She might only be a lump of concrete, but I have an immense fondness for trig. point 4144.
My concrete muse
on the moor (book)
My bat-shit crazy hypothesis about rooks
A ridiculous observation concerning rooks, which can't possibly be right.
Prize-winning author lost on Moor
When your instincts and your compass disagree, trust your instincts. I mean your compass.
Finding stuff out
We only have a few precious years on this wonderful planet, so why not find out what you can about it while you still have the chance?
Finding new ways
How plants can end up in the strangest of places.
The Thomas Browne Affair
On the seventeenth-century polymath Sir Thomas Browne, and his tenuous connection with my local moor.
Dispensing with formalities
I've decided I need to make my book a little less formal.