The first time I saw my younger brother Phillip, he was lying in an incubator in St Thomas’s Hospital, London. He was slightly premature, and purple-faced and tiny. What struck me, though, was the blanket he was swaddled in: white …
Greece was destined to burn
My grandmother had the theory that, as we get older, our mind subconsciously cleanses our memories of myriad misfortunes, leaving a sanitised version of the past for us to feel nostalgic about. The optimism of remembrance, she called it. Little …