19th Century
A Bear’s Diary – Part 4
September 19th, 1808, Lisbon. We are in port at last, and I am glad to have my paws on the ground. It was a difficult passage out of the Channel, and we had to tack [more…]
Fiction
19th Century
A Bear’s Diary – Part 3
June 12th, 1808. I take up my pen again in London, where Jem and I have arrived after our hasty departure from Cambridge. It is quite understandable that Jem, unpaid by his lordship for more [more…]
19th Century
A Bear’s Diary – Part 2
March 6th, 1807. George is off to Italy, where I am sure he will have a capital time ogling churches and whores, and buying paintings that might be by Salvator Rosa but are probably not. [more…]
19th Century
A Bear’s Diary – Part 1
Cambridge, Novr. 6th, 1805. I did not dance well at the Bonfire Night show on Midsummer Common. Afterwards, Fred said to me, ‘Daisy, me ole dear. Yer knows and I knows yer gettin’ a bit [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Ninety One
What they were asking… but hadn’t he already crossed the line? That’s why they’d revealed themselves to him, reckoned he was already there. George was, he knew, would sign up in a flash, possibly some [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Ninety
WEDNESDAY, THIRD MORNING AFTER EASTER He’d left the smuggling party behind on the way down to the valley, racing despite his heavy load, dawn was just arriving, a grey cloudy day, typical West Country [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Eighty Nine
The Turk was almost ecstatic, after all the set-backs, the doubts, only nine-eleven put this in the shade, and this was somehow more personal, more intimate, a stab at the heart of a major western [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Eighty Eight
The emergency sub-committee were all back in the main room: the ceasefire at Broadcasting House was over two hours old now and disparate reports were starting to be assimilated, an incomplete but increasingly coherent picture [more…]
Fiction
The Unseen Path – Part Eighty Seven
Why had he said that, the flood of relief perhaps at this unexpected, nay miraculous, escape from his impetuous stupidity? The man’s wife, a barely repressed desire to tell him she was safe? “I’ll report [more…]