Sun peppers the sea as we step like ghostsdown from the dark gallerieswhere the blood-red line between beauty and terroris sometimes visiblebehind the writing on the wall Disintegrating tree-stumpsmark the ancient quaylong sucked away We, lost children senton a forgotten…
Read: This is not home
I discovered this week that Archant – formerly Eastern Counties Newspapers, where I worked for 30 years – is closing its print works at Thorpe St Andrew, on the fringe of Norwich. This was a bit of a shock, because…
I have broken my arm. Pause for “armless” jokes. Ok. I did it in a car crash that took place conveniently about 700 miles away from my home, on an island. Our car was virtually destroyed and we were stranded…
Those stones you used to dance onby the boathouse at the head of the lochare under water today When the sun shines between showersI see their shapesuspended like gold,floating We shelter behind rough stone wallsfrom the intermittent wind:earlier we balancedlike…
Read: Boathouse stones