England

  A handwritten sign  and some bottles, professionally labelled, are the only publicity that Andy and Diane want. At first he said he didn’t like the idea of being written about, but after a little persuasion they both agreed to talk to me. I asked for a tasting and recommendations. “Try the dandelion wine. It’s […] Read more

            Adlestrop, by Edward Thomas   Yes. I remember Adlestrop— The name, because one afternoon Of heat the express-train drew up there Unwontedly. It was late June.   The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left and no one came On the bare platform. What I saw Was […] Read more

                                  That an Englishman’s home is his castle is an argument often summoned  to explain or justify the right to do as one likes within  domestic boundaries- and if need be to defend these with all possible means at […] Read more

He never said it  but I can imagine  Newsnight’s Jeremy Paxman  curling his lip  at the very thought of the current throwaway tag, “British Values”. “British Values” he would have sneered,  instantly curdling the milk in your tea, “what on earth do you mean by that? It’s rubbish isn’t it?” The Times columnist Jenni Russell: […] Read more

Twenty Years Back… This has been one of those mythical summers, when bees get drunk on obscenely gorgeous roses and honeysuckle, when Panama hats and straw boaters are essential wardrobe items, when proper thirst assumes reality, when grass shrivels and sun burns blisters on the skin. In June Wimbledon recorded 112F (surely not- must be […] Read more

I have become like Miss Betsy Trotwood. “Let me see you ride a donkey over my green again, and I’ll knock your bonnet off. And tread upon it!” A short time ago- at 12.30 am to be precise- I heard suspicious sounds on the street as I sat at my desk. I raised the sash […] Read more

Port Meadow is where I used to pick bushelfuls of mushrooms for breakfast in the Autumn- you just have to get there at 5 am before the other foragers. Horses in the milky mist, round white buttons under cowpats,  a heron sillhouetted against a thumbprint of moon, the ghost of the airman skirting the ancient […] Read more

Evening Breezes, softly sighing Bid the sun farewell. Time is flying day is dying Rings the vesper bell. Peace and calm with night descending Stilling every sound, Shadows with the darkness blending Wrap the world around, wrap the world around. (Franz Schubert, after Silbert)               […] Read more

He came in an immaculate van, opening up the back with a flourish and revealing the elaborate array of brushes, rods and cleaning materials, all laid out in symmetrical order. Even though his name was not Mr Soot (of Happy Families) it was fitting enough.   He wore blue plastic overshoes, laid a black cloth […] Read more