My own wild places ...

Driving to Salisbury, I thought of Roger Deacon - wildness, he'd said, may be found near at hand - there was no need to seek out mountains or seal haunted islands - 

I thought of my own wild places, those nearby, which were precious to me - 

I thought of wild swimming at Winspit, the bright green kelp brushing against my legs - 

I thought of listening to the cries of sea birds at Arne, of stretching out in the sand dunes behind the beach at Studland, looking upwards at the cloudless August sky, sand dusting my skin - 

In time to come, I knew, these places would sustain me - 

One day in the future, perhaps soon, dear faces would dissolve into shadows, then darkness - 

"There is wildness everywhere, if only we stop in our tracks and look around us"

Roger Deacon, quoted by Peter Macfarlane in "The Wild Places"

11.00

February 28 2015 

Gazing at the mural ...

Whenever I'm in Wareham, the chances are that I'll pass by this mural - I'll be on my way to Sainsburys, to buy some olives, or Golden Champion, and I'll glance up and see the wide eyed nun or the axe wielding Dane - 

I've found sanctuary in this gentle town - when my blood showed its dark secrets, the quiet streets gave me shelter - angels sang for me from the weathervanes when I was granted my reprieve - 

This morning, after my time in the gym, I greeted the deep chested Roman - the sky was the blue of a sky in a dream - the river water shone like glass - 

11.00

27 February 2015

South Street 

Wareham 

Isle of Purbeck

Captain Hawkins' melancholy memorial ...

Once inside the church, I stood still, aware of the stone beneath my feet, the welling up of time like water in a spring - I could sense the movement of the sun and moon above the tower, the passage of the seasons - 

I gazed upwards at the roof, imagining prayers rising there like smoky feathers - 

The walls were whitewashed - a painted wooden panel depicted a bearded king playing a harp - 

I breathed in the chill air, feeling it leave pearls inside my chest - ancient light filled the nave - 

The Bible was opened at Isaiah - I murmured the names of four kings of Judah, Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah - 

I stood before Captain Hawkins' melancholy memorial - 

I heard, even in this quiet valley, the sound of a tempest - freezing spray lashed my face - the church reeled upon a tumultuous sea - 

11.00

February 18 2015

Martinstown

Dorset 

The Nine Stones, Winterbourne Abbas...

When I ten years old, an artless boy, cloaked in happiness, I'd visited this place - 

Now, five decades later, lean, with a shock of dazzlingly white hair, still looking for wonders, I'd returned - 

I remembered sitting cross legged upon the bright grass - nearby, tiny fish shone in a clear fast flowing stream - I was on a school trip - we'd stopped for lunch - I ate the marmite and cucumber sandwiches my mum had made for me - my heart quivered inside my chest - everything I saw was bathed in warm golden light - 

The stones were still dreaming their strange ancient dreams - 

Penny noticed the offerings placed upon the stones, a sprig of rosemary, gleaming pebbles - 

A salty wind blew through a wood of leafless trees - 

Time was different here, I thought - I sensed its movement, its swirling currents, its immense calms - I saw my younger self, shy and watchful, in its shallows - 

12.00

February 18 2015

The Nine Stones

Winterbourne Abbas 

Dorset

Shaping stones on the South Dorset Ridgeway ...

Yesterday, when cast into a sad revery, I remembered walking on a high chalk ridge, gazing down upon the sea - 

The sky was full of darkening cloud - we followed the ridgeway past tumuli and leafless trees - wind stirred the grass - a kestrel hung in the air like a beautiful fury - 

We'd spoken to a woman repairing a dry stone wall - she shaped stone with a pale chisel, her strong fingers full of old knowledge - 

We walked on, towards Four Barrow Hill - seagulls gathered upon a newly ploughed field - we lowered our heads against the wind - beneath our feet the chalk was as white and hard as bone - 

12.00

February 18 2015

South Dorset Ridgeway

Above Martinstown

The light of Angel Lane ...

Walking towards the Catholic Church, I passed by Angel Lane - the sky had cleared of cloud - the small stone houses were bathed in light - each house was a nest of dreams and memory -

The same wonderful light filled the church - I listened to ancient words - I gazed upon familiar and unknown faces - I looked up towards heaven, longing for certainty - 

I prayed for grace, that my shadow be cast away from me - 

I thought of the valiant soul who had just left this world - my heart quivered with the mystery of her passing - 

11.30

23 February 2015

Wincanton

Memories like raindrops slipping down a misted glass ...

This afternoon we looked at sofas - Woods Furniture was almost empty, each of its three floors like a stage set - a sultry temptress might loll upon that sofa bed - a haunted poet might gaze into that mirror - any moment, I thought, the strange performances would begin - 

Large clocks had frozen hands - outside, rain fell on Dortchester - rainwater ran down the pavements - Anne's umbrella was blown inside out - Sophie wore a tall velvet hat - 

Later we ate Dorset Apple Cake in the Reloved Tearooms - I heard Glen Miller and the Squadronaires playing Moonlight Serenade - 

Tomorrow, I would hear profound Latin words - memories would be like raindrops slipping down a misted glass - 

15.30

February 22 2015

Reloved Tearooms

Dortchester

Voyaging in the dark ...

"you look at everything and you don't see it only sometimes you see it like now I see - a cold moon looking down on a place where nobody is a place full of stones where nobody is"

Jean Rhys

Voyage in the Dark

I've just finished reading Voyage in the Dark - I still feel chilled by loneliness - it's as though I've been listening to pure yet terrifyingly sad music - 

I think that I'll dream I'm waiting in an attic room - from the windows, I'll see a grey city with no green going on forever - 

I'll lie in a frozen bed, and pull the sheet over my head -  

17 - 19 February 2015

In my head

The Old School House

East Stoke

Purbeck

Remembering reading The Voyage of The Dawn Treader ...

Just before my cousin Mike phoned me, I was watching Eustace fall asleep on dragon hoarded gold -  

I remembered when I first read The Voyage of The Dawn Treader worlds ago - I longed to board the noble galleass, to dine with a fallen star, to see merpeople riding seahorses - 

There was a plan of the vessel on the front endpapers of my treasured volume  - a brave pennant flew from her mast - a lantern was suspended from the crows nest - the sharp prow cut through the billows of the Eastern Ocean - 

When Mike phoned me, Eustace had turned into a dragon - his scaly wings filled the flat TV screen - his boy's body was now hidden inside monstrous coils - 

I recalled how I'd felt whilst reading this book -  

I still could see the pictures in the magician's grimoire - I shuddered again at the thought of The Island Where Dreams Come True - I heard the sound of an enormous pair of scissors opening and closing - 

21.00

February 18 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Isle of Purbeck 

The gentle sadness of Charity Shops ...

Whenever I visit a Charity Shop, a gentle sadness fills my heart - bereaved cardigans remember the frail torsos they once covered - photograph frames recall beloved faces - a stilled dansette gathers dust - 

Today I donated an electric razor to a Sue Ryder Charity Shop - a man with a stick preceded me inside - I looked at his large knobbly hands and then at my own - 

Each item of clothing in the shop whispered its story to me - each shirt, each blouse, each dress, were mute elegies, tender reminders of recent ghosts - 

14.15

17 February 2015

South Street

Wareham

24 hour Tesco ...

I slipped out of the silent house before breakfast - my dad was upstairs, reading one of his reminder notes - 

In next door's back garden there were figurines of meerkats - 

I walked past The Prince of Wales - 

Small dark birds were perched upon the topmost twigs of a leafless tree - 

Parked cars filled the narrow street - a wild eyed boy sipped a caffeine drink from a lurid can - 

The 24 hours Tesco was like the spaceport I'd seen on the cover of a foxed Weird Tales - 

I was soon bathed in strange light - pale custodians spoke to me in hushed voices - 

08.15

February 16 2015

Havant