STUFF HAPPENS

Poetry & prose by Alex Hickman

Notes on Salisbury Plain

Early in the morning I walked back up the hill to pick over the beacon site. I hoped to find some fired nails for the boys. On the hill the grass was wet from the night rain. At the top I found a neat circle of burnt ground. I couldn’t find a single nail, someone […]

Jubilee

Monday 4 June Fred and I hid our bikes behind the grain dryer and walked the rest of the way up the hill. On the slope the grass was tall and wet and I carried Fred on my shoulders to keep his trousers dry. It was a little before ten in the morning; the vale […]