Books, Poems, Thoughts
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This is about one of the projects I’ve been working on recently, researching the hidden histories of women in the City of London, from the Norman Conquest to the mid-twentieth century.
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Originally posted on Virginia Rounding: Author, editor, proofreader, indexer: A blackbird alone in the dying sun’s footlights sings to a backdrop of indigo blue; for the sound of its voice, for the sake of the singing, it plays out the longest day of the year. Perched on the rooftop, stop-out blackbird, late home, carousing, careless…
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Here are some bullet points to consider, some suggestions of how to survive with integrity in an environment which seems to have become inimical to good sense, tolerance and civilised values: Listen to others, be polite and attentive, while holding firm to what you believe to be right. Do not provoke, or allow yourself
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i.m. Miron Grindea A sultry afternoon; I identify the house; walk twice round Emperor’s Gate not wanting to be early … A tousled grey head from an upstairs window: – Who’s that? Are you the plumber? “I sent some poems; you called me.” – You haven’t come to mend the sink? Well, never mind… I step