Biography of Alan Hodgson
Born next door to nowhere, and still here. The longest-lived mayfly in history! Nothing like good music, decent food and a place to unwind, preferably on some hill top with a fine wind blowing, whatever the season. Either that or on some gull-wracked clifftop staring out across the North Sea, into the past. Like someone once said, I'm a writer not a fighter, but don't push me, OK? Now let's get on with it....
Alan Hodgson's Works:
The Phantoms of 3000 Years
Alan Hodgson Poems
Across a sunlit summer’s lawn came a happy, laughing child; Hair tousled, face wreathed in smiles, blue eyes shining with true simplicity.
Under a cataclysmic sky they sheltered from a wind so hot it burned the leaves to ashes as they watched in fascinated horror.
When early springtime’s night winds sing around the steaming cattle byre, And smoke curls high through wicker slats above the dancing roundhouse fire;
Across a sunlit summer’s lawn came a happy, laughing child;
Hair tousled, face wreathed in smiles,
blue eyes shining with true simplicity.
Together they watched her awkward gait, her protruding jaw and lips;
they compared notes on her behaviour
and yesterday’s strong epileptic fit.
Angelman sighed as he pocketed his pen, observing to the nurse: