It's been so hard. A lifetime of books gathered over more years than I want to admit, but it had to be done. I didn't count the number of books I sent to be re-homed, but suffice to say the British Heart Foundation collection driver knows my registered number off by heart. Which to keep… Continue reading The Book Cull
Every time I go to Scarborough I think if only Jane and I had visited the week before we’d have seen The Beatles in their heyday performing live at The Futurist, but we went the week after so we missed them. It was a painful mistake as we could have gone the week before if we’d… Continue reading Scarborough back in the days of “Love, love me do…”
‘As I said to Maisie, I just love a splash of red, soooo New York don’t you think?’ ‘What did she say?’ ‘She looked at me, raised an eyebrow and said “A long-lost love once told me I looked unbeatable in black and I’ve worn nothing but black since”.’ ‘Now you mention it Maisie does… Continue reading A Splash of Red – a fictional flight of fancy.
Where the sea meets the land at Stromness, opposite The Old Man of Hoy, rocks of a multitude of brown shades dip drunkenly into the sea. Flat layered slabs rest one upon the other forming groynes like tongues stretching out to drink. These are ancient geological groynes, not man made. No candy floss, ice creams or deckchairs… Continue reading Thoughts on Stromness beach, Orkney.