Tag Archives: Birkdale
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
Dogs, logs – and more important things
It was a two walk weekend, after a week of only one. And that one was to the shops. With a brief diversion into the cemetery. Those angels. They need watching over. Something about having strangers working in the house … Continue reading
Blowing in to an old new world
A Strauss waltz dances from the breakfast radio. Outside, the headless firs wave their arms like frenzied violinists in some arboreal orchestra. The tall birches, double basses of the tree world, waver and shiver, constrained by their stature – and … Continue reading
