Hyacinthoides non-scripta

April 28th and off we went to the bluebell woods down the road and across the fields Let me tell you, even the cries of an egomaniacal Ruskie with small eyes and an imperfect brain, could not detract from the beauty that a field of bluebells brought. Over the first stile felt like walking into … Read more


It was a dusty day, you know when everything seems shrouded in mist. Soft, as the Irish would say. A pinky sun shone through a thin cloud on crops of dandelions, banks of bluebells, merry go rounds of primroses and crowds of faded daffodils. Our Hastings jaunts have been curtailed by Covid outbreaks, Easter holidays … Read more


I don’t know about you but I dont know what day it is. April is nearly in the middle and my head is full of easter eggs, missed birthdays and Putin. I try not to think about his disgusting antics, I try not to think about Rwanda and our racist government, I try not to … Read more


When I was in my early twenties I worked with Ken Campbell, a man of uncommon intelligence and a genius eye. He wanted me to study ventriloquism. ‘No thanks’ I said. He wanted me to study talking through a dummy and holding the stage. ‘No thanks’ I reiterated. The dummy looked like my father. I … Read more