September 2012

Somewhere else

A narrow Devon lane with hedges so high that they almost meet overhead leads from our rented cottage to the harbour, which consists of an ageing stone wall, a couple of rough ramps and a stream that flows under the…

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A bluebell has flowered on my parents’ grave cradled by a caressing sun and guarded by squirrels Now I know that you are still alive I can rest easy: even the naked torsos and shiny beer cans of oblivious passers-by…

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