Category Archives: Liverpool
In the company of twitchers
Solitary men. Mostly. Some in camouflage clothing. Cameras with long lenses. Tripods slung over shoulders. Patient people. Often, it seems to me, not quite sad, but resigned. And a closeness amid the isolation. A willingness to share as they seek … Continue reading
In a muddy field near Liverpool, he lies
It was a 45 minute drive. I pulled on wellies, ready to tromp through mud to take a picture. The least I could do, in the circumstances. I could see no obvious entry point so went to the office labelled … Continue reading
A couple of months in the ups and downs
An old English folk song inspired the title. And to cheer you into this largely pictorial post here it is, sung by Steeleye Span. Those ups and downs are NOT the kind I’m referring to – I’ve never asked a … Continue reading
The Ides of March
Beware, cried the soothsayer. Or was it the East wind? As I sit down to write this post – amid boxes of tiles, plaster dust and paint – I calculate that it’s XIII days before the Kalends of April. I … Continue reading
‘I am half sick of shadows’
She’s forever enigmatic, the Lady of Shalott. A creation of Tennyson, inspired by Arthurian legend, she sits, day and night, weaving a wondrous tapestry. Although within sight of Camelot, her world is confined to reflections in a mirror. If she … Continue reading
There’s a hole in my heart where Mary used to be
Saturday night. The last train home. The station’s bright and light. The sound of squiffy silliness peppers the air. There’s no menace, no riotous shouting. No spitting, or pissing, or – you know – any of those ‘I wish I’d … Continue reading
It’ll all end in lawnmowers
‘I’m sorry,’ says the nice man, as he charges me £60 for a few minutes’ work. To be honest, it was worth it. Not least because it was all my fault. You see, I’ve been a bit irascible the last … Continue reading
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 