Captured moments, those to oneself
Rare, most will agree
So they are to cherish when happenstance
Affords soliloquy
Quiet and solitude are such
That to a pensive mind
A moment of contentment is
The rarest gift to find


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On Tulley’s Farm the maize was high
The August sunshine, kind
Just about right for all of us
To laugh, relax, unwind

We raced on the pedal go-karts
Swung on swings, explored the wood
Played giant draughts, watched some goats
Had coffee, ate some food

Then it was time for amazement
And getting lost in meandering ways
As we ventured into the joy that was
Tulley’s giant maize maze

Memories are made from days like this
Of happiness and fun
Captured in some photographs
On a day in August sun




In July when working
It was thirty-five plus
But now August it’s cooler
And I don’t want to fuss
But I could really do with
Some hot summer sun
As I’d like to be browner
When my holiday’s done.


Garden Barber

Our garden’s had a haircut
A tidying up and trim
‘Cos the overgrowth was getting
Out of hand and pretty grim

Now a passion flower curtain hangs
From Mock Orange in the light
Revealing studio window there
Which before was out of sight

Things are changing out there now
And we’re seeing things anew
Same garden, different outlook
More sunlight, better view


The long mile

I walked the long mile under a darkening sky
The sun a warm glow to the west
With my toes in the water of a cool lapping sea
A smile at nature’s behest

The sand, smooth and rippled from an undertow’s pull
Revealed its rich treasure trove
Shells and small pebbles and other such things
Abandoned by the sea’s ebbing flow

The driftwood now sanded and caressed by the sea
Like flotsam on the high tide line
Finds its way in the twilight to my gathering now
Like diamonds, it’s glory, sublime

I walked the long mile as the day turned to night
And the people hid behind their closed doors
Alone with my feelings, I whispered a smile
At one with the sea on the shore

It is my solace, my strength, my enrichment, my gain
Though a soliloquy oft to deaf ears
It is my friend, the long mile, my treasure indeed
As it has been throughout all my years


The ‘Long Mile’ is a stretch of coastline in Sussex extending from the beach on which our beach-hut sits and the small town of Shoreham-by-Sea where we live. At low tide, it’s a joy to walk, particularly at sunset on a summer’s day.

Two words

I don’t know how to come back to you
It’s been such a long time, you see
As I’ve not been living my life for you
But keeping it all back for me.

Yet there are two words that sum it all up
Two words that tell me just how
Two words given to me by you
Two words appropriate now

‘Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound’
Of those two words to me
They say so much of who you are
And how you’ve set me free


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Bought Pink Floyd’s Pulse in ninety-five
A heartbeat flashing red
Fine until a year had passed
And the battery was dead
But the music kept pulsating
Dark Side spurred me on
And I wasn’t all that bothered
That the flashing light had gone
But just the other day on YouTube
I found a video that said
It was easy to change the battery
That had stopped me seeing red
Trouble was, that’s all I saw
When the steps I tried to follow
And found that what the vid had claimed
Was proving hard to swallow
So I’ve given up now with the video
Pulse remains unblinking still
And tho the battery died long ago
Pink Floyd’s music never will


If you want to know a little more about my copy of Pink Floyd’s Pulse, check out this feature on it at



It’s raining outside
(I was hoping for sun)
It’s a bit disappointing
And I’m feeling quite glum
You can see from the picture
What I was expecting
A long lounge in the warmth
With sunbeams reflecting
My green chair is out there
Yet I have no fears
For it’ll still be there waiting
When the sun reappears.


Cream Tea

Had a cream tea at Goring

Down at Sea Lane cafe

Dark clouds threatened a gathering storm

As people hurried out of the way

We just had time to gobble the scones

With jam and clotted cream

Before the rain arrived to quell

The British summer dream



Word camera

I have a new ideas book

The old one’s full up now

Something to carry round with me

Comforting somehow

It’s not unlike a camera

Capturing words I see each day

These pages are my memory card

Recording what I write and say

Digitalisation in reverse

With manual edits done

My words are transferred to the Mac

For more ethereal fun

But there’s the rub, for I have both

A digital one and paper

Original scribbles there to cherish

For every published caper



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