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My dad was a coalman and he used to stand in front of the fire in winter and the steam used to come off him in clouds. Oh the lovely smell of coal tar, sweat and horsemuck the finest smells of all. mixed with Ansells Brewery of course. Regards, David Weaver

‘My Secret Place’ David Weaver ã Have I told you of my secret place, a land that is full of dreams? Been exploring it for many years, much shorter than that it seems. I’ve never told of this secret, it was only mine to share. For I feared the telling of it, would bring other eyes to...

‘Footsteps in the sand’ David Weaver © Remember walking through the desert of life, four footsteps cutting deep in the sand. Far into the distance stretches a lifetime of love, as we marched boldly on hand in hand. When only two footsteps were all you could see, as I strode into the evening...

Hello Wendy, it's going to be thirty eight to forty all this week and my tomatoes will be getting sun burned. The pictures are lovely, thanks. David.

‘The Equinox’ David Weaver © When my schoolteacher, Ticker Bagshaw, asked me to explain ‘The Equinox’ to the class of budding geniuses, to which I belonged, the puzzled expression on my pimply face made it quite obvious to the world that I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Being a...

Hey Colin, I wanted to know when I read this and it really is very good. Thank you and give my salute to your lovely city, I spent many hours there as a child and young man. Regards, David.

Really lovely this is, that's why I'm cleaning out my box too, never know what I might find. Regards, David

‘Pretty Girl’ David Weaver © Charley Dingo placed his heavy hunting spear against the tree and turned to face Pretty Girl, who was sitting by the fire cooking a freshly caught turtle. She was now no more than skin and bone, and since the fire ants had entered her stomach, two wet seasons back...

THE OLD STONE BRIDGE By David Weaver © I gazed from the wall of the old stone bridge, into the river below. Thoughts wandering back to when I was young, just a lovesick youth full of show. I remembered the stepping stones, waiting, as they had for a million feet. Someone had placed them at the...

Thanks Jean, but for you they would still be tucked away in my laptop. Regards, David.

Thank you now I'll sleep happy. Regards, David.

Thank you Lynda, she was someone quite special and I dedicated it to her along with all the others. Regards, David.

Bernard, I am not a religeous man but take a walk out into the garden, look up into the evening sky and as surely as night follows day there will be one star blinking at you brighter than the others. Cup your hands around it and send her a message for the obvious love you still feel will then...

‘May I have this last dance?’ David Weaver © Let me cup your face in my old hands, kiss you tenderly on the lips. Dance in the moonlight for a hundred years, firm hand guiding your hips. Look at the moon through the branches, as we move with the grace of a deer. Waltz near the oaks till the sun...

So very beautiful, and should be sent to the War Museum in London for their records. Thanks, David.

Thanks Dave, if you look closely to each side of the road there are a thousand footsteps lightly covered by time, the smaller one's are my girlfriend's who, like me, vanished into the ether. I can smell the vegetation, hear the birds and wander along with my ghosts of yesterday. Thank you. David.

Great writing and makes one realise what a wonderful language we have, all made up from twenty six letters of the alphabet. Regards, David.

I also like to wish everyone a happy Christmas and a Happy New Year from Down-under. Walking through the snow in the Gumslade, searching for the tracks of the wildlife and remember times long gone. Happy days. Regards, David.

Hello Jean, many thanks,I'm the bloke with the BSA Golden Flash with a self satisfied smile on his face. Regards, David.

Just goes to show Bill, you can't keep a good lad down. Regards, david.