Colin Fell

It’s August 1960, a world in black and white; the British summer echoes to the sounds of The Shadows’ Apache , Hank Marvin’s echoey,...

One thing I have in common with my friend Prince Hamlet of Elsinore is a rather pessimistic view of elections. Hamlet felt he’d been...

Orpheus, his heart beating a little faster, turns and looks back; Eve, her hand trembling ever so slightly, stretches out a hand, for a...

Don’t you get bored, teaching the same thing? It’s the question I usually get at parties when people realise I’m a teacher. That’s...

It’s August 1960, a world in black and white; the British summer echoes to the sounds of The Shadows’ Apache, Hank Marvin’s echoey,...

“F*** off you ******* fat *****.” These bellowed words, minus their editorial asterisks, hung strangely in the scented, pristine early...

I’m thrilled that Simone Hellier and John Thomson have recorded John’s setting of my poem Piano, along with the other four poems detailed...

Novels set in Cornwall are hardly unusual, swarming like summer emmets across booksellers’ shelves; but good ones which captivate and...

Here's a link to the concert performance from October 2022 https://youtu.be/UJ2Y1Rk_qg0 For a long time, I wrote no poetry. Like, I...

Not even Liz Truss’s greatest admirers- and she must have some, despite becoming Prime Minister without the support of the electorate, or...

Tomorrow morning, nearly 800000 young adults will finally discover the outcome of those exams they took way back in the early summer, in...

It was with a sense of keen anticipation, yet not, I recognised, unmixed with dread, that I approached Pugin Towers, the home of my old...

Two shadowy, gowned figures stand together in close converse; they’re apprehensive- there’s a problem, and a possible solution- but will...

Throughout that summer, the city waited uneasily; its citizens aware of the rumours of invasion. But surely it would never happen? Surely...

For it appeared to Sirob the Duke as though he had remained, entombed, incarcerated and immured within the stony chambers of the...

It’s 1970, and I’m probably huddled on the floor by the dining room fireplace, unlit despite the sharp Northern winter, with my portable...

I suppose most of us have photographs of Victorian ancestors tucked away somewhere- in a trunk, in the attic, chilled by the winter...

My first passport was to me a thing of wonder. Robust, and black, it felt like a small book, expressive of a nation state which still...

In her right hand, right being traditionally associated with correctness, orthodoxy, skill, dexterity, the young woman is holding a...

One unknowable and undated day in about 1860, someone stood amidst the bloody abbatoirs of Penzance’s Bread Street, surveyed the rough...