He’s here.

As the setting Sun sinks behind the haunted wood he prepares to ride, to feed.
In the damp darkness of Ladybirch he waits, drooling at the thought of lost souls.
The final twinkle of light fades from the landscape, taking hope and salvation with it.
A blanket of ink black evil descends and takes control of the normal, the weak will die.
Total darkness, the horseman digs his heels into the beast’s flank causing it to rear before bursting forth into the night at a full gallop.700full
The sound of pounding hooves, snorts from the flared nostrils of the horse, the frantic yah yahs of the horse man, and the thrashing of the crop reach into the night.
He only needs one soul, but which one? YOURS?
Watch the shadow, beware the dark, be alert.

A must.

Well, that time of year is once more upon us, Christmas. They say Christmas is just  for children but I disagree. It is for all, and the more that join in the better.
I lost Christmas a few years back thanks to commercial bombardment, television advertising and that pathetic goggle box interpretation of how we should all dress and behave around the festive dinner table.
A slow steady approach is perfect, it gives you time enjoy the preparation, spread the cost and resist those last minute impulse buys that always cost £10 more because of the time of year.
Gifts are an essential part of our Christmas, always have been, always will be, but for me gifts are not as important as the festive table and those that sit round it.
This year, God willing, there will be my younger Brother and Sister, my comical good humored Brother in Law and my beloved partner of 23 years, Jackie, and myself of course.
A glass will be raised and thoughts will be spared for absent friends. When you stop and think, there’s quite a list of those no longer with us.
My contribution to this golden moment is going to be planning and preparation, mainly because I have the time, you don’t need much really, what bit you do have use it wisely and use it to relax and enjoy.
What I’am enjoying the most is doing things for myself instead of relying on the local Supermarket, I’ve already been in the Maconaisse and purchased a nice 2014 Pouilly Fuisse to complement the hand reared Cockerel from up the road, I’am currently in a Green grocers up in Edinburgh selecting my variety of spud.
I’ve been down in the Douro Valley selecting Port, and I have’nt moved out of my chair.
To go to these places, although be it virtually feeds the Brain, and one by one, the fruits of your journey appear, courtesy of an unknown workforce.
I appreciate it’s still a long way off, and a lot can change or happen between now and then, but I’am going to enjoy every second of the build up and give the occasion what it deserves, my Heart and Soul.
Tastes, flavors and smells, all will be worked on.
Our little dog Kippy, our Parents and several Dear Friends have been removed from our Lives, for them and their memory we shall work harder to make this Day all the more special.
Whatever you get up to I hope you enjoy it.
Must go, I’ve got to get the Beer fermenting. Bye.


The Met office have issued their yellow warning, the BBC reporters on news 24 have put the hoods up on their brand new do I look good in this The North Face jacket’s.
Talk about mountains out of mole hills, ok, it’s good to be forewarned regarding any situation, but for these camera crews to be out there looking for whats not there and ending up filming a Gull struggling against a head wind, beats me.
In the calm before the storm I went for a trundle up the lane, it was eerie to say the least, no wind at all to speak of, and the Sun, well, when it did show it was a wonderful orange color, a color normally reserved for Sunsets, but this was 10 in the morning.
The entire scene was bathed in a spooky glow, even the Sheep, chewing the cud and carrying on regardless were tinted orange.
I could feel the warmth of the southern air flow on my hands and face as I gripped the handle bars and felt the g’s of my 4.2 mph fix.
I stopped along the lane to chat to a bloke I had’nt seen for a couple of years, we comfortably passed the time of day reminiscing about time spent in Spain, our younger years of course. We both enjoyed the chat.
But even as we spoke the wind speed picked up, a little at first, then a bit more until it was peeling leaves from the golden Birch and scattering them across the meadow.
We said our goodbye’s and off I trundled, although I had been out three hours I had only covered six miles, but how splendid they were.
The wind speed did increase throughout the afternoon, nothing dramatic but enough to make you think. I managed a wobble round on my stick to do an animal check, the chickens were a bit spooked, otherwise all was well.
As the storm passes and moves on, my thoughts are with those that have been affected by it’s indiscriminate force and power.
Keep well, keep safe.


Well here we are, 0630hrs, on a Sunday morning. Still dark outside but the light off my moth trap is reflecting off the stable roof.
It’s been a mild night for this time of year hence the moth trap, I did want to look at Uranus, but alas to much cloud cover, so I opted for plan B, moths, and glad I did as well, because I know that I’ve got at least 2 Merveille du jour’s, spectacular little beauty’s, hidden gems of Autumn.
So here I’am waiting for daylight so that I can get out there and see what other delights await me.
There was a stonking great Hornet in the trap a while back, not the usual Brown Hornet, but a larger, sharper looking, clean cut lemon yellow and black critter.
Could be one of those Asian Head Eating Hornets that I’ve been reading about, more bad news for the Honey Bee.
I’am also waiting for our Jack to get up, with Jack’s arrival comes the Day and all that we live for.
I’am also looking at old photo’s of last years Damson blossom, already waiting for Spring and the Winter ain’t even started yet, lets not rush it aye.
There’s a lot of beauty to be enjoyed between now and that first blossom,and a lot of hardship as well, for Gods little creatures and ourselves.
The Robin has just kicked off, tick tick ticking, that’s my que to get outside.
Everything is worth waiting for, catch you later.


Death, don’t bother me, it’s miles off. Or is it? We don’t know.
I don’t think we fear death in itself but more the way in which we die, and you don’t need me to tell you that there are some pretty undesirable means and methods out there.
Is death the end or the beginning? Again we don’t know, no one has ever come back to tell us, so it is the unknown, but are we not supposed to fear the unknown, or is it not ignorance and lack of understanding of the unknown that create fear.
Fear is good, fear is healthy, it keeps us alive, keeps us on the right side of the tracks, alive.
But fear is like everything else, good in moderation, to much and you’re a wimp, to little and you’re an idiot with a death wish.
We all have fear, it’s built in, but we have to test it, test our bottle, edge our toe over that line. I believe youngsters call it an adrenaline rush. So it’s good to get out there and edge your bets, to enjoy that uncontrollable nervous laughter when you realize that you are still on  the right side of the tracks, alive.
But what if you found out that you had left the known familiar of your earthly existence behind and now stood on the threshold of your biggest adventure.
It is at this point that the Human imagination can run riot with ideals and beliefs.
What ever your beliefs or opinions the switch from one side of the track to the other is sudden and no matter how loud you shout, no one will hear you. At least I don’t think so.
What I do know is that between Life and Death is a warm place, a waiting room, or a preparation zone, a place where you are on a knife’s edge, balancing between which side of the track you go. It is a place of acceptance, a decision outside of your control is about to be made, you can only lie there and smile, and be ready to accept.


Today started really well for me, you know why, because I opened my eye’s, as good a start as any, and now all I have to do is build on it.
The reason for my reflective mood is this; Last Saturday I went to a 60th birthday party with A’r Jack, it took a lot of effort getting ready but by 20:00hrs we were in and sat comfy in a position prepared by the host, John, Jack’s Gaffer.
I positioned my self perfectly taking all things into consideration, distance from the table access to the toilets fire escape and all that other standard procedure stuff.
The music was loud, 70’s classics mainly, enough to get the foot tapping but not enough to fill the dance floor.
Jack appeared through the crowd carrying our drinks, people stepping aside to allow her through. Smiles of thanks and appreciation exchanged she made it to our table.
Once settled we chinked glasses and observed the comings and goings. I people watched as the party went through it’s customary stages, during a brief lull in the vibes I leaned across to A’r Jack and said;
“6 years ago I could have missed this.”
6 years ago, my darkest hour, I’ll never forget it.
It was at this point a commotion by the door attracted my attention, there was some pushing and shoving, drinks being spilt, and more than likely a few choice words being exchanged. For several seconds the cause of the upset evaded us, then it became clear. Gareth had turned up, and he was minging drunk.
Screamed Gareth, as he slid across the dance floor on his knees in true rock star style.
Bugs cheered and shouted a greeting to his pal, happy at his timely arrival. The session was on.
With only minutes before Jack gets up, it’s time for me to say bye, catch you later.










It was like a Chimps tea party, the kitchen, hub of the cottage, resembled a scene from Bannania because Bugs and Gareth were in the middle of a flour fight. Bugs filled his lungs to bursting point, and then, as if blowing a kiss, he blew a pile a pile of Mcdougal’s finest into Gareths face.
“You. You. You complete and utter bastard you.” Scowled Gareth, shaking his head. Bugs siezed the moment and grabbed the squirty cream, holding the can like a Browning 9mm he advanced two paces then pressed the top, decorating Gareth’s head with a wig of freshly piped cream. The tears ran down Bugsy’s face leaving their trail in the flour, he howled hysterically and had to place a hand on the work surface for support. While Bugs was busy splitting his sides, Gareth picked up the wooden rolling pin and gave Bugs a sharp painful wrap across the knuckles, now he had the advantage and quickly grabbed the can of squirty and thrusting the nozzle into Bugsy’s face he let rip with a prolonged squirt that emptied the can. Gareth dropped the can and with both wings rubbed the cream into a meringue of snowy peaks.
“Why you little……..Stop STOP!!!!”
The two friends brushed themselves off laughing as they did so.
“C’mon Gareth, get serious, lets get these tarts done before the Gaffer has our guts for garters.”
“To right Bugs, but first, lets sing the school song.”
The friends draped arms over each others shoulders like a pair of drunks and broke into song.
“Yar de pockerty…..Rum ping…. Pooooooo….Nik nik nik……YAHOOOOOOO!