What can you do with a Blog?

It seemed timely to double check Katherine Briggs ‘The Fairies in English Tradition & Literature’ just in case a Blog was a type of nature spirit or a long-forgotten sprite or elemental. Of mischievous Boggarts, the shapeless Brollachan and North Country Bogles there were plenty, frolicking, hiding and haunting the highways and low-lands. Some are best glimpsed by moon light, others steal elf horses and set up home in barns, but not a single Blog was to be found on the pages of Brigg’s marvellous tome. Sadly, blogs are a purely human-made construct. I tried not to be disappointed. The otherworldly is all around. Music and poetry have long been considered fairy gifts and the piper plays on, if you choose to listen.

I had the pleasure of being interviewed by ‘Louder Than War’s’ Gus Ironside. A long time Peter Perrett aficionado, Gus and I talked about books old and new, including the forthcoming ‘Greenwood Faun’ which is due for publication via Egaeus Press, this September and how I’d ventured from rock n’ roll into a more otherworldly realms. I never thought I’d write a protest poem either – but – one doesn’t expect a council to start felling thousands of healthy, mature trees because they are an impediment to tidy streets. But that is precisely what has happened in Sheffield and why I wrote ‘Sheff’. Tree activist ‘The Sad Squirrel’ very kindly provided illustrations to go with the lyrics. As well as being mystical, living entities, trees filter pollution and provide leafy bowers for urban wildlife. Gus and I had plenty to talk about and I look forward to posting the interview.

I was very sorry to hear that Paul Clements, bass player with Manchester’s E.P.I had passed away. Paul was a lovely chap, steeped in rock n’ roll and a huge Thunders fan. Paul leaves behind a young family and will be missed by many. L.A.M.F always, Paul.

That’s all for now, this Blog is best glimpsed by moon-light and I need to get back to working on my current project, an anthology of moody Victorian poetry by a cruelly neglected but awesomely melancholy author who it is said still haunts the star-washed streets of London. Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder…….