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It would be hard to find poetry like this down South. This is very much northern poetry in its best sense – aware of inequalities and of humble beauty, expressed with a wry awareness; poems written with tender, self-mocking observations of motorway sidings, miners in clubs, a thrush fallen out of its next too early and a lost love.

About Geoff Tomlinson

Geoff Tomlinson was born in Barnoldswick, West Yorkshire, and brought up in Burnley, Lancashire. His parents were cotton weavers, but the family had been dairy farmers, a tradition his brother Jack continued. He taught in Lancashire and Dorset before moving to County Durham as a lecturer. Casual work has included being a roller-carrier in a mill, a postman, milk roundsman, market gardener, farmhand, literature examiner and small press (Platform Poets) editor. Relics of these experiences may crop up anywhere in his poems, along with references to Art and Music. He has published poems and stories in a range of magazines and the dichotomies between town and country and between academia and a working-class upbringing are evident in much of his work. One of his stories is in the Mudfog ‘Discoverers’ anthology.

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