Christopher Fowler's Blog, page 43

Unwell? This Is Why You Must Come Forward

People with suspected conditions are not coming forward for treatment because they are now frightened of hospitals, despite doctors urging them to seek attention. This post is for them. In March I found myself propelled into a situation more serious than facing a virus overnight I managed to hit the Extreme Risk register on four separate []

VE Day With Bryant & May

Seventy five years ago, my mother Kath was working as a secretary in Clerkenwell when the nation celebrated the unconditional surrender of the Nazis.  Winston Churchill tempered the celebrations by pointing out that Japan had not surrendered a situation that was to change three months later with the horrific war crimes perpetrated on Hiroshima []

How Do You Prefer Your London?

Real or imaginary? In my head theres another London where every fictional character from every London book and film lives. In this London the Droogs still maraud through Thamesmead, Mr Sloane strokes his tanned torso beside the Oasis pool, the sinister Professor Marcus knocks on a door in Kings Cross, Henry Earlforward destroys his marriage []

Mr Fowler’s London Writing Talk Part 2

This is the conclusion of my little talk on London writing. Lets move on 250 years. At the start of Bleak House, Charles Dickens famously points out that there is so much mud in the streets that it would not be surprising to meet a forty-foot Megalosaurus waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn-Hill, and []

Mr Fowler’s London Writing Talk Part 1

The last time I appeared at Londons South Bank Literary Festival I went on after a young slam-poet who not only thrilled me; he left me wondering if I had anything relevant to say. There I was making obscure jokes while someone came on and spoke eloquently from the heart about his life today. This []

The Lockdown Diaries: No Time To Be Bored

Selfish joggers are now the target of national hatred. Its not all intellectual wordplay and learning new juggling skills up here in Fowler Towers, you know. Ive decided that supine entertainment is far more enjoyable than going for a walk. Preferably curled up with as many cushions as one owns. Were British, were thinking; who []

Let’s Raise A Glass

Lately my pals have been calling to ask how I feel on my Big Rogue Cell Adventure, and I have to admit that the bad days are incredibly bad, but Im holding out for the good ones when in a few weeks time after Lockdown and my BRCA I might feel more like rubber-legged Michael []

The Lockdown Diaries: Alphabetical Order

Our post-hospital pastry run has now taken on epic proportions. We have to pass through the scruffy North London neighbourhood of Tufnell Park, which has a run-down little high street inexplicably filled with good independent shops. We return loaded with fresh cinnamon buns, lemon volcanos and buttery mini bread puddings, the kind of cakes Alma []

Should Bryant & May Mention What Happens In The Real World?

Today I fell back with relief into the fictional world of Bryant & May, staging a scene that involves an argument between Dan Banbury and John May over paint, an African parrot and a murder on a restaurant staircase. I dont know if it will reach the second draft yet, its a bit mad. The []

The Lockdown Diaries: Breathe In, Breathe Out

1. The Joy Of Illness Im wary about the oversharing. To my mind Vivienne Haig-Wood could have just listened to her husbands poems and gone to bed with a hot water bottle. To lower the paywall of the conscious mind and admit something serious to a fellow being is to impose upon them, however slightly. []