Storm Diary 10 – Business

Storm Diary 10 – Business Sunday 15th March 2020 British. Business as usual. I check to see whether Non-Sick Sprog’s football match is still on. It is. We’re British, so why wouldn’t it be? Does a kids’ footy match count as a petri dish? Probably not. Lots of shouting and running around in the open…

Static in North Wales – Thursday

Jay Cool’s Hubby shares his impressions of Wales, in a series of daily letters to his work colleagues (now, with permission granted, shared with the world)! Thursday – Snowdon This is what it’s all about – Man against the elements. On a clear day you can see a The Isle of Man. Sadly, today is…

Savvy Poem – Towyn Trailer

  Towing my brain into Towyn, aiming for something static to keep my thoughts from lagging behind my actions, from drifting off and taking on a form of their own   or, worse, from sprinting on ahead of my slowing feet, I take the long road, slicing a cuboid city into two identical halves, my…

Resignation

  A sign. May offers to resign. But, only if MPs accept her design. May’s not a loss, but why toe the line, if to give her the toss, we’ll swap her for twine?   Even if Donald has excellent thighs, why tie up our produce in a tangle of lies?   Copyright owned by…

The Pebbles on the Beach: Book Review

I do not receive commission for any links to Amazon. Pebbles. A book titled ‘The Pebbles on the Beach’ might not an the obvious choice for a can’t-put-down read. But, having been picked up, it had to be bought. And what drew an inlander from the sandstone caves of Shropshire, into a book about Britain’s…

It’s time to guide our daughter, and our grandchild, home …

Indeed it is ‘heart-breaking’. Populist British newspapers have lost sight of the fact that Shamima Begum was a child when she made the decision to join ISIS. British children are not allowed to vote until the age of 18, are not allowed to marry (without parental permission) until 18, and cannot leave the institution of…

The Geography of Myself

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com Myself has migrated, leaving hints of itself, in old towns and locations, where it used to be. In the dirt floor of a sandstone cave, in the soil of a grandfather’s vegetable garden, in the cracks of a concrete driveway, in the drains of a tarmacked road, and in the corners…

A Bod with a Mish-Mash that’s Wrong

{Insanity given sanction by a reading of Edwards Lear’s poem ‘The Dong with a Luminous Nose’.} ‘Spheres’ image from Pixabay.com When my body does shake and my mish-mash goes pong Under the boxes of ticks and the strain, I take to the pen and I scribble all day ’bout the thoughts that take over my…