Snell Publishers

Independent e-publishers of fantasy, self-help and travel poetry

Westonzoyland to Bridgewater

As we go on I see a tractor pulling earth and broken concrete (signs of the flood) and everywhere along the route there are travellers asking the bus driver where she is going. They are lost and waiting for a bus, any bus. Wanting to get places, wanting to get home where they came from. Rather like India, the vagueness, the waiting, the awareness of the temporal nature of things that can change at any time for any reason. Only here the situation is too much water, whereas in India it is always a lack of what we have in abundance. Read More...

Ride Across Somerset levels


I did not intend to go to Shepton Mallet on the Somerset Levels on March 3, but there was a memorial service there for a great friend. She was funny, so wise! I set off on the train, knowing that Castle Cary was the nearest stop to where I wanted to go. (I travel by public transport not so much because of ideology but because we sold the car (a Rover, old but with a silver heart) a couple of years ago and now I travel by train, which means I can look at stuff.
Here is a Castle Cary poem, from years ago . Written when I lived in Canada and borrowed the name for a house I lived in once, but subsequently lost. Read More...