Our last 'K class' was subject to a special visit. An ex-student was visiting Brockwood for a few days, researching material for her upcoming autobiography, and was asked to give a talk to the school during K class about her life's work. Io Tillett Wright was a student at Brockwood Park ten years ago and has now embarked on a pretty ambitious nation-wide project in her homeland (USA), photographing 10,000 faces of anyone who identifies as anything but 100% hetero, seeking to

We asked to be seated at the table by the window so that we might have a nice view of the ocean. Our waitress - a lady probably in her late fifties if not sixties, with fair skin and a frilly top who looked more like the owner of the establishment than a waitress - told us not to because it was dirty. She offered us a window-side table just two rows behind to which my aunt rolled her eyes. The rest of us were perfectly content with this and I made some small remark to the eff

As I read briefly about the killing of an entire newsroom in Paris this week, my initial reaction was one of surprise and one of the first thoughts which came to me was "this is big". Hours passed until I went back to my computer and read up on the developments of the day, when I realised how big it really was, as I saw it sprawl across my entire Facebook feed. Something about the whole thing irritated me - the immense outpouring of sympathy for Charlie. For some reason that

She had great big attentive eyes like a deer's. Hazel-coloured and wide open like a child's. The eyes of someone who is open to the world, receptive of all the little gusts of knowledge, wisdom and experience its winds and currents throw up to us as an offering. She would ask questions - all sorts - to anyone she happened to be with, seemingly content with their answer; or if not she'd ask another question, but never pester anyone with them. Enigmatic in the face of those who