Curled up
January. A thick head and heavy limbs. Uncomfortably numb. Comfort comes in sleep. A gentle drift into dreams. They aren’t always pleasant, and many are bizarre and untouchable, but […]
Author Archives: Kevin Parr
Autumn winds
I made an unexpected return to the Wye valley a week or two back. A celebration for Nick’s 50th to which I was generously invited. I only fished for the […]
Butterfly Summer
Water drips from the gutter edges and streams down the bulge of the waterbutt. The ridge beyond the field just a vague blur behind a screen of rain. Its welcome, […]
Garden Party
Spring has sunk into high summer. Days of hot sunshine and sneezes, the air thick with pollen and a rapidly expanding grasshopper orchestra. My time has been stretched. A new […]
Bloodlines
Such is the power of the current Brexit storm, that any issue unconnected (and many things connected) is swept out of thought almost as soon as it comes to […]
Reality
I have come to realise that I do not much enjoy living in ‘interesting times’. If that is indeed what we can call the now. We are certainly living in […]
Wye do we fish?
A week ago I was heading north-west with Chris and Merv, the passenger window down and a familiar tale of footballing woe emanating from St Mary’s via the speakers of […]
Perfect Air
The first brush of autumn frost glistened beneath this morning’s sunrise. Nothing too hard, certainly not enough to drop any fruit from the hedgerows, but a glittery crunch that made […]
Quiet
Nearly three months have passed since I last walked the Common. I’ve been frequently tempted, particularly when I have woken early and the air has been fresh. The prospect of […]
Dust
My Dad planted an apricot tree a few years ago, grafted onto apple (I think). It has flourished in the clay soil and spread itself wide against the south-facing wall […]
