Over at The Dabbler I have posted on William McGonagall, the gloriously bad poet – guaranteed to cheer you up on a Monday. Have to confess I...

Tack is turning to Hub, if you follow TofE’s adapted Blodgett method for defining the seasons, and the blackberries are beginning to ripen...

The other week The Local Character and I got to talking, I forget by what conversational route, about Bristol Zoo. The Zoo is small but perf...

Following the weasel/stoat controversy , I yesterday spotted another interesting dead animal on the lane. Any idea what this rodent is? A po...

The other day in the lane I had to scrunch myself up to avoid what could have been an untidy encounter with a hedge cutting vehicle much lik...

Despite the expert coaching of the Lancastrian dwarf I didn’t much enjoy shooting and I didn’t particularly like myself for the bits I did e...

Adjacent to our office is a small business dedicated to producing magazines about France and Australia. Its employees have been in about a y...

I've been spotting a lot of dead animals on my lunchtime strolls. Some living ones too, but you can get a much better look at dead anima...

The other week as I hacked up one of my favourite postprandial lanes I observed a small van nestled into a passing point. In the driver’s se...

The usual hike at lunchtime, taking a break from the Beeb. At the peak of the hill a buzzard pushed out of a tree clump directly below me an...

First Summer is lasting well. Yesterday lunchtime I drifted quietly through Pipley Wood. That is, it felt like quiet drifting to me; to the ...

A goose not dissimilar to the one pictured above patrols the entrance to the yard of Dave’s farm shop. It and I have taken a dislike to eac...

The notion that we have four seasons in England is a risible fallacy. In fact we have six: Spring, First Summer, Rainy Season, Second Summer...

Scandalously, my Alpaca film only managed third place in the 2010 Yo! Sushi Award for Film and Sculpture Exploring Issues Around Identity i...

...can live together in perfect harmony, side by side on my pyaano keyboard, O Lord, why can’t these alpacas on the alpaca farm* down the ro...

Gaw’s excellent and highly amusing ramble down the rural Welsh lanes of his youth reminds us that there’s nowt so queer as country folk. Is ...

Even in this crowded country you don’t have to walk for very long to feel cut off from the reach of CCTV and the great swarming human ant c...

In Bristol, 1 January 2010 broke cloudless but with a lingering frost on the windscreens and grassy patches. Mine eyes haven’t seen the dark...

So the next day, a Friday, braced and full of beans after Thursday’s thrilling blackberry-scrumping adventure in which I had unequivocally ...

This is a tale of thrilling recklessness. Last Thursday my lunchtime stroll took me, almost against my will, along lanes eastwards, eastward...