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Katherine Gregor's Blog

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Apr.13.2014
After a warm spell, there’s an icy wind blowing through my jacket as hundreds of us are queuing to get into Earl’s Court exhibition centre.  Plastic badge cases are handed out at the entrance.  We’ve been instructed to download our ID badges and print them in colour but I notice that most...
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Apr.06.2014
Eclectic, dirty, quirky and – for a European capital – surprisingly scruffy.  This city reminds me of a bric-à-brac shop, where a precious artefact, a piece of useless junk,  an item of modern tat and a neglected masterpiece lie side to side on a moth-ravaged, dusty piece of...
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Mar.02.2014
* Please see Part One of this story, last week,  A Bookshop for Free Thinkers .... Last Thursday, 27th February 2014.  “Eat.  You need sustenance,” says Barbara, my publisher, as the tray with canapés comes towards us.  But I can’t eat a thing.  My stomach feels...
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Feb.23.2014
It was advertised through Twitter as a book launch cum Charles Dickens’ birthday party, two years ago.  I decided it was the only way to spend a snowy February evening.  Trying to keep my balance on the icy Chelsea street, I reached the corner bookshop.  bookHaus, with a...
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Feb.16.2014
Just start.  Take that first – hard – step. “I haven’t written since before Christmas,” I say to H.  “If we stay at home, I’ll just keep working.  I really want to write something – anything – today.  Besides, we both need fresh air and some good coffee...
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Dec.22.2013
One of my recurring nightmares is missing Christmas.  When I am under intense stress and feel like I am losing control of my life, I start dreaming that, somehow or other, I’ve overslept, miscalculated the dates, forgot to look at the calendar, or simply got stuck at work, and Christmas has...
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Dec.15.2013
We happened to find ourselves in the same corner of the room, looking at a print on the wall, sipping our drinks.  We gave each other a polite nod.  I was trying not to look too starstruck.  Ordinarily, I am quite blasé about being in the presence of famous actors.  But this...
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Dec.08.2013
I’ve been thinking about the guilt emotion.  Wondering if guilt can sometimes provide a secure – albeit uncomfortable – hiding place.  Guilt gnaws at our insides.  It pinches so hard at the bottom of our lungs, that we cannot take a full breath.  It tastes like tar....
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Dec.01.2013
Yes
A sea of people rushes forth as soon as the traffic lights turn green.  A faceless crowd all looking down as they stride.  I dodge them to avoid collision.  I try in vain to catch someone – anyone’s – eye.  A man’s large frame clips my shoulder.  My shoulder...
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Nov.24.2013
My sister and I first met nine years ago.  Half-sisters, technically.  Just two of the numerous offspring scattered around Europe by a father who was – it would appear – irresistible to women.   V. and I studied each-other across the table of a bistrot off Regent Street. ...
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Nov.10.2013
I don’t like poetry.  There.  I’ve said it.  Go ahead and tell me that’s as bad as not liking children or animals – or art.  Well, I like most children. I love animals. As for art, I like it – as long as it’s Art – and not an attempt to make lots of money by the...
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Oct.27.2013
“Some people are saying it could be the worst hurricane since 1987,” my friend said to me, yesterday, in response to my blasé attitude.  That’s when I sat up and took notice.  Until that point, I confess, weather warnings and news reports had somehow failed to drive the point home....
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Oct.20.2013
It had lain in its case, on top of the CDs, since I moved here last April.  Occasionally, I would pick it up and blow the dust off the black cloth case, but never open it, even though I longed to.     You see, two of my flatmates are professional musicians.  A flautist and a...
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Oct.06.2013
VIP transport was arranged for her relocation from Ukraine.  Her immediate members of staff, had moved to London ahead of her to get everything ready.  The flat, in a quiet, tree-lined street, was furnished; the fridge was stocked with her favourite delicacies, and shelves filled with...
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Sep.22.2013
  “The whole N. family is coming for an impromptu lunch at three o’clock,” says my friend L.  “Why don’t you come, too?”   I know N.’s family.  An artistic painter father, a philosophical mathematician mother, and a  polyglot, poly-talented daughter who could reason...
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