Tag Archives: #Looe

Off to the beach

We’re off to the beach,

the three Doggoes and one me;

seaweed for breakfast?

Mini to Looe






Stone tower

I built a stone tower

up to the sky,

it must’ve been all

of three inches high.

Eating seaweed by the sea

Eating seaweed by the sea,

just Vega, Haiku, Dad, and me;

though Dad won’t eat the lovely stuff,

so, for us three, there’s just enough.

New Kindle Book!

Another one?!

‘The Tenacious Ten go just a bit silly in Cornwall’

is now available on Amazon

for a mere pittance.

Why not have a look?

Thank you for reading and your continued support


Clouds over Looe

I’ll never get over you.


Even when there were clouds,

and rain fell,

and tides rose,

and floods came

and went

and came again.

I’ll always have you

in my mind,

to find

when days are overcast,

and Looe will then come flooding back

(in a good way);

and, in that moment,

I’ll think of the future,

and the past.

“Spare a chip for a hungry gull?”

He, or she,

asked me,

ever so humbly,

for a chip.

I obliged,

as I am won’t to do.

Within seconds

there was a hullabaloo!

Gulls came flying down

from above –

the call had gone around the town,


The tinsel untangler of old Looe town

Tinsel in a tangle?

Decorations run amok?


Stay jolly,

leave the holly upon the bush;

imagine your Christmas tree,

without actually having one.

Imagine it perfectly lit,

with tinsel and ornaments

perfectly positioned,

and sturdy enough

to allow all the cats in the neighbourhood

to swing from the branches

without harm to either party.


And no needles to pick up,

no tree to pack away,

no chocolates hanging

low enough for the dogs to eat,

no worry, and no vet’s bill,

no cost involved

at all.


Tinsel tangled?

Decorations in a mess?


There’s a cure for that.

The Cornish Chough

The Cornish chuff flew from Slough to Peterborough; he landed on a bough, and said, ‘Enough is enough, for now.’ Through the rough night the Chough did cough; but feeling better come the morning, to Loughborough he flew, to see a roof he knew. Later that afternoon, he did go from Loughborough, back to Slough, to Crewe, then to Looe.

Gulls: Jacks or Jills?

You can tell by the gills

of the gulls

whether they are Jacks

or Jills.

Unless gulls don’t have gills.

I have checked:

a gull has no gills,

they are not fish,

and, probably, never were.

The plumage is the thing

to catch the gender of the… gull.

But, even then, only an expert,

or a very experienced non-expert

can truly tell.

Well, who knew? Not I,

not you.

They used to be called Mews,

and went around in ones or twos –

that was long, long, long ago,

and they are now called that

by nobody

that I know.

But, if you hear a poet

saying that his muse has left him (or her)

it might (but shouldn’t) occur

to you

that he is talking about

his gull.

That scenario

I have to doubt.