The Rollator ...

I saw the rollator in the hallway, next to the telephone table - 

My dad won't use the rollator - 

It makes me look old he told the OT - watch me walk - 

My mum took a few moments to recognise Anne - 

I sat on the sofa of memory holding my mum's hand - 

She said sometimes when I come back from the shop with the trolley, I say, please God, let me see someone I know - 

When I walked around Waitrose, every shopper was twinned with their older self - 

Even children were followed by flickering stooping shadows - 

12.15

Sunday May 31 2015

Staunton Road 

Havant

Hampshire 

Angels in a camper van ...

 

The car park behind Sainsburys is now brimming with opulent Mitsubishi Shoguns -  

Tattooed bravos from the holiday park swagger into the Black Bear for karaoke and Ringwood Best - 

Delicate Tarquins buy oysters in The Salt Pig - 

From time to time a camper van will park next to a shiny Kia Sportage - I'll admire its louche bodywork - Huarache Lights  will be playing on the van stereo -  

A lean dad will emerge - he'll be wearing Ray Bans - his wife will wear a green dress -

Two barefoot children will scamper into Sainsburys - perhaps there'll be a dog, a keen lurcher, with them - 

I'll imagine then driving down to Sennen Cove in a tiger striped camper van - 

Anne will be wearing a necklace of blue stones - I'll wear a straw trilby - 

I think I'll put Downtown Lights on the stereo - 

19.00

Tuesday 26 May 2015

Sainsburys Car Park

Wareham

Purbeck 

Gallows Corner ...

It was my turn to choose the walk this week - Milton Abbas, I'd said - we'll see Gallows Corner - 

White cottages lined the village street - each lawn was a green silky skin -

The churchyard was a gentle wildness of lichened tombstones - birds sang in quiet trees - 

We followed ancient paths through fields of green wheat - 

We smelled wild garlic under sycamore trees - brimstone butterflies danced over coppiced hazel - 

Forgotten lanes were bordered by waist high cow parsley and red campion - flint lay upon the chalky earth like fragments of primeval bone - 

We pushed open gates of rusted iron - 

At last we came to Gallows Corner - 

Three paths met there - there was nothing to see, no shapes half hidden in the air - 

But still I felt uneasy, almost afraid - 

Let's drink our coffee somewhere else Penelope said - 

12.00

Thursday 28 2015

Gallows Corner

Dorset 

Talking Trees ...

I parked the red Peugeot in the sunlit courtyard - at first I was unsure which door I had to open - 

A tree in the centre of the courtyard was hung with sonnets, each poem an eternal fruit - 

Old stones were warmed by the late morning sun - 

I followed a slender white haired woman into the old flour mill - 

The high roof was supported by a pale web of beams - the black bones of old machinery were visible - 

All around me was a murmuring glade - 

Birds fashioned from paper landed upon shards of driftwood - tiny glowing portraits were hung upon a wall of delicate greenery - 

I gazed upon a elfin face crowned with delicate golden leaves - 

A ball gown was made from pages torn from romantic novels - a mannequin wore a bravo's coat - 

A naked man and woman were fashioned from knotted wood - 

I walked ensorcelled, wreathed in ivy, talking to trees - 

11.45

Wednesday 27 2015

Talking Trees

Visual Art Installation

Kingston Country Courtyard

Kingston

Purbeck 

If you look long enough, you'll see faces ...

I apologise for the uniform the artist said -

He was wearing distressed yet elegant dungarees - he had a cap of silky hair - 

I'd driven down a lane between slender trees - the house was one of pale shining stone - 

It was Purbeck Art Week - I'd gazed at seascapes in lichened barns, a hare dancing under a starry sky, a statue of a boy as Pan, wild eyed and smooth skinned - 

Now I was looking at abstract paintings in a high ceilinged studio - 

I stood before a canvas of blue dreamy strangeness - 

If you look long enough the artist said you'll see faces - 

15.00

Tuesday 26 May 2015

The Cottage Studio

Heather Lodge 

Norden

Corfe Castle

Dorset 

Just after sunset ...

It was just after sunset - I heard birdsong in the forgiving garden - 

There were pine cones scattered upon the grass - I could smell lilac blossom - 

Mist stole across the water meadows - the river reflected the beautiful wounded sky - 

A half-moon shone above the silent dreaming earth - 

20.45

Sunday 24 May 2015

East Stoke

Dorset 

The last steam train ...

We stood upon the footbridge, looking down upon the last steam train of the day - 

The green locomotive nudged its five carriages into the station - 

No one stepped out upon the platform - 

Steam hung in the air over the 3470 Manston - its iron sinews dripped oil - 

The door to the station master's parlour was locked and barred - 

Bright posters depicted resorts blessed with pristine dazzling sands - 

I thought of Len, wielding a narrow bladed shovel, master of steam, fire and water - 

17.30

Saturday 25 May 2015

Corfe Castle Railway Station

Dorset

Thinking about dancing ...

I'm snarfing Walkers cheese and onion crisps, woozy after bumpers of Wainwright - 

Paul and Sophie are thinking about bands for the reception - 

I'm all for Nakisha Esnard - 

This morning we checked out the village hall - David Hollister leapt out his low slung sled - charming as ever, he gave us  the guided tour - 

How shall we choreograph the dancing? Sophie asks - 

Three young rabbits steal into the dreaming garden - 

20.55

Sunday 24 May 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset

Waiting for George and Linda ...

We're waiting for George and Linda, sitting under the new parasol - 

I've just mowed the fragrant grass - a boy is playing frisbee in the churchyard - 

I can hear birdsong - cows are gazing in the field next to the small cemetery - 

May blossoms scent the warm air - I can see the pale church tower - 

Sophie and Paul are with George and Linda - they're now on the Weymouth train from Waterloo - 

Soon I will be wearing two suits, one light blue, one dark - 

There will be dancing on a day of joy, remembrance of bright days on a day of ending - 

16.53

Saturday 23 May 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset

Finding a map of Graceland ...

We've been spring cleaning like Mole in Mole End this week - George and Linda are spending the weekend with us - 

We've polished and dusted, swept away delicate empires of woodlice, thrown away cobwebbed gowns - 

I found mysterious bottles in the cupboard under the stairs - 

Anne found a map of Graceland in Tessa's bedroom - 

I heard the song by Paul Simon in my head - 

We were all, I thought, on our way to Graceland - 

It might even be found here, under these gentle rain clouds -

11.00

Friday 22 May 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Purbeck

The Book of Remembrance ...

We spent a few moments inside the church - they were not yet ready for us at Willow Lodge - 

We sat under bright windows - Anne went outside, to ring Jane on her mobile - 

I read a page from a Book of Remembrance - 

I murmured the names of the dead young men - 

By one name were the words P.O.W Japanese Hands and the date 28 7 43 -

I closed my eyes - I heard pitiless voices - the smell of the jungle filled the nave -

16.00

Monday 18 May 2015

St John's 

Southbourne

Hampshire 

The Roman road, memory like smoke ...

There - this is the Roman road said Penny -  

I could smell May blossom - we'd walked through deep woods - two girls, sitting high on deep chested horses, had passed us on the bridleway - a deer had gazed at me with a strange gentleness - 

The straight track ran before us between banks of cow parsley - trees cast dancing shade - 

Once Eagles had been carried here - 

The wind blew long memory against my face like smoke - 

13.00

Wednesday 20 2015

Corfe Millen

Dorset

Snarfing pork pies ...

Between care homes, we had lunch in The Ship Inn - 

It was high tide - choppy water lapped salt rimed stone - rain clouds filled the sky - 

A gang of brawny oldsters joshed each other - 

A silverback wearing magnificent brogues pointed to his chum -

We're the only two under seventy seven he roared - 

Anne and I snarfed pork pies like LA cops in a steamy patrol car - 

Soon we would walk around another day room, lined with chairs - 

I would try to avoid the gazes of watery vacant eyes - 

14.00

Monday 18 May 2015

The Ship Inn

Langstone

Hampshire 

 

Sunday evening in The King's Arms ...

Richard and I sipped our tasters - 

I heard a sad jukebox - 

The young Irishman recommended Lancaster Bomber or Proper Job - 

We chose Proper Job - 

We pushed our way through ghosts to a roughly hewn settle - 

We lifted our straight glasses like half pay captains - 

Sunday evening lay its kindly cloak upon the town - 

21.15

Sunday 18 May 2015

The King's Arms

Wareham

Purbeck

We felt our years, like wings upon our backs ...

Richard and I visited the small cemetery at Moreton this afternoon - 

We'd come to see the grave of T E  Lawrence - 

Later, we would cross the river, to follow a straight track through the pines - 

Gazing at the white stone set over illustrious dust, we felt our years like wings upon our backs - 

They would carry us away, far from our precious hearths - 

15.00

Sunday 17 May 2015

Moreton

Dorset

Polar Wood ...

We parked the red Peugeot in the shade of tall trees - 

Richard spoke of walking the Camino de Santiago - I imagined him standing before the soaring Cathedral, a white shell fastened to his coat - 

We walked up to Polar Wood - fields of rape were yellow sails under a bright blue sky - nettles stung my bare ankles - 

The wood was enclosed by a lichened drystone wall - old trees were in new leaf - 

I could glimpse the sea - a yacht was sailing past St Adhelm's Head - 

We fell silent once we were inside the wood - 

We followed a winding path through wild garlic flowers and bluebells -

A red butterfly opened its dream dusted wings - 

An unseen bird sang with its sweet voice - 

16.00 

Saturday 16 May 2016

Polar Wood 

Kingston

Purbeck

The glider ...

I lay on the bright grass with Anne, reading Blood's a Rover - 

Elroy's short sentences were like pops of Old Crow -

The Count had fingernails like claws - 

I looked upwards, distracted by sweet birdsong - 

A glider was moving across the sky - I followed its silent circling flight - 

I felt the warmth of the sun upon my face - 

Too soon I lost sight of the slender visitant from the heavens - 

Ghostlike wings carried it into remote blueness - 

A kestrel waited on top of the church tower - 

Clumsy bees lolloped just above galaxies of daisies - 

16.00

Wednesday 13 May 2015

The garden 

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset