Writing For Joy

We once had a dog called jess. I loved Jess dearly and, in her doggy way, she loved me. You can imagine the distress she caused when she wen...

Bob Taylor, (ex Yorkshire miner) author of that wonderful little book, The Primrose Path and other poems, has revealed just how talented he ...

A lovely morning: bright sun, blue sky with fluffy white and dark grey clouds, chill wind but invigorating. We took a footpath up hills and ...

We walk for exercise and usually choose the footpaths in our own area to avoid travel by car. It was a habit we fell into by virtue of bein...

"Do you remember?" Frequently — no! I stand (or sit) trying to drag up the word, or message, from my cranial filing system, but no...

I'm a fairly easy-going sort of person. Sure I get angry about things, but unless it is something that drops out of the blue, I rarely g...

So now the birds sing in the morning and some are gathering twigs to build their nests. Poor things — gales are forecast and, although the s...