Pete Hartley: sometime dramaturg, perennial scribbler
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.
How a rock band rose from the waves to grasp a Canadian life-line and a comparison of two lead guitarists.
Troubled over bridged water. The Artisan Author takes stock and casts off from the lake he once loved.
A guided circular walk around some of the prettiest parts of the city of Preston in Lancashire, using public transport to break the journey into four parts.
A lack of appreciation for a 'missing' Strawbs album.
A response to the unwrapping of a refurbished museum and the grand unanimated marvels within. Plus a hunt to rediscover a mythical lover.
Concentric thoughts on war-makers from an arachnid.
A pedantic plea, that is probably too late, and warning to fellow scribblers, editors and publishers.
Earlier this month, singer-songwriter Dave Cousins died. There are many obituaries out there. I will not add to those. This, instead, is an attempt to explain how and why his work became vital to my spiritual searching, my creative impetus, my imaginary plundering and my psychological balance.
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