Jonathan Chamberlain

Okay, this is quite outstanding from Bedford Council.

The Death of My Dog on putting Sally to sleep.

Read this if you’ve ever lost a pet, or might do so one day, or want to understand anyone who has or might. Beautiful writing on love and loss. open.substack.com/pub/holbolro...

Idiotic right-wing propoganda: "London - before everything, it was one of the most beautiful, clean and safest places in Britain." In the AI image, a character in the foreground has his feet on the wrong way, facing backwards.

London in the good old days - before everyone's feet pointed forwards.

Likewise. Merry Christmas.

Thanks, Chris, you too. Hope you are fully functioning on all limbs.

It’s Christmas. Here’s a dog.

Right, this post makes sense now. Were I to be treated to this, I should be awfully tempted to milk the situation for a day or so longer than is strictly necessary.

Oh Chris! What a bore. Glad you’re okay. Is it a consolation that you are now suffering for your art?

Oh, it is! Which podcast?

I should add our distanced internet friendship, Gennie, & whilst I’m at it enquire gently after the next book.

Do you do a daily gratitude list? I try. When I do, two items appear every time: my wife & BBC Radio 3.

The Eq Act allows single sex exemptions in certain circumstances. As soon as a person of the opposite sex is admitted, the organisation is no longer single sex. If the criteria for exclusion is ‘not trans’ that is discriminatory because there are no ‘not trans’ exemptions in the Act.

Northern Ireland Legal Quarterly This is the fourteenth contribution to NILQ's Reflections on Writing series.

This is an article about academic writing about prisons but actually it is about all writing & meaning & what matters. It is right and wise and beautiful. It is by my dear friend, Alison Liebling. Please read it. I can’t wait for her book.

doi.org/10.53386/nil...

“Where one third would kill another third while the remaining third watches“

In honour of your new country of residence, would she accept tea?

Thank to Past Me for clearly understanding the bass part here.

I have somehow set up the BBC Sport app to notify me only of the fortunes of the Afghanistan cricket team. I am thus informed by way of bright ping when every wicket falls. I have no idea how or why I did this, nor any clue as to how to change it.

Happy Birthday indeed!

In this photo I am smiling with the surprise and delight I actually felt at meeting IRL one of my favourite writers. She is smiling too, which is nice.

It’s ‘social’ media, people! A completely unexpected and rather wonderful joy to recognise @janecasey.bsky.social at Marylebone and in the 5 mins before my train fan-boy her on just how gripping her writing is. @teaforpterosaur.bsky.social , we missed you.

And, the data signal is much stronger on the Chiltern line. You can actually get some work done.

I am in the dungeon in Windsor Castle. This is why and why I wouldn’t be anywhere else. The works choir is singing evensong in St George’s Chapel shortly. Please tell us to break her leg.

Paywall (sobs)

Back at Shell-Mex house literally 40 years since I was last in it. I was an intern (not that we used that word) at Shell between school and university. She has long departed the building, but I’m here to lunch with a friend whose company now occupies part of it.

This is the current display in our canteen in the office.

In other news, I am fat.

Or teenager refuses to do it, gets horribly sun-burned and rest of holiday much impaired by crying, wincing and endless searches in local pharmacies for effective ointments aka Summer 2015. Parental schadenfreude tempered, tho because I am a terrible person not eliminated, by very real filial pain.

Albert is a black lab at a choir rehearsal. He has no interest in the Gibbons and wants a treat. Which he is not getting. Here is his backstory https://www.dogsforgood.org/makelifepossible/stories/jemima-albert/

Albert would like you know he is slightly surprised by, and very disappointed in, you

Photograph of the page from the book which describes how during the siege the police had to move their operational headquarters from the Royal College of Needle Work, where they couldn’t smoke, to a Montessori school where they could provided they promised to look after the school’s pet gerbil and not disturb a duck nesting on the top floor.

In a cafe, reading Ben McIntyre’s account of the Iranian Embassy siege; shoulders shaking with silent laughter at this passage. Never mind the SAS, this is the Pride of Britain

Just like the old days! A delight to meet @brummybar.bsky.social IRL on the Chiltern. She is coming up to Town to do God’s work in the Court of Appeal: I’m going to push some pixels around and eat lunch.

The display looks just a bit different. I also suspect the security has improved. Anyway, thanks again. I’m so looking forward to my visit.

Oh thank you so much for this! I learned about the models from a throwaway line in A level. First stop on the pre-uni Inter-rail: Les Invalides, in the attic, which is where they were then. Half were off limits but I sneaked past the guard to see loads more. Can’t wait to see them again.