In May 2025 a BBC2 programme showed a venue called SantaClaus Village in Rovaneimi, Northern Finland, on the Arctic Circle, where tourists could visit Father Christmas all the year round and meet his attendant elves. The unusual thing about this theme park – it’s built over a huge military bunker, where Finnish citizens can take shelter should war break out. Since Finland joined NATO in 2023 there’s been an increase in Russian military activity on the Finnish border. During the TV programme a selection of Finnish soldiers were interviewed, all of whom showed determination to defend their country if needed.
The programme stirred memories of Mr K, an elusive Finn who married my mother at a Devon registry office just before WW2. Did she wear her special Finnish skirt, a present from Mr K? There are no wedding photos. My mother lived in a house overlooking a beach, next to a hotel then famous for its sprung ballroom floor.
Both of them enjoyed dancing the tango. I hope they had time to dance together before Mr K went back to Finland, where he later fought in the Winter War, in temperatures sometimes of -40 degrees, defending the Finnish border against invading Soviets. In the spring of 1940 he became a Snow Ghost. These bare outlines are part of a slow work in progress in graphic form. Only a few (water stained) letters from Mr K to my mother still exist.
Not far from
I saw neither the monkeys nor talking parrots before it was transformed into a cafe, but years ago was intrigued by the shop’s upstairs section. It was up a narrow staircase, and had a sign saying children must be accompanied by adults. A pale, bald man was in charge there. There were huge African snails and a deep freeze holding an assortment of shrink-wrapped piglets. ‘To feed snakes,’ he explained. He told me a young man had tried to steal a large tarantula, concealing it under his coat, but didn’t make it downstairs. ‘The tarantula’s hairy legs can cause a skin reaction.’ he said, ‘the thief started wriggling and dropped the spider before he made his escape.’ The tarantula was unhurt and unfazed apparently. Although how can you gauge a giant spider’s mood?
The drawing is from one of my 
I had ambitions to travel, preferably into space. My grandmother had a radio she hardly ever used, under a table in her dimly-lit drawing room. I was about seven when I discovered it, and being extremely small for my age, could easily slide under the table, transforming its dark and dusty underbelly into a cabin of possibilities. 
By turning one of its knobs, the radio would gently began to hum. A faint golden glow suffused the dial, illuminating the words Prague, Vienna, Moscow, Lille, Vatican City. By twisting another grooved knob, a quivering needle on the dial veered jerkily through space and time. 
When pressing my face into the coarse and dusty fabric covering the radio’s speaker, I was able to listen to the soft babble of mysterious languages, and felt an impatient curiosity to visit these remote locations full of strangers. Might they belong to far away planets?
And more 
Years ago I worked part-time at a 
My Saturday task was to cash up the takings, put them into a leather satchel and post it into the night safe on the wall of the next door bank. Another member of staff was supposed to come with me and watch my back as I deposited the satchel, but didn’t that night for some reason. Camden can be a lively location, especially on a Saturday night.
Suddenly I felt what seemed like a gun stuck in my back. ‘Hand over the bag!’ said a gruff voice behind me. I was a bit tired after a long day dealing with occasionally awkward customers, so I whirled round and swore (rather inventively I believe) at the would-be robber. ‘Hey!’ he said, backing away, ‘Only a joke!’ and ran off. I was furious but shaken. My slightly battered cardboard cut-out of 
Page from one of my many 
This week I was invited to an extraordinary pantomime performed by the 
My only contribution to the event, apart from being an enthusiastic audience member, was carrying two giant toadstools from the theatre back to the 
One of my slowly evolving pinboards whose objects all have a story to tell. Objects include …
It’s not as if I usually wear my Hat of Surprise, but this hat is sometimes an important part of one of my many comic strip workshops, including those at 
Why this style of hat? It has associations with magicians, a hat that conceals, then transforms or reveals. My events enable participants to increase their creative powers, develop personal confidence and even have fun. Check out my 
One day earlier this year I got into conversation with a neighbour down the road busily working on a rather cool looking electric blue MG Midget. ‘Oh it’s you who makes all that racket revving and driving up and down the street!’ I said. It turned out my neighbour, when not lovingly restoring a Vespa or a classic car or two, is a 
There’s another connection to Little Tich. In 2019 I was fortunate enough 