The Failed Flight to Ireland and the Solway Firth
Please note – usually I don’t let anyone see my work until I’ve done several redrafts, particularly fiction, such as the style below. For me, rewriting is the most essential part of … Continue reading
Cavers to the Derwent…Blind Dogs, Ruined Houses, Modern Day Pilgrims and a Crab Trapper
We find St Cuthbert’s Church at Cavers in the morning; around a couple of sloping tracks above the village. Given how many churches have been open so far, a lovely … Continue reading
Sometimes I plunge…
Sometimes I plunge through the press of waves unexpectedly, delving to the earth, the ocean bed. The waters ferment, sea-horses foaming .. The whale-mere roars, fiercely rages, waves beat upon … Continue reading
Of all objects …
Of all objects which I have ever seen, there is none which affects my imagination so much as the sea, or ocean. I cannot see the heavings of this prodigious … Continue reading
From Kelso to Cavers…
Don’t eat the fish and chips in Melrose; greasy, poor quality and badly cooked, and that includes the mushy peas too. It filled a hole but it felt like a … Continue reading
Norham, Flodden and the Reivers…
Norham, supposedly sheltered between the Cheviots to the south and the Lammermuir Hills to the north, where Cuthbert worked as a shepherd boy and saw a vision of Aidan’s soul … Continue reading
St Cuthbert’s Cave
They climbed the hill, exhausted already, but with God giving them strength and the good Abbot Eardred urging them on. There came the seven first, leading along Bishop Eardwulf with … Continue reading
In the Beginning…
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit … Continue reading
A Thank You…
I’m lying on the grass facing late afternoon sunshine, listening to birdsong and grass that rustles in the breeze. Every so often a visitor drives back across the causeway or … Continue reading
The Causeway at Midnight….
This is the first poem I’ve written in years. Usually, if I do write a poem, I turn it into prose, except for all those poems I scribbled on pocket … Continue reading
St Cuthbert's Final Journey 