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Polar Bear
I am your inner polar bear. Find me before it's too late.
There's a photograph of me rafting an iceberg, the melted sea all around, the sea that should have been solid.
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On neighbourhood sharing in 1960s Accrington
My Christmas begins at 3pm on Christmas Eve when I turn on Radio Four to hear the Festival of Carols and Nine Lessons. At the same time I pour the pink champagne. Already on the plate is black bread and wild smoked salmon. The colours are as good as the taste.
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Why I adore the night
It's human to want light and warmth - our pagan ancestors had a calendar of fire-festivals, and God's first recorded words, according to the Hebrew Bible are 'Let there be light.'
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Down and out in Paris
I first met George Whitman in 2007 when he hit me over the head with a book.
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Shafts of Sunlight
Language is what stops the heart exploding. Or as Eliot puts it in Murder in the Cathedral, 'This is one moment/ But know that another/ shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy.'
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Homeopathy
Picture this. I am staying in a remote cottage in Cornwall without a car. I have a temperature of 102, spots on my throat, delirium, and a book to finish. My desperate publisher suggests I call Hilary Fairclough, a homeopath who has a practise in London and Penzance. She sends round a remedy called Lachesis, made from snake venom. Four hours later I have no symptoms whatsoever.
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Oranges
It is impossible to begin at the beginning. Any scientist can tell
you what happened in the first three seconds after the Big Bang, but none can say for sure what happened in the three seconds previous.
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Hercules
Google Hercules and you will score 11,400,000 hits.
The Greek hero, famous for his Labours and his love-life, has produced plenty of off-spring: Helicopters, condoms, gay nightclubs, plumbing, (maybe something to do with his bright idea to divert a river to clean out the world's filthiest stables). The City of Hercules is in the San Francisco Bay Area. The Hercules Galaxies, mysterious island universes, lie 650 million light years away.
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Tacita Dean
This summer we had the pleasure of walking along the River Thames between the Hayward Gallery and Tate Modern, and finding not one, but two, major women artists dominating both spaces. Rebecca Horn and Frida Kahlo were an exciting double first, and this autumn, women will again be major players in the art galleries, with new work by Rachel Whiteread, Sarah Lucas, Gillian Wearing and Tacita Dean, all coming our way.
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The Women
Women, women everywhere, and not a man in sight: Top-shelf centre-fold? Nunnery? Single-sex boarding school? Feminist Utopia? Beauty Parlour?
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