In the after-glow of Christmas, we were sitting in our arm-chairs, pre-dinner reds in our hands, listening to Chris Rea and talking our heads off, as we still do. With a lifetime of stories to tell, we wonder if we'll ever run out and be still of them. Anyway, this was the scene. There was a ... READ the POST

Our seasoned journalists with camera crewsshow us the other side of our privileged livesIn war-torn countriesvictims of missiles and bombspick through fragments of their former livesChildren with dirt-smeared tear-stained facesstand confused afraid aloneMen shift rubblestone by stonewithout hope but ... READ the POST

She saw him aheadcrossing the roadwith dog on leadA lithe manblue jeans with black jumpersoft leather shoesMao hat They crossed slowlyShe had to brakeReckless she thoughtA little arrogant perhapsexpects traffic to stop for himbut no They crossed two metres in front of herand she smiled Old ... READ the POST

How lovely it always feels to sit at my computer ready to pour forth some story, a poem maybe, words. My happy place. There are thousands of ways people make themselves happy. I hope that even those with shitty lives - those abused, those homeless, hungry, grieving can find a little happiness ... READ the POST

They sit facing each otherShe in her small blue arm-chairhe in his larger firm not puffy onebut a better fit for his robust frameThe slow combustion firebox glows with licking slow-dancing flamesA little mesmerized they stare into it This is new for themThey haven't seen each other for decadesbut ... READ the POST

LADY WITH THE RUBY RING In her youth she'd been enrolledin finishing school for ladiesand the el-o-cution drill that upper class mothers required as a feather in their well-made hats She sits now at a tableout to lunchlegs crossed at the ankles not the kneesone hand wrapped around a sparkling ... READ the POST