I walked with you today among the graves
Who says graves are not beautiful?
In them lie the most noble souls
And rascals too
Each with their own beauty
Underneath our feet the frozen grass
Crackling as we walk
Like the crackling flames of love
Do we ever forget to love
Our hearts dance in the frozen forest
To the tune of the Universe
Lithesome and free
On the dancing breeze


Today when we arrived at the little church we were confronted by a wheelie bin!  Well yes, I know that the council men have to empty wheelie bins, but just not at a tiny isolated church where no one goes at the moment because it is locked!

So, WHO was there, to make rubbish, and who was there to put the wheelie bin out?  Hmmm.  Mystery!
It reminded me of when; we lived in London, and we went past the famous Highgate Cemetery, and there were LOADS of milk bottles outside the gates for the milkman to pick up.  Who were they from?  Were there some very active ghosts in there?  Did they drink lots of cups of tea.  Who knows?  We never found out!
I have a feeling that we will never find out about the wheelie bin of today.  But hubby went up to the gate today to read the notice that was on the gate, and it said that by order of the government this church was closed.  That just gave me a horrible feeling.  Yet I know it has to be that way.  It just feels awful though.  So many lovely  things had happened to me inside that church, over the years.  People I have met, things that have happened.  It has a very special place in my heart and  a special meaning to me.
I thought of how many many years ago the government of the day would have destroyed that church if they could have, but they didn’t manage to.  The Rood Loft should not be there at all, as the government ordered all Rood Lifts to be taken down.  The King’s men would go to churches and stand by watching, to make sure that the churchwardens were removing all Rood Lofts.  There were heavy penalties for those who did not comply.  So how St. Ediths got away with it, no one knows.
I just find it all very poignant at the moment, now that the government has ordered ALL churches to be closed.
Fortunately, as you can probably see from the photograph that I posted earlier, there isa lovely grassy area outside the church, where there isa wooden seat that you can sit on.  I intend to go and sit on it sometime.
So that was our visit today. Can anyone solve the mystery for me please?  Who put the wheelie bin out?



Last year or maybe it was the year before, I told you about the little church that I discovered in 2009 just after we moved back to my home county of Lincolnshire, from Derbyshire.  It has an amazing history, and is an amazing place to go.  It is only a very very tiny stone church, built in the  900s and indeed it only takes about 40 steps to walk from the back to the front of it.  It is situated in a very very isolated spot, off the beaten track, such that you  would have to know where it was in order to find it.  Many people would not even know of its existence.  It is literally situated in a farmyard!   I have posted a photograph of it, taken two days ago when we visited it, after our  government eased the lockdown a bit, making it so that we can drive as far as we want as long as we remain socially distanced and go home at nights.

It was so wonderful to go back there again.  But we could not go inside it, as all churches have to remain locked at the moment.  When I first started posting about this little church, I intended to tell you more about it and its amazing history, and about my escapades within it, and concerning it.  I hope to take that up again now, as we intend to go back there each day if we can, even though we can only sit outside it in the car.

It is a very beautiful place, and I just love to sit there meditating and enjoying the birdsong.  But it felt really horrible when we returned, to know that the door was now locked, and that no longer could I go in there.

Inside the church is an eternal light stand, which I purchased off eBay to give to the church, representing the eternal light that is always with us.  It is an antique one, and people can light candles and place them on it in memory of someone, or for any other reason.  I wrote my first poetry book inside that church, and I called the book “Eternal Light.”  That was because I believed that there always IS light somewhere, even in the deepest darkness.  Imperceptible maybe, but it is always there.  The church itself is very very dark inside, but up on the Rood Loft, which is one of the few surviving ones in our country, since they were all destroyed at the Reformation, is a painting of the Virgin Mary.  Although she has virtually faded away now, her halo still shines out into the darkness of the church.  If you actually go up the tiny winding steep narrow stairs into the Rood Loft, you can still see the painting of the Virgin Mary, and her face, but it is feint.

Although I do not go to that Church for any Services, I still like to go there just to sit.   In fact it is an hor’s drive away from our house, but it will become our destination most days now on our afternoons out.  I will tell you more stories about it as time goes on.  I hope you enjoy looking at the picture.

Here is the link to my first posting about the little church



Just apologies because I have not got around to as many of your Blogs as I would,like to have.  I am finding it more and more difficult to get around on WordPress.  I  am really sorry, as I really want to get around.  I am also finding reading much harder than I did.  I do apologise.  I will attempt to do better.  I love all of your Blogs.  Bear with me if you can. Xx


I reach for eternity
Behind closed doors
“NO ENTRY” signs
I push on doors that refuse to open
Closed by society
I push on the door to my soul
It is not closed
No one can bar entry into my soul
Within my soul I find light
Shining in the darkness
Celestial light
Without which I would die
But here I am
ALIVE with the light of life
And eternity




There is nothing between us now
I am at the edge
Looking in
And suddenly
I am there, part of the picture
But All One
As the sunset enters my soul
No longer a picture
But part of me
I part of it
And in this moment
I know


When the world talks
There is a loud clanging
Of emptiness
Disguised as fullness
Leaving me hungry
I crave that which satisfies the soul’s longing
Which can only be found in solitude
Take me to the wild places
Oh wind
Where I can be alone with my soul
Where I can eat and drink
Of Nature’s fullness
Let the wild wind laugh
And let me laugh with it
Let us roll around in joy
Dancing with the clouds
Until the sun sets
And night comes
Then let us rest in peace
In the arms of the dark


Blackbirds are black
Violets are purple
I will wear purple today
Edged with black
Singing a melancholy song
On my darkened path
Pausing by the wooden seat
Where once you showed me bright flowers
Wild with delight
Waving in the breeze
And now you wave goodbye
With the same wildness
Mad as ever you were
But brightly coloured
Today I will wear purple like the violet
Giving fragrance by the wooden seat
Edged with black
Fragrance of death

Sent from my iPad


When the going is rough
And the rough is in the going
Take me ih tide
To a better place
But first let me ride the waves
Tread on the stones
That sharpen my wit
And strengthen my resolve
And lead me to calmer shores
Where I can eat and enjoy
The fruits of my labour
Lie in the sun
And savour the delights of heaven




Walls close in on me
No way out
Screams rising
“Where’s it all gone?
Where’s it all gone?”
Deep guttural sobs
That can do no good
Escape from my mouth
But there Is no escape for me
It’s gone
Nothing can get it back
Nothing assuage
It’s gone
My life
Another bit stripped away
Fear chokes me






One day the stanleystoppers hadn’t got anything to stop. Everything had been stopped already due to lockdown. Everyone was meant to stay in their own homies, and grabble and babble around not quite knowing what to do or how to spend their timies. They were much more used to spending monies, but there were no shopilodes to go to to spend monies. Well, except foodie shopilodes that was, and places like pharmacies where you could go if you got constipated and needed to get diiarrhoealodes instead. Or if your head started to achies with being lockised up all the time. Or if the governmentie made you sick and you had to get some stomach setllie tabilets.

It was really hard to get to the foodie shopilodes because there were long queuies going righty round the buildingilodes and everyone had to be something called socially distanced. It was orrible. And there was all tapie on the floorie keeping peopliodes socially distanced, and you had to be able to walkie in a straight linie so it was no good going in there if you were drunkie. And most of the stanleystoppers wanted to be drunkie because life was so boring and they could not do their policeman act stoppising peopliodes doing everything that was nice. It was really all orrible. And even if you managed to get into the shopilode there were no boggie rollies. And everyone had sore bums and all the shopilodes ran out of vaseline. No one ever really knew why everyone went bananas on boggie rollies but there was a nasty virus going round but it didn’t give you the shits. But even foodie was in short supply as well, and no one could get their five a day so they had to have none a day and like it.

In time though, things eased off a bit and peopliodes got used to living with the virus and stopped buying up all the boggie rollies once they knew they were not going to get the shits, and things settleised down a bit. Peopilodes got used to the new normal and all went back to being insane, which meant that the stanleystoppers had plenty to do again stoppising peopilodes doing insane things. But they were not very effective because peopliodes had been lockised up for so long that they went really wild, and everyone was flockising everywhere and nobody could keep up with anybody. It became a free for all and the virus decided to bugger off because it couldn’t cope with all these insane peopliodes and everyone then lived happily ever after.



No longer
Can she be whole
Her world is stripped
Bare like the trees in winter
A body
That isn’t a body
Non functioning
In a way
That leaves her alone
And that is the nature of it all
That aloneness is the way
That life is
And all things
Are merely a distraction
From the aloneness that we fear
My friend
Until you know your aloneness
You cannot understand
The nature of all things


They called and cooed

It seemed so lewd

They were not shrewd

In the Springtime


Up in the tree

I them did see

Drama for free

Almost teatime


Up on car roof

Not so aloof

It is the truth

Flapping wingtime


Soon they’ll have chicks

It might be six

Oh what a fix

Busy bigtime


To breathe
To be free
To fly up high
Where the eagles fly
No more to be held down
By the confines of closed minds
That see through a glass darkly eyes
Clouded by the smoke haze that rises
From a fire stoked with misunderstanding


They do it in the air

they do it in the tree

they do it on the roof of the car


all day long

making such a commotion

loud flapping of wings

do they ever stop

no because they are intent

on making egg







Kiss them,
The blind lepers,
Don’t be afraid of them,
For they are not afraid of you,
They crave
Your touch,
Bringing them into the world again,
Make them human once more,
Pierce their darkness
With love


Last night I saw the sun
And knew that it was calling me
It saw me too
Had been waiting
Knowing that this moment would come
It was destined
Long before time began
Even before the world had been born
This place this time
Before all ages this time was waiting
And one day time shall be no more
All will have passed
Even the sun will have gone
But for this moment
The sun is
And it calls me
To the place that was waiting for me

3TC#234. Visitng Prison


Mary sat nervously in the back of the car. But it was an excited kind of nervousness. She was going back to the prison where she had been a PRISONER. Barbara and Gerry had agreed to take her back to visit her newfound friend, Annie.

Mary wasn’t exactly a bad lot. More unfortunate than bad. She had got in with a bad crowd, and unfortunately had not been able to break free. There were many things in life that she didn’t understand. And that was what got her into trouble. In prison though, she had been a prize prisoner. Each day she had to scrub the steps up to the Governor’s office. It was quite a long flight of steps, but each day Mary got them sparkling clean.

Before she went to prison there had been the discussion about what she should tell the other prisoners concerning her crime. Her crime had been a particularly heinous one. It had been decided that she should say that she was in there for shop lifting.

They had to TRAVEL quite a long way to the prison, which was an open one. On the journey, Mary regaled Barbara and Gerry with tales of prison life. Particularly about Annie, who had become her best friend.

“You’ll like Annie,” she said. “She’s nice. She burned her house down with her husband in it.”

Barbara and Gerry had to stifle their shock. What were they letting themselves in for? They had never visited a prison before, and were now wondering what they had let themselves in for. But they had made a DEAL with Mary, and part of the deal was that they would take her to visit Annie.

As they drove up the long drive towards the orison, which just looked rather like a big country mansion, they were greeted with what looked like hundreds of women, all hanging out of windows, waving excitedly and yelling at Mary. Mary waved and yelled back. Everyone was so excited, and Mary was like a big celebrity. It was going to be a big party.

Barbara and Gerry entered the huge room, with Mary, having been searched on the way in. And there was Annie, sitting waiting at a table for Mary. And Annie WAS nice!

Mary began pointing people out to Barbara and Gerry.

“She killed her father,” Mary said of one woman.

“She killed her step mother,” Mary said of another.

And so it went on. Everyone in there was a killer of some kind. And every one of them was “ever so nice.”

And so it was.

#FOWC. Legacy

FOWC with Fandango — Legacy

Society had got back to normal after the onslaught of the coronavirus. Well, the “new normal.” There had been viruses before. Many of them. All killers. The Black Death, the Spanish flu, SARS, MERS. But none of them had done what the coronavirus did. Separating people from people, family members from family members. Some had had new babies, but family members had not been able to come and cuddle the new baby. Everyone lived in glorious isolation.

“Stay Home,” “Two metres apart,” “Stay Alert,” had been the slogans. Masks hiding people’s faces had become the norm. No touching. No hugging. No contact. People had become afraid of each other. Everyone whom you met could be a potential killer. People all viewed each other with suspicion. Gone for ever was the human touch. The love that made the world go round.

This was the LEGACY of the coronavirus. The destruction of human society as formerly known.



Lou was never really interested in the MEDIA. In fact she hardly knew what the word meant. Until lockdown that was. Then she saw the word everywhere. The media got blamed for everything….along with the government. Lou decided that she wouldn’t like to be a member of either. This damned coronavirus thing had a lot to answer for.

It had become a COLD world now. Or at least that was how it felt. No touch allowed. No hugging. No meeting of even family members. Lou’s mum had died not long before coronavirus arrived, and Liz, her sister now lived alone with her mother’s ashes. They started out on the mantlepiece, but then migrated to Liz’s bed. They were all she had to hug at nights.

Occasionally Lou was able to catch sight of Liz as she delivered one or two essential items and placed them on the doorstep. Bleach, and chocolate. No, Lou could not do without her chocolate. Certainly not in this climate.

One day, Lou saw Liz looking up at her forlornly from the driveway, her mouth and nose covered in a flimsy scarf. She had very obviously lost weight. They managed to shout one or two things to each other. Lou from her bedroom window, Liz in the driveway.

“I wish mum was still here,” Liz shouted, almost crying.

Lou could hardly bear it. She too was feeling the loss of her mother. Unable to contain herself any longer, she flew down the stairs, and out onto the drive, where she gave Liz a big hug. They could hardly let go of each other. Despite what the government had said, they went their own WAY.


Sam looked at the hair clippers. Should he have a number four or a number two? He hadn’t had a proper hair cut for months. No one had. Only those who had hair clippers looked anything like decent. Some had had a go at chopping their hair with the scissors, but ended up with something that looked like a map of the world on their heads.

It was worse for the women. All of them had a line across their very long hair, where one world had ended and a new one had begun. The phrase “dumb blonde” meant nothing now. As did “I had a blonde moment.”

Sam thought hard before setting the hair clippers. It was the most important decision he had had to make in a long time. Apart from the one about getting out of bed in a morning and shoving some breakfast down his throat. Many mornings he struggled to leave his bed. There wasn’t really much to live for nowadays. Even his garden had lost its allure and was even more untidy than he was. It could do with a good haircut too. But what was the point? Maybe he should turn it into a vegetable garden, he thought to himself. But then there are only so many vegetables that you can eat.

Sam’s hair had gone white by now. What would a number two in bright white look like? Hmmm. Not very good maybe.

He took the hair clippers and shaved the whole damned lot off. As he did so, the weight of the world seemed to fall off his shoulders.

“I should have done that a long time ago,” he thought.


Jemima got her shoes wet. She didn’t know where she’d been. But her shoes were wet, the leather all soggy. She didn’t care much. She didn’t care about anything these days, life held no interest for her.

She used to have a good life. Before the deluge that was. Before the stars fell and the moon froze. She had friends then. People to talk to. Connection. Life mirrored back at her her own success. She knew who she was but now……..now. Nothing. Just a complete nothingness.

Jemima looked at her shoes. Why did she need shoes? Why did she need anything for that matter? It was just her and the Universe now.

The deluge had been a long time ago. Life had changed beyond recognition then. People wandered round in a dream. Disconnected. Like zombies.

It hadn’t been too bad at first. After the deluge. People walking, jogging, cycling. You fell over them all over the place. You weren’t meant to but you did. It was bad that. You weren’t meant to touch each other. The deluge had seen to that, set people apart from each other. Friends, families. People even died alone, with no human touch. But people still managed to jog, and cycle, as if their lives depended on it. And they probably did. Some even managed to look happy, in a determined kind of a way. As if their lives depended on it. And they did.

But it was a long time now since the deluge. People had got thinner and thinner, whilst some had got fatter and fatter, depending on what medicine they used to deaden the effects of the deluge. Everyone had long hair now, making them look a bit like animals. And maybe that was what they were now. Just animals. No one bothered to do anything to their hair any more. They couldn’t anyway. No one had any decent clothes any more. Not that it mattered anyway. Fashion had gone out of fashion. That was because of the deluge as well.

Jemima looked again at her shoes. What was the point? Jim had died long ago. After the stars fell and the moon froze. He had been one of the first to go. She hadn’t even been able to go and hold his hand. Since then many more had died. She had no human contact any more. Back home, she opened the cupboard door, and there it was. The gun. Jim’s gun. She took it, and, with one last glance at her wet shoes, shot herself.


The path stretched before my blind eyes
Taking me into the unknown
By the old stone wall scented
With the scent of ancient souls
Entering a world of mystery
I was taken into a different realm
Where words were not needed
And sight did not need eyes
My heart knew the message felt
The joys and sorrows mingling into one
Soon I came to a door I pushed
It opened into the womb of time
Dark and moist holding protecting
All its mysteries until the Universe
Ceased its groaning and peace reigned
All sorrows gone tears wiped away
In a new Eden eternal and yet ever new




Tall hedges lined the long narrow lane,
Beneath them, flowers, and deadly nightshade,
Beyond them lush green fields where cattle grazed,
I imagined them to be horses,
On their backs I could ride, gallop
Through my world of childhood dreams

Many were my childhood dreams,
I dreamt them as I walked down the lane,
I’d race in a race, at the gallop,
Never mind the deadly nightshade,
I’d turn the cattle into horses,
Train them in the field where they grazed

At night I’d walk where the cattle grazed,
Lost for the moment in my dreams,
With the wave of a wand they could be horses,
The other side of the hedge was the lane
And I had to remember the deadly nightshade
As I heard the horses gallop

I’d never before made a horse gallop,
Though often in other dreams I’d grazed,
I was drawn one day to the deadly nightshade,
Now it had invaded my dreams,
I knew there was danger in the lane ,
I forgot the galloping horses

I’d always been fascinated by horses,
But never taken one at the gallop,
Now I was fascinated by the lane,
As this night the cattle grazed,
Soon I’d be in the land of dreams,
Where I could approach the deadly nightshade

“Don’t go near the deadly nightshade,”
My grandmother said as I dreamt of horses,
But she could not get into my dreams,
Where I’d taken horses at the gallop,
On the deadly nightshade I grazed,
Grandma found me dead in the lane

#FOWC. Practice

FOWC with Fandango — Practice

Tilly had had it. She was fed up. He had exercised utter control over her whilst she had been ill and bedfast. Yes, she was ill, but her brain hadn’t gone. She was still a human being in that pain wracked disintegrating body. But he wouldn’t let her speak for herself. Not even to her doctor, who visited her regularly. He took over, and spoke for her, and what was worse, he told the doctor it all wrong. Pulse rate, oxygen levels, temperature, and all the vital signs. He created a totally false picture for the doctor. Tilly kept trying to speak, but could not mae her voice heard above his. He was facing the doctor and she was engrossed in what he was saying, and taking it all in. Tilly wanted to shout out,

“No, no, that is all wrong,” but she could not get enough volume in her voice.

Inside, Tilly shrivelled up. She was fast becoming a non person. She ached inside, and knew it was hopeless. It had always been this way. Him shouting her down in company, saying she was wrong, and everyone listening to him.

In time, Tilly became well enough to visit the doctor’s surgery for herself in her wheelchair. She wanted something simple. A simple prescription that she had had many times before. She attempted to talk to the doctor, then noticed that HE was there. He had followed her in. He tried to take charge of the conversation. That was IT for Tilly. She was having no more of it. She spun round fast in her powered wheelchair and drove it towards the door. He was in her way, blocking her in. He refused to move. Cshe drove over his foot.

“Ouch!” He yelled.

“Well you shouldn’t have sat there then should you. This is meant to be a private consultation.”

With that, she was gone. Out of the door, out of the building, and down the road to the next surgery along the road.

In a fluster she entered Reception.

“Is your PRACTICE taking on new patients?” She inquired.

“Yes,” said the girl behind the screen.

“Well will you take me then?” asked Tilly.

“Yes,” replied the girl.

“And please, will you never speak to my husband,” she said. “I’ve just escaped from the surgery up the road.”


Can we see light? The Collins English Dictionary describes light as “the brightness that lets us see things.”

We usually associate light and seeing with the eyes. Unless something pulls us up on this, we may well believe that it is only possible to see with the eyes. But what if the eyes fail? What if the eyes do not work, for some reason? Can we not then see?

I would like to say that there are different ways of seeing, and that those who cannot see with their eyes may actually see things much more clearly than those who can see with their eyes. Darkness gives a new dimension to light. It is possible to see even in the darkness. The darkness can be a treasure house. Yet most people would choose light over darkness.

What can we see in the darkness? I would say that we can see more purely in the darkness, because all the peripheral things do not get in the way. We focus and there is nothing to take away the light that we are seeing. The pure, unadulterated light.

I would be interested to know what you think about this. As many of you know, I am blind. Though I could see once, and so go on memory. Those who are born blind cannot even go on memory, but have to formulate some way of seeing despite that.

I wonder what your thoughts are on this?

i am just about to read a book called “All the Light we Cannot See,” and it was this title that set off this train of thought.



Sal was used to being at the CENTER of things. Ever since going BANKRUPT however, she had had to learn to live with being just ordinary. Each day she woke up thinking “TOMORROW will be better.” She was well able to put on the CHARM, and those NEAR to her were well aware of this. Often she went DOWNTOWN with ME and we would FILL our flasks with all kinds of brews. She always carried her FILE in her bag, ready to show anyone who might shoe some interest in her. She didn’t know why, but she always wore her sexy LACE underwear. It made her feel better even though no one else was going to see it. Every now and then a SIGH could be heard coming from her. Would she ever be able to open her owwn SALON again?


The box grows smaller every day
I cannot pray
I try to breathe
Inside I seethe

I bang on walls that touch my skin
They keep me in
I cannot move
I’m in my groove

The walls begin to crush me now
I disavow
The life I had
In terror clad


Stuck in an iron box
Hearing the birds singing
Helpless body an empty shell
Paralysed listening to joyful songs
Iron hard impenetrable
Hope dies slowly gasping

Will hope live again

Imprisoned unable to speak
Trying to move dead arms
Chest wall ceasing to rise and fall
Suffocating darkness pressing
Mouth attempts to emit a sound
Voice stuck in throat
Closing around syllables
Breathing almost gone

Will hope live again

Scrabbling on iron walls
Hands leaving a message
Etched with finger nails
Throat loosening
A scream rises
Hits iron walls

Will hope live again



Last night I tried to tell you tales
Filled with nails
They hit a wall
You heard me fall

I lie here now on frozen ground
Without a sound
My body taut
My spirit fraught

I breathe my last and leave this earth
For what it’s worth
I am but dust
That just went bust