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Category Archives: Lancashire & the golf coast
Bombs, war and death-bringers. Another great day out.
Once upon a time, I worked for a magazine that spelt ‘defence’ ‘defense’. It was one of three magazines in the stable of an American specialist publisher and I was, for a while, the nearest thing they had to a … Continue reading
Nature, contrary to mine
I don’t do poetry. I’ve tried before, look back on it and cringe. So why? Well, it was a challenge – and a form I’d never heard of – Tanka. ‘Does anyone not love Haiku,’ ran the intro. Um, I … Continue reading
You can’t have one without the other. Nature, damn it!
The trees are dancing but the day is bright, at last. It’s August, still, but the chill in the air has made itself at home, too soon for holidaying humans. In the green world beyond our fences, though, nature continues … Continue reading
Golf. Just when I’d begun to …
I won’t say accept it, that would be silly – what difference would that make to anything (or anyone)? Tolerate it, perhaps? No, it was a smidge more positive than that – but anyway. A few days ago I opened … Continue reading
Posted in Britain now & then, Lancashire & the golf coast
Tagged bike rides, flowers, golf, Harrods, IRA, London, rag and bone man, Royal Birkdale, sea, Southport, Women's Open
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How my prejudices are suffering a setback, plus, probing some great (an exaggeration) unknowns
It’s discombobulating living here. It’s not just the things I don’t know, it’s the things I didn’t know I don’t know. First, there’s the golf. I don’t like golf on principle. Bunch of men getting together and perpetuating their networks … Continue reading
Windows in the rain
Clickety-click clickety-click clickety-click. A six-carriage train, like a long yellow caterpillar, glides through the distant gorse, appears briefly, then disappears into the trees. We’re sitting on top of a big dune here, hence the stands of golden gorse and pine … Continue reading
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