Get to bell before the low tideSlow down the pipe mind your stride.Compressed air makes the breathing hardWorking for hours in heat and dark.Levelling out the seabed get it rightQuay stones to be laid before the night. Six in our gang in our metal…

Round and smooth, frail but strong. I was blown once, made of molten sand from the very beach where I lay forgotten until she found me. “Oh look, what is it, Hugh? Isn’t it lovely? Can we keep it as a memory of our time here?” Forgotten now the…

“If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.”―Rudyard Kipling. I love visiting Museums. You’ll always hear Writers and Storytellers say that stories, in whatever form, bind us and that we can only really learn how…

Gillian has put a little mistake in this poem! Listen carefully. Can you spot what it is? What word would you use instead? “C’mon, we’ll go down The Mermaid and collect some firewood on the way.” They’re my Grandma’s words. She lived in…