Annie is a lassie from Lancashire, at heart, but a traveler, too, who enjoys people as well as places. She writes (poems – as you can see), paints (acrylics), draws (chalk pastels) and montages. Not a singer (no Gracie), but a writer of Songs (at Midnight). And for fun and charity, she may drop in on you, abseiling from height.
Ian is a Londoner by birth, who has spent most of his life either getting to know the place or getting away from it. He now lives in Perth, Western Australia, which is about as far away as you can get, but he returns to the United Kingdom regularly for a fix of his English/Scottish/Welsh heritage.
aaeiinnn is Annie and Ian’s shared persona. She/he has no being except in these pages; no gender; no place. He/she is a virtual being, borne of the internet. Like all complex constructs, the outcome could not have been predicted from the components. The whole is truly more than the sum of the parts. See all at our redbubble site.
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Stained with the blood of love
Story of a Cemetary
New tomorrows
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this is also under my name annieannie
Can this be our last embrace / Never more to see your face / Will you leave behind no trace / How then shall I go on / No word no sigh / …
for those who have a hidden child within
Dyno the DynoSawRus / Dyno the DynoSawRus was having a bad hair day well at least he was struggling to get some sticky toffee pudding off h…
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Paddy was in salubrious soliloquy when Caitlin arrived. She heard him as she quietly entered by the stage door using her passkey. No one el…
how many of you recognise this – i cannotfi…
The man that seeks a woman’s heart / Must first address her mind / For only when possessed of that / Will he be sure to find / A precious…