Over the Fields

Lucy Furlong, her Dad and her son have been purposefully exploring and experiencing anew their local strip of greenbelt, which sits on the borders of Surrey and Greater London, and is bisected by the River Hogsmill.

Known by generations of the Furlong family as ‘Over the Fields’, it was a recognisably rural reminder of Ireland for Lucy’s paternal grandparents, who arrived in Tolworth from their native Wexford, during the Second World War.

For her dad, Nicholas, it was his and his siblings’ ‘second home’, a place for adventures and escapades, when they were growing up in the 1950s and 1960s; and where Lucy and her sister walked with Gran, and spent time with the rest of their family and friends.



My debut poetry pamphlet is published by Hesterglock Press, a wonderful small press based in Bristol.
clew is named after the ball of thread Ariadne gave to Theseus to help him find his way out of the Labyrinth.

"Wildly inventive and multifaceted, Lucy Furlong’s poems crackle with energy, leaping from Camden to Kreuzberg to a dancefloor in Hell… these poems showcase a distinctive, exciting new voice."Jane Yeh; writer and poet

"Furlong’s poems, defiantly desirous, follow their own strong thread, through a smaller europe, into panoramic cupboards, to the secret corners of a dark suburban garden."Penny Goring; artist

£5.00 plus P&P

Scratching The Surface Of The Amniotic City.

A City awash with feeling, topography of the Goddess. History in the cracks, a glimpse of green between the earth and sky still exists through an open door, where X marks the spot for a conversation with Her. The River Fleet runs deep under the City carrying the hopes and dreams of the workers scurrying across its surface, held in the belly of a sleeping female, waiting to be reborn.

AMNIOTIC CITY was written on several wanders around the environs of St Paul’s Cathedral and the Temple, between Spring Equinox and Summer Solstice 2011.


From Cheapside to the Temple, a twenty minute linear walk or a timeless spiral of discovery? Crammed with some of London’s most famous landmarks, history and heritage, and apparently riddled with psychogeographers. Can there be any more clues which need uncovering?

In a series of explorations, Lucy Furlong maps out her experiences of walking around Ludgate Hill and Fleet Street, poking her nose in the nooks, passageways and liminal spaces therein. Weaving what she finds there with her own experiences of being a mother, daughter, lover ~ a woman~ in this familiar and strange landscape.

Thirteen poems conceived with a pinch and a punch of salt, a gentle rule break here and there, a dose of irreverence, a sense of mystery and the odd revelation.