each fragrant frond will sacrifice it’s spirit to the bee
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A Chronological History of Britain
~wandering through life in my time machine...you never know where it will stop next~
Travel via Stories
a resource for moving poetry
Odds and ends of British history in no particular order
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THE DRIVELLINGS OF TWATTERSLEY FROMAGE
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A creative miscellany of mythic fantasies
Shortness of Breadth
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Short Fiction by Nicola Humphreys
Irreverence's Glittering New Low!
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Writing about living in two places (and times)
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Idiotophobe
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
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An onion has many layers. So have I!
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Good lives on our one planet
A collective of poems and photos. All photos taken by me unless stated otherwise.
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When the pen takes control. 
On Friday’s walk I saw the first honeysuckle of the season. It’s true, though the air doesn’t warm, summer is on its way ….
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It’s lovely to walk past a wild honeysuckle and smell the flowers while lulled by the gentle drone of the bees.
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Indeed. And that scent can ve smelled from so far away. But what I saw was only a token; the hedges aren’t full of it yet.
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