INTERESTING TIMES 15: HENDRIX IS DEAD

By Andrew Maben

I regained consciousness to find the sky still that limpid blue, and to the smell of the dew-damp grass soft beneath my back. I was lying half-in, half-out of the van, which teetered gently, the edge of the roof poised precariously inches above my waist, threatening to bisect me should the van seek stability on its side…

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INTERESTING TIMES 8: SUMMER OF LOVE

By Andrew Maben

So, wait a minute… What, as they sometimes say, was I thinking? What indeed? I suppose that in a certain sense you could say I wasn’t thinking at all, simply living to my utmost, in the hackneyed phrase, “seizing the day”, reacting to events, euphoric with the freedom I imagined I had found, finding a path, pursuing…

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INTERESTING TIMES 5: GROWING UP

By Andrew Maben

It’s probably fair to say that most, if not quite all, the volunteers for the Digby were losers and refugees like me, seeking any escape, even should it prove to be from frying pan to fire. Which it wasn’t. Mr. Curry, the new House-master was progressive, an optimist who appeared to be genuinely concerned for our welfare…

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INTERESTING TIMES 2: SCHOOLDAYS

By Andrew Maben

Idyll of childhood, such as it had been, was about to come to an end, though of course I had no forebodings. One cold, misty, drizzly, January afternoon my father loaded my newly packed trunk and tuckbox into the car and we set off, driving through the bleak winter landscape of the Devon dairy farm country, a journey…

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