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Catching Spricks By The Mill ‘By Paul McCann Catching spricks in the Milley Dam was like going on a safari adventure you bring buckets and glass jars...

Door To Door Collectors By Paul McCann The people who came with a knock on the door collecting money as they went past like the men’s confraternity...

In the darkness, she dreamt. She saw the village in which she lived. Elm trees, which lined the roadside of her culdesac, shed their leaves, floating...

One of the first few sonnets I ever wrote... I took a word out of it today.

The Gift Of Winter By Paul McCann When winter came men were seen wearing donkey jackets and women wore their scarfs . Children had mitten and gloves...

Simplicity was almost exactly as she remembered. Although her time on the ship had been short, its layout and the events that occurred within were...

Machines, machines, machines galore: molecular machines to … Three-dimensional chemical complexity, beautiful structure, amazing activity!

This is a piece that didn't make it into the very unreliable Berlin memoir 'In the Mouth of the Bear'. (Available on the 'Zon, in big writing). It's just descriptive, it's not really about anything, so I left it out.

The weight is over, glass half full upon us, for spring is here...