Number 7 | General Interest

My Father’s House

Every summer we were ordered out into the garden with machetes to chop down the grass, which grew above our heads. We loathed having to spend summer days in manual labour, but we never dared question our father’s authority.

Dark Man at the Airport

I followed dutifully to a metal table where the men unzipped my suitcase, because they could unzip my suitcase if they wanted, they could search me if they wanted, they could detain me if they wanted.

Francis Plug Attends A John Banville Reading

'I too was drinking, having helped myself to a bottle of white from the complimentary drinks table. I’d placed this bottle on the Current Affairs shelving to the right of my seat.'

Adults

'I’d look up to them looming on street corners, / or down on them at night through my bedroom blinds, / crashing home from the Labour Club, mad drunk. / After a while I decided they must be unhappy.'

Number 7

Memoir and memory. Featuring the incomparable Diana Athill, poetry by Paul Farley, Elna Baker on Mormonism, Saïd Sayrafiezadeh at the airport, Jamie Brisick, Bernardine Evaristo and Paul Ewen.