Poem “Home”

Home. The Rye runs into the DerwentThe Derwent flows down to the seaThis land, these rivers, this RyedaleThese are the heart of me. My life moves forward, and I move alongBut Ryedale comes right along with meThis land holds my…

The Monk’s Cowl

(This short story popped into my head when Suzanne, landlady of the Bay Horse showed some members of the writing group the exact location of a priest’s hole, and I thought, what if…?) Amongst the clientele of the Bay Horse…

The Village

Such a lovely village, with its stream, thatched and ancient stone cottages, village green, pub, and just enough shops and cafes to cater for locals and visitors alike. The main road diverts the bulk of the traffic, leaving the heart…

Debut Theatre Performance

I’m going to be a star. My Nana said not to fidget on stage. I know I fidget because Miss Johnson says I do. Miss Johnson says if I learn not to fidget, then I can practise Megan Clutterbuck’s lines…

Helmsley Market Day (circa 1960’s)

Helmsley Market Day (circa 1960’s) Helmsley at the time that this memoir is set was the hub of the local farming community and there were still several working farms scattered within its boundaries. It was a less ‘refined’ town than…

Vamps

Jake’s seniors had warned that they came in threes but he knew better than to rely on urban myths. He preferred to deal with facts. So he spruced up and set off into the part of town where vamps were…

Meet me in York

Meet me in York Meet me in St LouisOkay then, York will doI’m not such a romanticI’m Yorkshire through and through I’ll never send you flowersNo long walks in pouring rainI’m really a big softieI just can’t take the pain…

Mistaken Identities

Kelle didn’t scare easily. Brought up on a rough council estate in Leeds, she’d fought her way through school taking instruction from her elder brother who’d taught her how to handle herself. Here in Whitby for a week with her…

Gizmo

He was given the name of Gizmo because of his fascination with remote controls: not that he wanted to use them in the way they were designed, rather he would take them apart and pocket only the minute items that…

Femme Fatale

Femme Fatale When Pamela stepped off the bus she to fathom the different scenes before her. Where she stood the sky was bright with the low winter sun almost blinding her: yet across the road along Market Place, a thick…