Twenty years ago, whilst working at Lancaster University I travelled regularly to Ireland. Supported by the Irish Hospice Foundation, I was a Visiting Professor at Trinity College Dublin and University College Dublin, charged with enabling and promoting academic and strategic development in the field of palliative care. Over a four year period I visited manyContinue reading “Cicely and David: screenings in Belfast and Dublin during Palliative Care Week 2025”
Category Archives: Cicely Saunders
February’s charms and alarms
The February man still shakes the snowFrom off his hair and blows his hands (1) For the Romans it was a month of purification. British weather lore declares it brings rain or snow, or both. The Venerable Bede called it the month of cakes. From Brigid to Valentine, many saints are associated with it. TheContinue reading “February’s charms and alarms”
Bedside vigil: from contemporary painting to palliative care
The painting is over two metres high, more than a metre wide, and from the end of the upper room, it’s radiating with bright colours and intriguing forms. I’m looking at a work by artist Gabriella Boyd, in Dumfriesshire’s Cample Line gallery. The image is unmissable, yet I seem drawn to it by contrary feelings.Continue reading “Bedside vigil: from contemporary painting to palliative care”
Cicely y David: my play in Spanish
At the end of a beautiful spring day in Pamplona, northern Spain, I am in a local theatre, waiting for the curtain to come up on Cicely and David, my play about the early origins of modern hospice and palliative care. A niche topic, certainly, but 250 people have come along to this Spanish premiereContinue reading “Cicely y David: my play in Spanish”
Heading Home: a miscellany of writings
In late 2020, on saying goodbye to four decades of work in academia, I resolved to devote time to something that had been bubbling up in my thinking for quite a while: the desire to continue writing, but to do so in a more creative and inventive manner. True, I’d recently written a biography whichContinue reading “Heading Home: a miscellany of writings”
My play reaches the Edinburgh Fringe Festival
The year was 1947. David Tasma was just 40 years old. A Polish migrant who had fled his homeland weeks before the Nazis invaded, he’d spent the war years living on the margins of London life, eventually finding employment in a Kosher restaurant in the West End. When peace came he hoped for better things.Continue reading “My play reaches the Edinburgh Fringe Festival”
Quotidian 