The Bard of Tysoe

The Bard of Tysoe

“Beautiful writing. Each word pulls you towards the next in effortless momentum. Very much enjoy your work.”
— Mark Peter Beeson
“I love your blog! You write so beautifully.”
— Oliver Ryan

Pages…

▼

Wednesday, 7 May 2025

If knowledge could be set up against mortality…

Bridge 142, Shropshire Union Canal © 2000 Simon Crosbie for Rosie: Simon’s song (in memory of Simon Crosbie: 25 December 1966 to 24 Apri...

Wednesday, 30 April 2025

The old man and the tarn…

For Paul Besley … — inspired by him, his writing, and a recent visit to Eel Tarn . As the Sun also rises, so the Moon rests. Its waning gl...

Thursday, 27 March 2025

I’m definitely amazed…!

I picked up the book in the image — a book I had been anticipating for weeks — and was crying by page 2: recognizing elements of both mys...

Tuesday, 25 March 2025

Would in thy palm dissolve…

Conditionality Provoked by yet another hospital visit — this one more promising than most… — and therefore composed over a watchful, tho...

Friday, 21 March 2025

The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind…

The ballad of Woodhouse Colliery the siren blasts pre-dawn today wakes the locals at five-thirty it is time it screams for the chosen ...

View web version

EVERYTHING YOU WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT THE BARD BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK:

The Bard of Tysoe: Copeland, Cumbria, United Kingdom; Originally an amateur musician… — yet having worked in IT and marketing communication for a quarter of a century — both as manager and consultant; as well as writing for the Guardian… — the Bard retired for medical reasons; and now devotes his life to keeping as healthy as possible by putting one foot in front of another (badly, but semi-frequently); watching the world, with all its vagaries, go by (in great puzzlement); capturing what he sees (in words and pictures); and trying to leave a trail of happiness in his wake. What matters most to him are beauty, truth, cats, and fairness — in whatever myriad forms they occur — and he despises inequality, greed, fascists, and hate. His favourite occupation is thinking; and he was (therefore) — for a handful of years — the Orchestra of the Swan’s ‘writer in reticence’. You are now, though, most likely to encounter him staring into space, with a thoughtful grin beneath his wonted hat and dark glasses, walking stick in hand, somewhere in the quieter parts of the Northern, North Western, and Western Fells of Lakeland. (He resembles nothing so much as a badly-dressed Herdwick.)

View my complete profile

Powered by Blogger.