Authors Electric

  My dad, Feliks Krzewinski, at work as a display artist in London in 1960 Most people seem to prefer to do this after those concerned have died. Not so easy if your mother lives to 104, like someone I know. However, if you had a good relationship it’s not such a problem – it’s the things you’d like to get off your chest that’s the issue. My parents were elderly, 42 and 49 when I was born, and I was an only child. They both died over 40 years ago. Having a clear-out, I recently discovered a note I wrote after my first trip to Poland to visit my father’s relatives on my own. My mother was English, and after my father died the Polish side cut off all contact. Unbeknownst to me my mother, on her one and only trip abroad, she told my father’s relatives I considered myself to be entirely English, and didn’t want anything whatsoever to do with my Polish heritage. Many years later, out of the blue, I had a call from my cousin who was in the UK for a visit. I cried my eyes out with relie...

The winner of the nationwide school magazine competition, 1960 I have just read Let’s do It: The authorised biography of Victoria Wood , by Jasper Rees. This is a long book, because it details just about everything she ever wrote and performed. And even though I’d heard and seen so much of it before, I still found myself laughing out loud at her extraordinary inventiveness and wit. Her work ethic was phenomenal – she often wrote all night to fulfil a deadline, but she also expected everyone else to be just as dedicated. Her dialogue had to be spoken exactly as she wrote it, no improvising, and she had a go at most forms of writing. She was a terrific musician, and played the trumpet as well as the piano. I think the most autobiographical sketch of all was the one about Chrissy, the 14-year-old schoolgirl who sets out to swim the channel. Her parents are interviewed about the forthcoming ordeal, and it is assumed they will be in the support boat – however, they’re planning on a day out,...

   Lviv Railway Station, an exit to safety for thousands As I am having an operation on my wrist I am writing this post some time in advance, because I won’t be able to type for a while. I thought I would devote it to my memories of Ukraine, as I attended a poetry event at the Ivan Franko University in 2006, and a children’s writing conference in Lviv in 2007.   My father was born not far from Lviv in 1900, and considered Lviv (Lwow as it then was) to be Polish. Ukraine, like Poland, has changed hands many times in the past. However, when it comes to Russia the two countries are 100% united, and recently Poland has been helping Ukraine as much as it can. I was brought up to regard Russia with grave suspicion. I remember at infant school (I must have been six) going up to the teachers for some spellings when we were all writing about what we did at the weekend. The boy in front of me wanted to know how to spell banana. I needed to know how to spell Khrushchev and Bulgani...