SOME while ago, I was talking to Worcester councillor Andy Roberts about the 1651 battlefield at Lower Wick.

He told me that as a boy, he had snagged his fishing line on what some said were the remains of the foundations to Cromwell’s bridge of boats. This seems eminently feasible to me. I must admit that I often entertain thoughts of finding something on one of my frequent walks. Yes, it’s all very fanciful… the chances of finding a musket ball or sword buckle must be pretty remote after all these years.

All the same, it would be fitting if the location of the rumoured burial pits could one day be established – and even more so if such a discovery could be made in this anniversary year.

*THIRTY years ago this summer, I started a new job on your Worcester News’s sister paper the Evesham Journal. I had just been involved in a protracted strike and was lucky to get work after being blacklisted during the dispute.

This summer, I met up with some old campaigners and we generally agreed how different the climate – and political realities – were in those days. Today, you can be a New Labour devotee and a businessman at the same time… something that would have been a complete contradiction in terms back then.

Whatever would Karl Marx have said about that?

*TALKING of the bearded bore, it is a truism to say that old Marxists never die, they just become humanists.

Like the deathbed conversion to Christianity, many latecomers to the paths of self-righteousness often continue committing any number of sins but carefully absolve all guilt with a handy bit of self-styling.

Catholics have their incense, Protestants use none… and humanists make do with the fragrant fume of hypocrisy.

*AS many of you have gathered following Mike Pryce’s article in your Worcester News, my First World War narrative titled The Shilling was published as an e-book earlier this year.

Coincidentally, a journalist colleague from my Warwickshire days tells me has just had his book reprinted. We met up at a party and – strange to relate – his book is called For a Shilling a Day.

Old soldiers never die… as long as there are old hacks like us willing to lend an ear.