EWAN CAMERON picks out two fascinating music shows, fusing the Korean, and the Celtic, with the modern
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Eras end and begin together
Treading common ground at a time of loss and gain
ALT-COUNTRY EXCELLENCE: Naomi Bedford and Paul Simmonds
BENJAMIN POTHIER suggests that Palaeolithic cave paintings in Spain point to the ceremonial use of hallucinogenic flora
The bard confirms that the right has a humour bypass, and replays the English Revolution on period instruments
MARIA DUARTE and ANDY HEDGECOCK review Sunny Dancer, Tony, Songs of Forgotten Trees, and The End of Oak Street
JOHN GREEN relishes a powerful and moving drama that explores the lived realities of west London’s Punjabi community
MARTIN HALL welcomes a plea for greater compassion between believer and non-believer via the framework of philosophical enquiry
Sorry to miss my last column. It was my brother’s funeral. He was 29 years older than me, elder son of our father, who was born in 1899. I wrote this poem for his funeral and decided to share it with you.
My Brother, Uncle Don
End of an era. Goodbye ‘Uncle Don’.
I’ve known you all my life, and now you’re gone.
My parents said that’s what I should call you
When I was three and you were thirty-two
But soon I said, ‘Mum, “Uncle’s” just polite.
Don’s not my uncle. He’s my brother, right?’
So this precocious kid just called you Don —
For over fifty years, and now you’re gone.
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