Mike Gould

The climate crisis has now forced its way into the consciousness of millions, many of whom are feeling its effects on their doorsteps,...

" I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath, and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind...

Writing about nightingales - that's a lot of literary and musical baggage to contend with. But, hey, let's give it a go! So, earlier in...

My mother Jean passed away at the start of February. Whilst I would not presume to entirely look inside another's mind, especially one so...

On a boring beach, and how Wordsworth teaches us to give experience time and space.

How 'Wilding' has thrown me off the forest track.

A poem from me about rail worker Belly Mujinga, who died after an incident at Victoria.

My thoughts on the failure of language to express our fears during Covid-19.

So, let’s make it clear I’m not claiming to be Anthony Trollope, pictured here in this early cartoon. But we share at least one thing...

How The Seekers got me thinking. Reflections on the death of a neighbour.