Posted by: The Malt House | August 20, 2011


A new day begins, a blank card on which we write our story. Pristine and perfect, there are no flaws or mistakes… yet!

Posted by: The Malt House | August 16, 2011


Serried ranks stand tall,

proud, pristine,

upright in death as they were in life.

Pay witness to battlefield,

Omaha, tranquil beach on foreign soil.

Where young lives were spent

Profligate pawns in a world war game.

Posted by: The Malt House | June 8, 2011


Twisted, broken,

Bejewelled leaf shimmers

in post-storm sunshine.

Posted by: The Malt House | June 7, 2011


A.N. Other

1958 – To Date

Time marches on, relentlessly ticking seconds off our lives. We’re born bringing nothing but our spirit into this world. When our allotted time is over, we take that spirit and our memories with us…

To measure our worth it’s not the dates that count; it’s our dash between these dates; the achievements and memories that we share with those around. That time is ours and must be spent; let’s try to spend it wisely!


Posted by: The Malt House | May 5, 2011


The gull cries its goodnight wishes then banks and surfs the waves. The sun dips into the horizon and, quenched by the sea, its warmth diminishes and dies. Steely grey, the sea casts an ozone chill into the still night air.

Posted by: The Malt House | April 26, 2011

Clee sunrise

Flamingo sunrise with pigeon clouds washes over a serene and tranquil Clee. Muffled morning silence broken by a distant pheasant call.
Posted by: The Malt House | April 7, 2011

Breakfast Bowl



Tsunami time, eternal and unstoppable, rushes on. The night has been holding Shropshire in a chill and muted bowl of darkness. To the east, the sun rises slowly towards the rim. Suddenly light, colour and warmth spills in. The torrent tumbles over the land, shadows swept away, eddies of birdsong chorus and fill the silence.

And now the bowl is full, the morning air calms and steadies to leave the gift of another beautiful day.

Posted by: The Malt House | March 18, 2011

The Forge

Molten clouds forged in the fiery furnace of a new day. They coalesce and cool, steely grey shards cutting powder blue sky. Colours emerge from the greyness of the night. Heat from the forge warms and wakes the land.  Nature stretches and stirs…

Posted by: The Malt House | March 17, 2011

Misty Morn

Misty wraiths dance and rise from the slow moving river. Soft, still air blankets the fields, while ghostly trees stand guard. A pheasant calls, then silky silence descends and all is calm once more.

Posted by: The Malt House | March 15, 2011

Team Colours

Winter admits defeat for another year and nature waves her golden flag in celebration. Hedgerows burst with fireworks of forsythia and crocus. Daffodils trumpet loud the victory. Golden sun rises into the still, clear air; that stillness briefly broken by a woodpecker drumroll. Spring has arrived sporting her new team strip in blue and gold.

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