
Farmhouse cooking
Gran toils on In the foreman’s house The old black range is always lit Her foreman husband, live in hands With horses plough and reap and sow. Flour comes in half stone sacks Making bread [more…]
Gran toils on In the foreman’s house The old black range is always lit Her foreman husband, live in hands With horses plough and reap and sow. Flour comes in half stone sacks Making bread [more…]
‘LOVE THOU THY LAND’: TENNYSON LOVE thou thy land, with love far-brought From out the storied Past, and used Within the Present, but transfused Thro’ future time by power of thought. True love turn’d round [more…]
I’ve often heard Puffins lament that they would like to contribute articles to our esteemed website but are too daunted. So, I thought I’d share a few tips to encourage more Puffins to pick up [more…]
I’ve never been myself, but I’m prepared to bet that Stalybridge is rather different today from when my uncle described it for the Manchester Evening News in February, 1947 – Jerry F A blizzard was [more…]
‘When the Rudyards cease their Kipling, and the Haggards ride no more…’ was a favoured line in the era of post Imperial breast-beating, when this voluminous and best-selling writer, both in verse and prose was [more…]
All his life Boris had his eyes On winning that most glorious prize, The golden key to Number Ten, The greatest goal of powerful men. A chubby lad at a posh school, His one ambition [more…]
Most of us, if asked, would be able to name a fair number of WW1 poets and writers without too much hesitation. Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, Edmund Blunden, Robert Graves, Rupert Brooke, Isaac Rosenberg – [more…]
‘Was Blake right? What do you think, dear?’ I was a bit nonplussed by this, since we’d been talking about how ever more pricey things had been becoming lately. ‘Blake?…’ ‘Yes, dear: “Milton was of [more…]
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