You help me see the world more. It’s quite extraordinary, even though I think I am paying close attention, you provide quite a lens. E.g., now I see that I DO have some optimism—while I expect nothing but doom on the one hand, I regularly think things like I can garden like Vida Sackville West, etc. Reading your writing is a little bit like looking at art. After I spend some time looking at art, I suddenly start to see differently. Then it fades because awareness demands so much. But it’s what living fully requires.
Mum and I used to read aloud to each other, until she died nearly 5 years ago. I was re-reading some Margaret Atwood and wishing I could read it aloud to her when my phone buzzed, and I checked it and found this. I may just read it aloud into the Void and hope it connects with some of her residual atoms.
Lovely essay, Tom. It reminded me of conversations with my dad, and mum. Maybe I'll say more later, but I'm on a train using my phone, and with a bike, and there are some dodgy looking blokes eyeing me up.
I love the picture of your dad reading your book. My parents have always been the first readers of my novels though traditionally I’ve always read them chapters over the phone as I’ve written them.
They are the best audience for new untested ideas and, looking back, I think all that episodic reading was practice for serializing and narrating my novels here on Substack. I really enjoyed this piece, thanks for making it free.
Sooo much to say and I don’t want to waffle but I so relate to the being a big old mixed bag. I can feel the giddy joy of a six year old when finding a feather with raindrops resting on it and yet in the same instant feel like its the end of the world if I accidentally stand on a snail. It’s an exquisite and painful existence and I’m here for it all.
Suffice to say….this was just MAGICKS. MAGICKS! 🙏🏻🪄👌🏻✨🤓
Your father’s paintings are lovely. The Disaster PingPong struck such a distant chord, it must be in the DNA. In deep gratitude that you share your lovely life and wondrous people with us.
Thank you for the gift of this, Tom! What a beautiful and poignant essay, I loved it. And though I don't know your parents personally but only through the window of your writing, I feel as fond of them as if I did (I hope this isn't creepy!), and wish them both well.
Also, my family did the 'three rings when you get home' thing for years! Even when I lived literally three doors down the street from my parents - if I forgot, I'd get an indignant call from my Mum asking where I'd got to :D
Enjoyed this so much. Your dad is looking out for you. So sweet. Reminds me of my own dad. When I read that your dad still had some artwork , I was going to say you should sell it here. And you do. I was able to purchase the print of ‘Cattle at Dawn’. So excited. Your dad is a couple of years older than me. Seventy is the new fifty. Thanks for posting this today.
Lies!!! I don’t feel a day younger than 56…in fact some days I feel like I’m 86…what ever that means…how come I don’t feel like I’m 36? damn…I felt great then!!! 🤣😘
This was a great article to read, entertaining as always. I love the painting of cattle by your dad, he sounds like an awesome person. Thank you for sharing.
You pay such attention to people, and animals, and all things. Thank goodness you are a writer.
Thank you!
You help me see the world more. It’s quite extraordinary, even though I think I am paying close attention, you provide quite a lens. E.g., now I see that I DO have some optimism—while I expect nothing but doom on the one hand, I regularly think things like I can garden like Vida Sackville West, etc. Reading your writing is a little bit like looking at art. After I spend some time looking at art, I suddenly start to see differently. Then it fades because awareness demands so much. But it’s what living fully requires.
Well said.
Paying close attention is surely a prerequisite for the job.
Mum and I used to read aloud to each other, until she died nearly 5 years ago. I was re-reading some Margaret Atwood and wishing I could read it aloud to her when my phone buzzed, and I checked it and found this. I may just read it aloud into the Void and hope it connects with some of her residual atoms.
Do it. Those atoms ARE out there and they will start dancing:)
Lovely essay, Tom. It reminded me of conversations with my dad, and mum. Maybe I'll say more later, but I'm on a train using my phone, and with a bike, and there are some dodgy looking blokes eyeing me up.
Haha. Thanks Terry. IF YOU’RE WEARING A FANCY JACKET MAKE SURE YOU TAKE IT OFF.
...but only if you have a shirt on under it? :#
Fear not, Camilla. I am jacketless, not shirtless 😁
Hahaha that's probably safest :D
😁
🤣
Yeah, LOONIES AND FUCKWITS no doubt
😂 definitely!
I love the picture of your dad reading your book. My parents have always been the first readers of my novels though traditionally I’ve always read them chapters over the phone as I’ve written them.
They are the best audience for new untested ideas and, looking back, I think all that episodic reading was practice for serializing and narrating my novels here on Substack. I really enjoyed this piece, thanks for making it free.
Thanks Ben!
I love your dad. He is my kind of people. Will bookmark and save this to reread when feeling blue.
Ohhh the MAGIC of this. I fricking love your dad!
Sooo much to say and I don’t want to waffle but I so relate to the being a big old mixed bag. I can feel the giddy joy of a six year old when finding a feather with raindrops resting on it and yet in the same instant feel like its the end of the world if I accidentally stand on a snail. It’s an exquisite and painful existence and I’m here for it all.
Suffice to say….this was just MAGICKS. MAGICKS! 🙏🏻🪄👌🏻✨🤓
Thanks Suzy! Nice to know I’m not the only one who feels like that. I’m still feeling terrible about a snail I stood on in autumn 2018.
The light in your dad's landscape paintings is amazing. I want to be in them.
I think he would be a delight to know.
Your dad is a treasure. From now on, I will try to remember to watch out for fuckwits and loonies.
My day turns out so much nicer when I start it with a coffee and your newsletter.
Thanks Anne!
Your father’s paintings are lovely. The Disaster PingPong struck such a distant chord, it must be in the DNA. In deep gratitude that you share your lovely life and wondrous people with us.
Thank you, Liz!
Thank you for the gift of this, Tom! What a beautiful and poignant essay, I loved it. And though I don't know your parents personally but only through the window of your writing, I feel as fond of them as if I did (I hope this isn't creepy!), and wish them both well.
Also, my family did the 'three rings when you get home' thing for years! Even when I lived literally three doors down the street from my parents - if I forgot, I'd get an indignant call from my Mum asking where I'd got to :D
I'm really looking forward to reading 1983!
Thanks Camilla. Nice to know it wasn’t just me!
what a talented family. Your dad obviously knew his art history, too, judging by the "Bridget" example https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/waterhouse-the-lady-of-shalott-n01543
I loved this. Plus, your dad is an amazing artist.
Thanks Priscilla. He is!
WOFFAL bumper stickers or t-shirts, what do you think?
Enjoyed this so much. Your dad is looking out for you. So sweet. Reminds me of my own dad. When I read that your dad still had some artwork , I was going to say you should sell it here. And you do. I was able to purchase the print of ‘Cattle at Dawn’. So excited. Your dad is a couple of years older than me. Seventy is the new fifty. Thanks for posting this today.
Brilliant. Glad you got it, Monica! And thank you. 70 is definitely the new 50. Hopefully (for me) that also means 50 is the new 30.
Lies!!! I don’t feel a day younger than 56…in fact some days I feel like I’m 86…what ever that means…how come I don’t feel like I’m 36? damn…I felt great then!!! 🤣😘
This was a great article to read, entertaining as always. I love the painting of cattle by your dad, he sounds like an awesome person. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you!