Memoir
Knighton Wood, by Terry Freedman
It is understandable that an ambitious young man, in his late twenties and early thirties, wanting success in all its various guises, and with a belief in the power of the mind, would be attracted to certain kinds of books, tapes and courses. The young man I’m talking about was, of course, me.
Read MoreTravelling back from my saxophone lesson on Saturday, a very attractive young woman kept looking at me. Did I finally have sax appeal I asked myself.
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Photo by Terry Freedman
Last week, Elaine, a friend of hers (D) and I went to an art gallery. On our return we caught the Overground train at Highbury and Islington, heading towards Stratford….
Read More“This should do it.” My father was responding to my mother’s growing exasperation with the two-year old me constantly getting under her feet in the kitchen.
Read MoreThe curtain goes up, to reveal Terry slaving over a hot keyboard. He turns to the audience….
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