Archive
Author: Alasdair Renwick-Hale
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Twenty Minutes and No Advice
I can still smell the sharp, sterile sting of antiseptic and floor wax from thirty years of walking those hospital corridors. There was a…
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The Conflict Story Is Mostly Nineteenth Century Invention
I remember sitting in a sterile hospital room years ago, watching a young man stare at a monitor that was providing him with more…
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Every Purchase Is a Vote Cast Somewhere
I remember sitting in a sterile hospital room late one Tuesday night, watching a man stare at a mountain of unopened, expensive gadgets he’d…
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Bring Food Before You Bring Advice
I remember sitting in a dimly lit oncology ward in the late nineties, the air thick with the medicinal tang of antiseptic and the…
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Decide the Proportion Once, Not Every Time
I remember sitting in a dim hospital corridor in the late nineties, the air thick with the sterile, metallic scent of antiseptic and old…
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Etymology Is History, Not Definition
I remember sitting in a dimly lit hospital room about fifteen years ago, listening to a young man try to explain his grief through…
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A Word Means What It Means in That Sentence
I remember sitting in the small, dim library of a parish house late one Tuesday, surrounded by the scent of old paper and damp…
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Stewardship Includes What You Will Not See
I remember sitting in a small, drafty hospital chapel years ago, watching a young man struggle with the sheer weight of a world that…
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Programmes Built Around Families Exclude by Default
I remember sitting in a small, drafty parish hall years ago, watching a “community integration” workshop unfold. The facilitator was speaking in those bright,…
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Criticism Produced Better Arguments on Both Sides
I remember sitting in a sterile hospital room late one Tuesday night, listening to a man try to make sense of a terminal diagnosis…