Thursday, 26 November 2015

Back to Black...

The madness of Black Friday is upon us once more (well, almost!) So in honour of all those retailers whose accounts will finally be 'back in black', I've slashed 25% off the price of 'Wolfsbane.'

(Anselm and His Evilness aren't too thrilled about it, but there you go!)


Wednesday, 11 November 2015

The War Poets...

Hello again.

I'm not big on the old rhyming stuff. The truth is, I don't appreciate most poetry, probably because I can't understand 90% of it. (Maybe I'm too stupid?)

War poetry, however, specifically WW1 stuff, is the exception. There's a terrible, beautiful simplicity in the works of these long-dead soldier poets. Even now, a hundred years after they were written, their words are as raw and visceral as on the day they were first written.

For all their brutal honesty, these are poems that I can understand.

So, on this the eleventh day of the eleventh month, I'll leave you with one of my favourite poems. This one was written by Siegfried Sassoon. I hope you find it as moving as I do.


Soldiers are citizens of death's grey land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.   
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.   
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win   
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds and wives.

I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,   
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain   
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.

Thursday, 5 November 2015

Remember, remember...

Remember, remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
 I see no reason, why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes Guy Fawkes, guy, t'was his intent
 To blow up king and parliament.
 Three score barrels were laid below To prove old England's overthrow.
 By God's mercy he was catch'd With a darkened lantern and burning match.
 So, holler boys, holler boys,
Let the bells ring.
 Holler boys, holler boys,
God save the king.
 And what shall we do with him?
 Burn him!

Hope your bonfire night was better than  David Cameron's! :)

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