Saul Wordsworth

On US Election night

My head hit the pillow at midnight.

Please let it be Hilary.

The alarm was set for 6am.

Please.

In the morning a Speed Awareness course for my heedless sins.

I woke at 3.30, rose and peered through the blinds. The rain was teeming down, accompanied by a stillness and a silence. The silence was disquieting and foreboding. Preposterous perhaps, fanciful even, but hyperreal to me: I felt a malign presence.

I turned on the radio.

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On The Beatles

Yesterday I saw Eight Days A Week, Ron Howard’s Beatles film (“a timeless tale” – Saul Wordsworth).

Today – and in homage – I have recorded my own version of I’m Only Sleeping from the Revolver album (track three as it goes).

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Much love/many gloves.

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On suffering

According to Buddha life is suffering. All well and good, but has the Big B ever cycled up Alpe D’Huez – or indeed Archway Road – in the blazing sunshine? No? Clearly then he is in no position to pronounce on this grave matter.

Last week I participated in the annual Prudential RideLondon cycle event.

I suffered as I’ve never suffered before.

This is my story.

*insert original score by John Williams*

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On promoting your book

Books, eh? So many published, so few read. Trying to get noticed is the name of the game (I should know, I’ve played it. Let’s call it a draw to date).

All will be explained shortly, but here’s a picture of my dad hard at work in our sitting room in 1986.

dad in chair

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On becoming a published author

Long time no weblog.

Wotcha.

Some reflections on entering the world of the published writer – by Saul Wordsworth of Wordsworth Writing Ink (geddit?)

IMG_1312

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On my dad at 100

Well helleur.

Happy New Year and that.

This is a short blog about my dad, who would have been 100 on Boxing Day.

dad and i edited 2

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On cycling round Regent’s Park

Every Saturday at 6.45am the Muswell Hill Peloton congregates outside the bike shop on Fortis Green Road. From there we launch ourselves up into Highgate and down through Hampstead before thundering by Swiss Cottage and breaching the perimeter of Regent’s Park. Here we assemble to embark upon 6 and 3/4 laps of the royal park, culminating in a ferocious sprint for victory. This ride – and group of riders – has changed my life.

MHP3.jpg

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On being Alan Stoob

Hello.

I am Alan Stoob.

Perhaps you knew this already.

Perhaps you didn’t.

Perhaps you’ve no idea what I’m talking about.

Alan Stoob is a website, a Twitter account, a book and (if the planets align) a film.

I have kept my name hidden for three years but on the eve of publication and with Stoob’s cover already blown I’m officially outing myself.

Alan is Britain’s Premier Nazi Hunterâ„¢.

This is the story of Alan.

NHA Close Up

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On an encounter with Princess Anne

Yesterday I spent two hours looking for a photograph of me with the aforementioned Princess. Couldn’t find it. That’s two hours I’ll never get back. Could have watched two and a bit Houses of Cards or run a marathon.

I did find this though. Favourite picture from my childhood.

saul and bro cigar

But you’re here now, so I may as well tell the Princess Anne story.

*gets comfortable in Ronnie Corbett chair, adjusts glasses…*

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On drinking with an Irishman

Recently I spent a week writing on the west coast of Ireland.

One evening I drove three miles to the nearest pub and ordered pint a Guinness.

What follows are the words I exchanged with a burly local in possession of a strong Irish brogue and an overpowering handshake.

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