Warning: In this post I rabbit on about basically nothing. I would not make a good travel writer. But it’s what I’ve got to post right now, even if it’s not terribly interesting.

One of the nicest little walks I know is from Ball Grove Park to Wycoller, near Colne. It is a little walk, and very simple. You park at Ball Grove Park, and from there the path is mostly pretty clear. You follow the water. I say water because it’s not really fit to be called a river, but I’m not sure I’d call it a stream of a beck either. The name I can find for it is ‘Colne Water’, so apparently it’s not just me.

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Borough of Scarborough

I wasn’t sure what to call this post. We stayed at Cayton Bay, but we didn’t really look around that bit much. Went for a couple of small walks, but that was it. And we visited Scarborough, Whitby and Filey, so this seemed like the best title. We went there last July. I’ve been trying to do this post for a few days, but WordPress was playing up on me in regards to uploading photos, but it’s doing it now.

So, Cayton Bay:

Cayton Bay 4


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Spring 2014

In the pictures library of my laptop is a folder called Out and About, which is where I put the photos I take when I’m, well… out and about, I guess. In that folder are folders for each season. It’s not the most delicate way to arrange photos, but it’s how I do it. And well past the halfway mark of June I realised I could do a post for my photos from each season after it was done. So yeah, here are some of the pictures I took in spring.

First, some lambs:

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Poetry – What to Write About?

Not sure how this is going to go, but it is something I mentioned I may do another post about, and although I made a point of not promising anything, I still feel even mentioning I might obliges me to at least try. But this isn’t going to be particularly helpful to anyone, I don’t think, if any of my posts are very helpful. It’s just some of my own thoughts, which I guess is a valid purpose a blog can have, even if I feel a bit daft.

Anyway, some ramblings on the content of poetry.

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Redrafting Your Writing

Redrafting. An absolutely vital part of writing a book. Without it, all you have is a first draft, which unless you are absolutely perfect and everything you touches turn to gold, will be full of things like bad writing, things that don’t make a lot of sense, inconsistent characters, and things which contradict things said just a few pages ago. And no-one is absolutely perfect.

Redrafting is an easy thing to half do. Well, less than half do, to be honest. It’s really easy to just go through a manuscript, change the wording of a few sentences, add a bit more description here and there, and delete a few of the most conspicuously stupid passages, and declare that a new draft. I suppose technically you could say it is. But the point of redrafting isn’t to make an almost identical copy of the first one.

The problem isn’t just laziness – that is a problem, if you are lazy about it – but I think you can be frightened of changing the book too much. I am, I have the idea of what my story to be and I don’t want to lose that. But changes can make the book so much better, and if you hold back you’ll never know how good it could have been.

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Pendle Hill



Climbed Pendle Hill the other day. It’s a hill I’ve climbed plenty of times over my life. It’s not a big hill, but it’s a good walk.
Before I give my usual rubbish non-description of the walk though, I want to explain Pendle Hill’s name, simple because I find it amusing.

So first off, the first part, ‘Pen’. That is from the ancient British word for ‘hill’. It’s common in hills in the north of England, some have completely Cumbric names (Cumbric being an extinct Celtic language¬†that was likely really just a dialect of Welsh, spoken across quite a bit of the north of England). ‘Dle’ comes from Old English; it was ‘hyll’, but got smushed in with the ‘Pen’. So, when people apparently just forgot that the name of the hill was Hillhill, they added another hill, making it Hillhill Hill. That’s the kind of stupid thing I find amusing, and now you’ve had an insight into what my sense of humour is like, I shall get on with my post.

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Morecambe Bay

First off, this is my tenth post. I feel like that is somehow an accomplishment, even though it really isn’t. But I feel that, now, I’ve created enough content that if I were to suddenly stop blogging (which I’ve no intentions of doing), there would at least be enough for any random person who stumbled upon this blog to… I don’t know, spend some time reading?

I’d also like to thank everyone who has liked, commented or followed so far. It makes me really happy when the little square up on the top right is yellow when I log in. So thank you all!

Anyway. I said I would do posts of photos from various holidays I’ve been on over the last couple of years – that’s when I got my camera, so that’s the backlog I have. It will just be photos, and I have my diaries to remind me what everything is. So, this post will have photos from my holiday to the village of Silverdale, which is on Morecambe Bay, last August.

So, to begin with, pictures I took around Silverdale. The beach:




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