Miscellaneous

The Ghost of John Masefield

It’s 8 am and the eastern wind blows through the deserted high street of Rock Ferry. I haven’t spotted any tumbleweed yet, but with the gathering winter wind, yet to reach full potential; it’s surely just around the corner. I seek shelter and the public house is the preferred choice. Approaching the entrance, I remove my gloves and attempt to open the doors. (more…)

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