“the cats hadn’t lived in a village before”

An old man lives at the bottom of my garden. His name is Robert Barkus, or Bakehouse, or Bagust. Nobody is quite sure. But I often sense him around when I’m gardening, and I’ve found out a fair bit ab

These Spectred Isles

The lives of Clara and Nancy are worlds apart – but is it time for them to finally live out their dream?

IT’S all over town, Ada,” Mrs Francome declared, leaning forward with her basket. “Butter and bacon to be rationed once Christmas ends! “That’ll be just the start, mark my words.” “It’s already starte

What revealed the magic of books for me was The Wind in the Willows. When I was five, I contracted measles, which meant I had to spend my days in bed in a darkened room. My mother sat outside my bedro

Miss Julia White, horsewoman, sailor, farmer and haunter of my own farming life (such as it isn’t) first appeared in my life when I was 17, trying to get myself to agricultural college. Or was it when