for a moment. To step, with total commitment, into somebody else's opera; to make room for one hand cla