Bog Myrtle & Peat

They let you open the windows on the train from Dumfries to Carlisle, and some of them don’t shut anyway. So you can really hear the engine as it hauls out from the station, and the town soon lags behind you. Then there are birch trees and ancient peatlands crouched like trifle towards Criffel and… Continue reading

It was cold and I was lonely on the day I went to Strata Florida, and I couldn’t believe it would take so long to get there. The visitor centre was shut for the winter, and mine was the only car parked by the entry to the ruins of the old cathedral. I got out,… Continue reading

Once you’ve driven through the business end of Braunton, the old village opens up like a parcel. It’s beautiful on a warm day in July when the willows weep and swifts scream above the crackling thatch. In a pool beneath a stone-topped bridge, brown trout lie between trailing strands of weed. They’re not going anywhere,… Continue reading

Following a recommendation from a friend, I read Patrick Kavanagh’s novel Tarry Flynn in 2019. I’d never heard of Kavanagh, but from Tarry Flynn, I assumed the man was a novelist. Then I learned that he was a poet, and afterwards I began to understand how his work fitted alongside other Irish writers. But I… Continue reading

Peregrines called from the golden finials of St Paul’s Cathedral, then one appeared to coast around the haughty heights. In the rush for Evensong, the birds were a welcome distraction from the immediacy of a queue. I was checked by security as the service bell rang; people wanted to see inside my bag, and the… Continue reading

Photographs of Joensuu in the old days make it look like the Wild West. There are steam engines, water towers and a sawmill which is bound together with strengthened canvas straps. The river is a mess of limbless timber, and horses haul beams of wood back and forth along it. A few people show up… Continue reading

A leveret lived in the yard beneath a trailer. I watched it grow from the size and shape of an apple, gathering weight and wariness during the dry weeks of early July. I have no evidence to suggest it was one sex or another, and since hares have often been held to switch between male… Continue reading

It was a hot night in the village hall at Moniaive. The seats were squeaky, and the audience filled with familiar faces as Tom Pow took the stage to perform The Village and the Road. I’d already seen the show in New Galloway, but it’s a great piece of theatre and I would’ve travelled twice… Continue reading

If you didn’t see how a buck casts his winter coat and picks up the rich rust red of summer, you could believe that the year belonged to two different creatures. There’s nothing hidden or magical about the change which comes over roe deer in May. It’s gradual, and dull grey pins endure on summer… Continue reading

It was a bright and striking night on the grandstand at Dundalk, but a cool wind blew as the clock turned towards the first race at 19:50. I went back to the car for my coat, but while a few people came out to watch the greyhounds race, most preferred to follow the action on… Continue reading