What was once seen as virtue Is now seen as weakness No seed of good sense prospers Old ways lost, their moral forgotten And the earth without foundation An exercise in Sinicism

tesco, captain beefheart and the singing postman

Playing shadows on the wall, Fire flickers from eye to eye, From generation to generation, From Africa where we were born, To the distant moon where we have stood, And looked back at earthrise,

Suspended in windless immobility, Killing machines repackaged as what? Tourist attraction, life-sized airfix kits? It’s hard to think men fought in these,

The city streets lie muffled under snow The lofty street light, next’ the river, bends his head, Giving his gift of a sharp-bright glow, To the young man with meat and bread,

This is pants...

Kate is worried about George. Where has he gone? Then she discovers she might have a sliver of her Mum's telepathy after all...

JOHNNY THE PIRATE Johnny the Pirate is in our back-garden beside the shed, the pond and the lawn, he has a cutlass and a button-up coat, a tri-corn hat with feathers adorned.