Autumn is well and truly here and with it a time for reflection arises. There’s always something to look back on in the colourful history of ones life. The seasons act as prompts for varying periods of

Walking along the footpaths in Upper St Leonards today in what feels like the beginning of summer, despite the longest day of the year having tipped itself over towards the downward run to autumn just a few

First Real Memories: Ibstone 1951-54 My real memories begin when we moved house for the first time. I have a hazy image of the drive away from Bromley in a car packed with luggage, peeping through the

I have often jokingly said that I could write about my life based around the many different places in which I’ve lived. There is nothing wildly glamorous or adventuress about my life, such as travelling the world,

The absence of poetry in oneself denotes a time of incubation. The mystical has rested for a while laying its head down in the green, turf or mud, or sand whichever prompts the weary muse to sleep

*My rental story is all too common, particularly in this current climate. It is a story with a happy ending, preceded by one of the most angst-laden periods of my life. I’ve always been an inveterate mover. 

We may think it’s strange how Life takes us unwittingly down endless diversions. Just when we think we’re all set, on the path, ok where we are, headed in the right direction etc;  or the opposite, forever

I recently spent five days at The Krishnamurti Centre, a non-denominational place of stunning natural beauty and retreat. Founded to celebrate the work of the philosopher, speaker and writer Jiddu Krishnamurti (1895-1986), the centre is located a

Life, with a capital L, has been somewhat chaotic in the past year – as indeed it will have been for many of us. We – as in globally, country-wise, personally – are in a period of