Death of a loved friend.

This is it. Clocks, Taerg and maiden castle and I don't believe it's a ramble. I'm sorry about the format.

You say stuffed bear I say not He remembers things You have all forgot He was there when I was born And I'll keep him 'till I die Every night I begin to dream He'll be resting by my side

Had a visit from Blake - nice guy - married a peasant girl - and Emps, of course - bit of a cypher, I'd say!

A memory of a brief sojourn in North Norfolk

Oh yes, a little Miss Witch rant!

Is it bull's sperm or plain yogurt?

A poem