The Percy Lion

It’s said a lion roams the lands,
Since they came to Percy’s hands,
Of whom the lion took his name,
Has curl of tail and silver mane.
This lonely beast once was found,
Guarding territory of Alnwick grounds,
A roar feared by the southern crowd,
This lion’s pride is one and proud.
A humble Knight, a majestic thing,
They call old Percy, the Northern King.

The Lion is the sigil of the Percy Family, whose genealogy can be traced back almost 1000 years. The family still have residence in Alnwick Castle, but throughout history also occupied near-by Warkworth. Statues and coats of arms of the Lion can be seen throughout Northumberland.

This is part 2 of the Story of the Northlands! I hope you will follow to see more to come.



The Untold Stories of the Northlands

In the Northlands Ancient old,
Where castle keeps defend their hold,
Where many a great battle fought,
But the fear was set from what they brought,
For magic comes from blood that’s shed,
And spawns from souls lost and dead.
The whispers spread throughout the wars,
Of monsters, myths, beasts and boars,
They says there’s truth in what stories hold,
And now to you they shall be told.
But I warn you now these stories aren’t,
For those who have the faint of heart.

Since writing The Untold Stories of Scotland it has been in the back of my mind to warn you of the perils that lie in Northumberland! There’s monsters here that must be seen to believed, but I advise you not to seek trouble from these creatures. Instead I suggest you follow and read the stories I tell you, for if you ever face such beasts like the Percy Lion, you will know exactly what to do. So follow me and discover, the Untold stories of the Northlands!


Where The Sidewalk Ends – Review

Where the sidewalk Ends

Author/Illustrator: Shel Silverstein
Publisher: Harper and Row, 1974
Genre: Children’s Poetry
My Rating: 5/5

Where the sidewalk ends is one of many works by the American poet: Sheldon Allan Silverstein. A collection of poetry aimed at the younger audience, it’s the perfect book for a quick read to share will all the family, for a laugh or a story (or 10) before bed!

My Opinion
I am massively influenced by Shel poetry and will definitely look into his other books and cartoons. He writes about everything from a brontosaurus to a run-away beard. But the book would not be complete without the Black and White illustrations (drew by Shel also). They add humor and explanation and turn a simple poem into something enjoyable to read and look at. His poems are sometimes nonsense, sometimes they boggle your mind, they are incredibly witty and they will certainly make you chuckle! Whatever your age! I recommend this book to everyone who’s inner child lives on, people who are sometimes just a little silly and those with families with all ages! It’s perfect for bedtimes!

My Highlights;
A few of my favorites from the book.

Chester came to school and said,
“Durn, I growed another head.”
Teacher said “it’s time you knowed,
The word is ‘grew’ instead of ‘growed’.”

My skin is kind of sort of brownish,
Pinkish yellowish white.
My eyes are greyish blueish green,
But I’m told they look orange in the night.
My hair is reddish blondish brown,
But it’s silver when it’s wet,
And all the colours I am inside,
Have not been invented yet.

The Trouble With Geraniums

A stone set in the labyrinth of Alnwick Gardens, it reads – only dead fish swim with the sea.

I discovered a new poem today that I would like to share with you. The author is Mervyn Peake, a fantastic poet and I have placed his book ‘A book of Nonsense’ high on my list of things to buy. He is also illustrator of classics such as Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland, The Swiss Family Robinson and Treasure Island, but I would like to bring to your attention ‘The Trouble With Geraniums’ simply because I love it…

The trouble with geraniums
is that they’re much too red!
The trouble with my toast is that
it’s far too full of bread.

The trouble with a diamond
is that it’s much too bright.
The same applies to fish and stars
and the electric light.

The troubles with the stars I see
lies in the way they fly.
The trouble with myself is all
self-centred in the eye.

The trouble with my looking-glass
is that it shows me, me;
there’s trouble in all sorts of things
where it should never be.

– Please note this is not my own work, poem can be found at
– The photograph is my own

The Fairytale of the Tooth People

Watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who do not believe in magic will never find it
– Roald Dahl

Have you ever wondered?
Why a fairy would want some teeth?
To sneak under your pillow?
And swap for 50p?

As my tooth began to wobble,
And wobble as teeth can,
I thought up a new idea,
I hatched an evil plan!

These fairy folk that invade my bed,
And take things as I sleep,
I will catch these thieving creatures,
And ask about my teeth!

I wriggled, I prodded, I brushed, I bit,
Until it fell right out my head,
And I popped my little pearly white,
Under the pillow on my bed.

I lay that night with eyes tight shut,
Pretending to be asleep,
Soon, maybe, I might have caught,
A fairy of mine to keep!

And caught I did, in a jar,
My fairy that very night,
I peeped through the glass,
As I sealed the lid on tight.

These Mythical fairy people,
Are not as expected they’d be like,
They’re wrinkly and quite ugly,
And about three inches in height.

She wasn’t pink and pretty,
Or as cheerful as they say,
She was a tiny little old lady,
In a magic kind of way.

So I got up really close,
And looked her straight in the eye,
I shouted “you have took my tooth”,
“And I want to know well… Why?”

She didn’t answer my question,
But instead gave out a grumble,
“This isn’t going to be easy”,
I said with a sort of mumble.

So I brought my fairy a cupcake,
To offer a kind of truce,
But she turned up her little nose,
And said “that will rot my tooth”

I told the tiny lady,
Help me if you please,
To solve this little mystery
And I promise to set you free.

“It’s strange to me – A human,
Why imps would steal a tooth,
But please tell me the reason,
I’d like to know the truth.”

She looked at me through her glasses,
Which rested upon her nose,
Then she sat upon a thimble,
And said this it how it goes…

I will tell you tiny human,
All you want to know,
The story of your teeth,
But then you must let me go.

My fairy people need me,
And there’s plenty to be done,
So set me free by sunrise,
Cos I’m allergic to the sun.

As she told the story,
She whizzed around my room,
And told me that her people
Live right up on the moon.

I listened to what she said
But it came as a bit of a shock,
“You cannot live on the moon,
Why there’s nothing there but rock!”

”Hidden in a crater,
In the shadows and the dark,
Rest our fairy village.
And it’s called the fae park.”

That’s nonsense I repeated,
Cos fairies live in the woods,
She assured me that they didn’t,
And would show me if she could.

“These fairies you’ve been told about,
Or read about in books,
They collect the food we eat,
They’re called the mushroom troops.”

They pick the poisonous mushrooms,
The ones you cannot eat,
And bring them back to fae town,
Where we have a fae feast.

Each Fairy has purpose,
I collect your tooth,
I take it back to fae ville,
To build and repair our roof.

Our ancesters discovered,
They were perfect cos they’re strong,
Nobody really wants them,
And you don’t use them when they’re gone.

From houses to our bridges,
And every arch we walk through,
We stick it all together,
With gum and dental glue!

But, the brightest teeth of all,
The most brilliant and most white,
We place up in the sky,
To be the stars at night.

I listened in fascination,
As she neared the end,
For the story here before you,
You must thank my fairy friend.

She had kept her promise,
So I kept mine too,
I opened up the window,
And out the fairy flew.

So next time your tooth does wobble,
And wobble as teeth can,
Place that tooth under your pillow,
For the fairy folk to have.

The Grim

We all posses a fear,
Something that makes us recoil and scream when it’s remotely near,
for some of us it’s heights, clowns or a creepy crawly thing,
But for me, it has to be, definitely, the grim.

It’s certainly not human, animal, being or creature,
It doesn’t have a smell, sound or distinguishing feature,
So how can you be afraid if you can’t see it or feel
It’s the grim and I tell you it’s very much real.

The grim is a product of the imagination,
A kinda feeling you get, a simply horrible sensation,
It feeds on misery and guilt and from it, it grows,
Until it controls your emotions, that’s when grim shows.

It corrupts your brain, to make you feel the worst,
Makes you doubt yourself and that your whole life is cursed,
Makes you feel insignificant and small,
And sometimes the grim makes you feel nothing at all.

It’s when your alone and you feel a cold stare,
It’s that sense you get there’s somebody there,
It’s that lump in your throat when you just want to cry,
You can’t control the grim no matter how hard you try!

The thing about the grim, is it isn’t around for long,
It takes a smile and some encouragement to say “you know what, you’re wrong”,
And beating the grim is one hell of a strife,
But the grim is just simply A part of our life.

Javisnail’s Big Adventure

The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.
Saint Augustine

Javi the snail was a peculiar creature,
With a lovely pink shell,
And blue little features.

One day he thought ‘I want to leave home’,
And travel the world,
All on my own.

The thing about snails, is they don’t have to pack,
Because everything they need,
Is right there on their back.

So he started his journey in the country of France,
“Well this is quite nice”,
He said at first glance.

But Javi didn’t feel like he was very safe,
As he met his match,
On the dinner plate.

So Javi left Paris via the Eurostar train,
And got off at London,
Where it started to rain.

He saw Big Ben and said hello to the queen,
“But London” he said,
“Isn’t really my scene”.

So Javisnail searched for another great city,
And slipped onto a plane,
Heading for Italy.

 But Javi left there as soon as he knew,
The country was shaped,
Like a big stomping shoe.

On the plane he remembered the leaning tower of Pisa,
And couldn’t quite wait,
To see the pyramids of Giza.

 He trekked the Sahara on the back of a camel,
But when it spat in his face,
He shouted “you horrible mammal”.

Javi then visted the United States,
And decided New York,
Was his favourite Place.

 He followed route 66 and left his own trail,
But where was next,
For this little snail?

Next stop for Javi was to the North Pole,
“Oh gosh” he cried,
This is far too cold.

He visited Santa, but it was time to go,
Because Javi was Spanish,
And he hated the snow.

He searched the globe from east to west,
His journey was over,
There was nowhere left.

So Javisnail had traveled the world on his own,
But now he was glad,
To be back at home.