Category Archives: Unreliable memories

Canada in Somerset

My first memory of Auntie Diane was perhaps at the beginning of 1967; much earlier, and the moment would have been beyond memory; much later, and the occasion would not have have assumed the aura it still possesses. My aunt, … Continue reading

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A magical mistiness

The mist was rolling in as I drove home from work, it would not have been hard to have imagined magical stories. When I was young, there were always magical stories. Somerset was  place for knights in shining armour who … Continue reading

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Passing through Loxley

Driving the A39 road from the top of Pedwell Hill to the foot of Puriton Hill takes you along the narrow ridge at the top of the Polden Hills. On either side, the land falls to low-lying moorland. Near a … Continue reading

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Frightening plimsolls

After posting here about the teacher called Gorf  and the terror he struck in the hearts of pupils at his school, I was sent memories of how frightening had been the PE teachers at one local school. The one thing … Continue reading

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On a road with a windmill

The wind now battering our house has a name, according to the news, it is called Storm Freya. Had all the other storms that have battered the house over the years been given names, there would be few names left … Continue reading

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