Author: sjohns
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Dry wit
One evening years ago, I was a passenger on the open top deck of a bateau mouche in Paris. The boat went under a bridge, and someone above us…
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Edward Thomas’s ‘Owl’: missing a feather?
One evening of heat, unseasonal heat – it was late May – I was sitting in the book room with the window wide open, and I heard a tawny owl calling from the trees…
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Three deaths
Sawn off, jut-jawed, tongue lolling, a fox muzzle lies on the path at the edge of the field, small enough to fit in the palm of a hand and easy to miss…