Now if the harvest is over, And the world cold, Give me the bonus of laughter, As I lose hold.

Hymn tunes are the nearest we've got to English folk music.

Ludlow....is probably the loveliest town in England with its hill of Georgian houses ascending from the river Teme to the great tower of the cross-shaped church, rising behind a classic market building.

What the Londoner sees in his mind's eye is that cluster of towers and pinnacles seen from Pentonville Hill and outlined against a foggy sunset, and the great arc of Barlow's train shed gaping to devour incoming engines, and the sudden burst of exuberant Gothic of the hotel seen from gloomy Judd Street.

Now if the harvest is over, And the world cold, Give me the bonus of laughter, As I lose hold.

On out deathbeds we're not going to regret all the work we didn't do. We're going to regret all the sex we didn't have!

Topography is one of my chief themes in my poetry, about the country, the suburbs and the seaside. Then there comes love... and increasingly; the fear of death.