Martin Kirby

Martin Kirby

HEADING FOR THE HILLS

Dear Seven

Well, that could not have been less magnificent. Glaring truth collided with dereliction, again, this time on a beach in Cornwall, England. But you did a wonderful job of looking as if you were having...

HEADING FOR THE HILLS

The art of friendship

What can we do for Pere? Touching elbows just doesn’t cut it.The 80-year-old blacksmith, mop of grey curly hair, flat lip from pipe-smoking, easy smile and gentle nature, has gifted us more of his metal...

HEADING FOR THE HILLS

Who needs EXPERTS?

Six years ago I was emerging slowly from the fog and anxiety of the darkest of drug trips. A cocktail of morphine and other mind-boggling medications had my brain doing loop the loop, cartwheels and the...

HEADING FOR THE HILLS

Breathing

I saw and stack logs on the dry stone wall. When will the music begin? The sun will rise soon. Then he is there, behind me, on the dead branches of a walnut tree strangled by ivy. The song thrush fills...

HEADING FOR THE HILLS

20years at home

January 19, 2001 (2am)Twenty years ago we bounced up the track to this farmhouse. Our new home. It was pitch black and bitterly cold. But we could not have been happier. Life had just changed beyond our...

HEADING FOR THE HILLS

Heartache

I appreciate the way some Catalan friends possess, in their succinct English, the gift of getting to the nub of a matter.“If your body is making a noise,” says our doctor Marta, glad of the opportunity...

HEADING FOR THE HILLS

Lynx

When it comes home again for good (it may still be absent but remains deep in the DNA of this wild, wonderful country) I will rejoice.When, not if.The lynx, such a scarce, stunning creature, is emblematic...

HEADING FOR THE HILLS

Frida

Thank you Frida.Your self-effacing, sweeping memoir of living on a continent sliding towards disaster offers an engaging and at the same time shuddering perspective on the human condition and the ever-present...

HEADING FOR THE HILLS

Keeping quiet

I dig in the garden with my partner. At dusk we wander the farm. Sometimes we talk. We ache with age and labour, but we press on, gladly. We have a lot to do, much to plant and a great many things to abstain...