People get planning permission for all sorts of things, but a harmless old man can’t get planning permission to live this simple way of life, out in the woods with his plants and his animals and his trees and the deer that ate out of his hand. He was a Hermit. It’s an ancient occupation.
There’s always enough money for wars, royal weddings, and MPs expenses, it seems; never enough for the needs of ordinary people going about their ordinary lives
Originally posted on Whitstable Views:
I’m sitting in the Whitstable Labour Club, looking at the board above the fireplace on which is written the names of the honorary and founder life members. Of the 33 names up there, I recognise 19. So, just to give you a flavour: there’s Peter Seymour, who had been a…