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Remember
For by my glee might many men have laughed, And of my weeping something had been left, Which must die now. I mean the truth untold, The pity of war, the pity war distilled. Strange Meeting, Wilfred Owen For the past week we have been asked to remember: Remember, Remember the fifth of November Gunpowder…
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Roaming Round Romsey
I’ve been trying to create a montage of the glorious stone cats of Romsey Abbey, but no matter what I do with it, I can only get half of them into the featured image at the top of the page, so here they are in their full glory. They leave me wondering whether the stone mason(s) working…
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The Imposter
Another Genealogy letter: My partner’s maternal Grandfather is a bit of an enigma: He vanished, apparently without trace, leaving his wife with three young children. The children suffered a great deal as a result, their mother took them back to live with her parents, but as the progeny of a broken home, they were shunned…
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The Arsonist’s Demise
National Short Story Week is coming to a close, and with it all my good intentions to do some writing in honour of the event. Having a house full of builders isn’t conducive to creativity, even when they are charming, careful and considerate, which they are. I did however make it to Spread the Word’s…
Cherry Potts, Writer 