HeyJaredSwallows and Crows
The smell of seaweed on the beach, when you first saw the sea and heard seagulls overhead. Daily melodies of brine and rusted harbours, and a weekly post to be read with a cup of tea. If you’re drawn to the sea’s quieter voice, you’re at home here.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 10
- Latest publication
- Sep 21, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 9, 2026
Latest issues
Lost... (opens the original)
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15 years ago I managed to lose my two most valued possessions.A cassette from my childhood telephone’s answer-machine with my dad’s voice on it and my mum’s record from 1989.Mum was a concert organist. She died when she was only 44. Something that really sinks in now that I am older than she got to be. Brutal.She recorded an album in London in the late 1980s. I was only little when she died and I only really remember her through her music and particularly that record. As a teenager when I missed
I may have had a few too many 🍺🍻 (opens the original)
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I think I fell in love, but that might have been the cider…There is an old ship’s figurehead in the dockyard in Falmouth. She is not far from one of the pubs that I like drink in, so I am often meandering by to say hello (especially after the odd pint of Rattlers). Recently I decided to write a song about her. I have heard that she brings good luck, and that sailors used to pay their respects to her before they left for sea. But that was a story I heard from someone who had had quite a few pints
Take me home (opens the original)
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Last year I was working away in Antarctica. I know that that is very cool, and that I am a very lucky boy but…. I was desperately homesick.I write every day. A bit like a creative journal I suppose. I focus mainly on the senses - I write about a moment - but I concentrate on the sight, sound, smell, touch and taste of the experience.It has become my therapy. What started as a creative exercise to help with lyric writing has become my most honest and open writing. One morning I wrote about Cornwa
Home (opens the original)
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I wrote home when I was away working in Antarctica. I was very homesick and I still had a couple of months to go before heading home.I write creatively every day - a bit like a journal I suppose. It is a cross between a creative exercise to help with lyric writing and free therapy. It has become a lovely habit for starting my day. I normally choose a word at random to write about but because I was missing home, one morning I wrote my creative exercise about Cornwall. And the first thing I wrote
Rose. Thorn. Bud. (opens the original)
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Me and my kids play a game when we’re on an ‘adventure’.Rose, Bud, Thorn. And we tend to do it towards the end of our epic adventure like a, er… holiday or a camping trip (I know, I know - maybe not that epique…).We take it in turns to say The Rose (the thing we have enjoyed the most), The Thorn (the thing we liked the least) and The Bud (the thing we are looking forward to doing next).We have just canoed 80 kilometres down the Dordogne. Which might not sound a lot to you, but at times it defini
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