Tag Archives: Ainsdale beach
How nice to see you! Come on in, the kettle’s on
I’ll get the tray. Piece of cake to go with your tea? Go on, sticky malt loaf cake, it’s yummy. When was it we met for that meal in Krakow? Before the pandemic? No! Has it really been that … Continue reading
Fancy a ramble?
I know. No more blogging I said. Well, this is the exception that proves the rule. And it’s a long one. So, make a pot of tea or coffee, cut a slice of cake – whatever you fancy – and … Continue reading
Boum!
No armchair for God today. Not even a paltry cushion. No, I’m not having visions, I’m singing – in my head. It’s an old song by the French singer, Charles Trenet, in which this line appears: ‘Et le bon Dieu … Continue reading
Hidden. Easter Sunday mirages at the beach
A skylark rises, invisible, like the gentle, irregular whistle of a barely boiling kettle, singing on the hob. A good day to be a skylark. The merlins and sparrowhawks will be flummoxed by the clammy sea-mist that’s swirling in the … Continue reading
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 