Pete Hartley: sometime dramaturg, perennial scribbler
I named him BalwinBecause it means ‘bold friend’He’s much bolder than IBut nowhere near as bald.Hopping into her potting shedWithout asking permissionStealing treatsAsking for favoursFistfuls of fatAtrophied mealsSwell his cropBetween badges of greyNot normally noted on a black-breasted bird. That’s how we know it is himIt’s his i.d.That’s meSays heUnder our apple treeNear to her … Continue reading Baldwin the Bold
My home city’s newest bridge has opened. It’s been a long time coming. In another sense it’s been here for over two centuries. The much-cherished Old Tram Bridge spans the River Ribble at the eastern edge of Avenham Park, a green civic space close to the city centre. There’s been a bridge here since the … Continue reading The New Old Tram Bridge
Preston's newest bridge opens next week. Don't cross the fellow who lives under it.
Loud voices, false promises, afterlife in the undergrowth.
How a wimpish schoolboy was introduced to the first play he would go on to produce and revisit the most. Why this seventy-year-old classic is still relevant today.
An appreciation of the David Cousins Celebration Concert held at Bangor University, Saturday 28th February 2026.
I have invented a new acronym. I did not use AI. Here’s why, together with some thoughts on creative integrity and a prophecy of artificial indoctrination.
The garden has gained a new old gargoyle. We wonder what he's thinking.
An appreciation of a new album from long ago. Mysteries of ancient wonder. Endless plains, open roads. Sleepy mornings, strange days, wakeful nights. Ends that are beginnings and starts that never end. Secrets of smiles. Devotion in disguise. Vows kept and broken. Lips cut and closed. Potent poetry and plucking brilliant playing.
An extract from ‘Great Hedgepectations’ the story of an orphaned hedgehog called Rip, suitable for adults and older children.
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