Recent Posts
A taste of the before times -Share in the Square
On August Bank Holiday Sunday we had our first live performance gig in the sort-of-after times as part of Crediton Arts Centre’s Share in the Square and it was a corker.We had a stonking line up of performers headlined by Robert Garnham and supported by …
It’s here! Tell Me Something – the Poetic Licence podcast
We were bowled over by the quality of submissions we received for the inaugural episode of the Tell Me Something podcast. We’ve collected them together and woven your poems and sounds to create an immersive sound journey. Find your safe space, close your eyes and …
Three carols and a song
So this is ChristmasLike most of us, I navigate and feel comforted by the traditions that we wheel out at this time of year; the foods that we cook, the people we see, the stories we tell, the songs that we sing. And this year, …
Sandford Scenes – Autumn
Like most dog walkers, we regularly walk the same ways with Cooper. One of these is a there-and-back again which runs along the footpath alongside our garden through into Gorwyn’s Field, down past Furlongs and over Lower Creedy bridge, along Thornedges to the river. John …
Poetry Profile – Robert Garnham
Robert Garnham, aka The Professor of Whimsy, has been taking his much-loved brand of LGBT whimsy and humour to UK audiences for over a decade. He’s an inveterate performer at the Edinburgh fringe, a prolific writer and co-host of popular South Devon Spoken Word night …
Sounds of Silence
Sandford is a village in mid Devon. It lies 2 miles north of Crediton and 9 miles north west of Exeter and is one of a number of villages scattered along a sandy valley where the earth is red and ribboned by the river Creedy. …
All Change
It isn’t always possible to see that things are changing, it can happen so gradually that it’s hard to detect, or you’re so immersed in the moment that you don’t notice – and then you find that suddenly your hair covers your eyes, new lines …
To and Fro
LOCKING DOWNAs lockdown rumbles on, my fantasies begin to revolve around journeys. I roll the memory of driving into the grey January dank on the Saturday A303 around in my head; the cushion of the seat against the back of my legs, the low chatter …
