Underneath the spreading chestnut tree…

Underneath the spreading chestnut tree…

No, this isn’t going to be a post about old nursery-rhyme songs, Winston Smith, Mr Charrington and 1984, apposite as that might be when it comes to current times and trends in UK and US politics. Instead, it’s a reference to a poem by Longfellow, entitled...
Always read the small print…

Always read the small print…

It’s a good rule of thumb, reading the small print. Taking out a mortgage? Signing the employment contract for your new, executive suite, highly-paid job? Signing your multi-million pound major label record deal or assigning the Hollywood film rights to your...
(Anti-)Social Media…

(Anti-)Social Media…

Ah, Facebook. That dodgy doyen of data miners. The pernicious paragon of privacy invaders. The appalling accomplice of advert slingers. We all know what Facebook is like but, at some point, we’ve decided “Oh well, it’s useful for keeping in touch...
Finding a voice…

Finding a voice…

If I were to dig out all of the old posts that used to be on this blog, you would find a distinct pattern emerging. It’s probably best described as extended periods of silence, punctuated by occasional short bursts of activity.  In fact, it got so bad at one...
The Clachanpluck Poems

The Clachanpluck Poems

I still seem to be stuck in poetry mode at the moment, although these little verses came about in a slightly different fashion.  It’s all Facebook’s fault. Well, actually, that’s not quite true, it’s all a guy called Phil McMenemy’s...
The Hills

The Hills

When you’re on a roll, you’re on a roll.  Yet another poem.  This one isn’t dark, it isn’t angsty and it isn’t an airy-fairy exercise in writing some particular form or other, it’s just a poem.  I suppose it might be in ballad...