The character of Clara Dawes; she of one of the dozen novels, all read before I turned sixteen, which most moved me in boyhood, is nut-shelled on this A-level primer site: Clara is wife to Baxter Dawes, whom she could … Read More »
Through the pines. Over the dunes. And onto the beach, the light in constant flux … … an Atlantic north-westerly ripping in relentless. “I’m going out”, said J, pushing through piles of sand outside our bedouin tent. “I may be … Read More »
I spoke in Afloat in the Fens of a brace of pike spotted in a small mere, amid an otherwise banal housing estate on the edge of Thrapston and fed by the Nene. Here they are. Close by, another ambush … Read More »
Thursday. As yesterday I’m at Houghton Mill, now going downstream to St Ives by canoe. Half a mile in, the heat is drowsing. I lie back in the canoe but, camera in lap, tell myself neither heron nor snake shall … Read More »
Note to self: when sleeping overnight in car on industrial estate, avoid tight spaces behind lorry trailers. On Tuesday night I disregarded this elementary advice. Having left the Kings Arms shortly after posting Afloat in the Fens, Google Maps took … Read More »
It’s a scorching afternoon, still and sultry. A minute after putting in at Islip, I disturb a grey heron. It flaps a gawky take off across the river twenty metres ahead. Ten minutes after that I hear a tiny plash … Read More »
Needing spiritual refreshment after two months making repairs to my house in Sheffield (I let it out, and hand over the rent collected to my own landlord) and a recent flurry of posts on Julian Assange, I took the junior … Read More »
See also, Four days in Norfolk. Our cottage for the week in Great Snoring, four miles north-east of Fakenham in the north of one of my favourite counties. Not that we spent much time in it. The cliffs at Winterton … Read More »
It’s the last Thursday of June, the hottest day of the year so far. Patrolling the sky above Barton Broad a pair of common terns glide, hover and swoop for small fry. I’m in the shade of willow and alder, … Read More »
Don’t say ‘earwash’. I’ve penned this ode to not making a fool of yourself around these parts. Yesterday I drove to Toton Fields, bottom right on the map and a mile east of Long Eaton, to let the dogs out. … Read More »