Very honoured to announce Royal Mail issuing a stamp to commemorate The Bath Party; it, quite appropriately, showing the image on the book’s cover.
That’s how I like to see it; Royal Mail on the other and claims it part of a series of stamps issued 2020 in recognition of the Roman legacy still found in Britain.
However, Royal Mail does concede using it for the same reasons as I: from the temple pediment at the Bath Spa, it is the only known depiction of a male gorgon in the world. Continue reading
Poetry based on true events.
Poems for greedies to relate to: one in North American parlance; the other UK vernacular.
It’s that horrible grey time of year again, and so ditto for my annual grey-skies related poetry treat; for as is said by they: every cloud has a silver lining. 
Home truths aplenty guaranteed!
The story of a pessimist serial killer who finds victims by calling them on the phone. 
The Grand Canyon is but a mere trickle through lowly pebbles in comparison to how much I hate being told what to do. The poem below perhaps captures the greatest representation currently encountered, but the irritation can equally extend to being told how I felt about something; especially when the feeling in question is one I don’t particularly care for.
There’s a particular company that, much like snake oil purveyors of old, profits from peddling false notions; in this instance the idea that spraying something with a mist equals it being clean and no longer odious; in personally finding said product itself greatly irritating to the nasal passages, it suffices to say I do not concur immensely.
Thoughts while walking home from the pub one recent night.
N. P. Ryan 