I saw the midnight train ...

I looked at the white moon's reflection in the river -

Earlier, I'd said something shameful - 

I wore a necklace made of ice - 

I heard the river flowing over stones - 

I looked up towards the bridge - 

I saw the midnight train, beads of light in the darkness - 

Tuesday 29 September 2015

East Stoke

Purbeck

Dorset 

The ten gallon hat ...

I used to walk with my mum to Waitrose to help her with the trolley - 

She was better with names then - 

A man wearing a blue ten gallon hat would always wave at us from the window of his sheltered flat - 

We'd wave back - 

I see him every time I'm going shopping my mum would say - 

Today, his window was empty - there was no sign of his hat or chair -

We would be looking at care homes this afternoon - 

I wondered if we'd come across him, lassoing mustangs in an airless TV lounge - 

11.00

Tuesday 29 September 2015

West Street 

Havant 

Waiting for marsh harriers ...

The birdwatchers spoke softly to each other, gazing into silent worlds through their binocculars - 

The hide looked like a shepherd's hut, shaded by slender trees - 

I sat next to Penny, holding my tweed cap in my hands - 

Dead trees with branches the colour of bone overlooked a meadow - 

Blue water glittered amongst man high reeds - 

A woman wearing a green waxed jacket said the ospreys visit those dead trees - 

A man with a keen brow said you have to be patient waiting for marsh harriers -  

11.30

Monday 28 September 2015

Arne 

Purbeck 

Dorset   

Roast beef at The Old House At Home ...

We had a pub lunch today in The Old House At Home with the carers - 

Jane said when you lock the cupboard your dad will be mortified - 

We're trying to stop him having a glass whilst he's watching Foyles War or Doc Martin - 

When he doesn't see Foyle or the Doc he gets jumpy - 

Teresa said they're sweet really - 

Sophie and Paul joined us - Paul said Scunthorpe had lost at Southend -

I'd admired Paul's Instagram of the Ballardian strand - 

Den told me how he'd once driven a lorry through snowdrifts in Wales - 

I remembered how my mum had taught me to tie my shoelaces - 

14.00

Sunday 27 Septrmber 2015

The Old House At Home

Havant 

The wild swimmer had left this world too soon ...

I'm reading Roger Deakin's wonderful book about wild swimming - 

I'm taking my time reading the book, re-reading pages, treasuring each gentle sentence - 

I picture myself swimming in a pristine icy lochan, or slipping into an emerald pool - 

This morning, Anne and I spent the morning at Middle Beach - 

We swam in water as clear as glass - 

Bright waves splashed my face - 

I lay on my back, looking up at the sky, lifted up by the forgiving sea - 

Later I stretched out upon the sand, warming myself in the sun - 

A white yacht was moored close to the shore - 

I felt a pang of sadness - 

The wild swimmer had left this world too soon I thought -

11.30

Saturday September 26 2015

Middle Beach

Studland 

Purbeck

Dorset  

  

Watching "The Legend of Barney Thomson" ...

Last night, I saw The Legend of Barney Thomson at The Rex - 

Robert Carlyle played a sad nervy barber, cutting brylcreamed hair with murderous scissors in a Glaswegian edgeland - 

Emma Thompson played his monstrous raddled mother, who cut up men after shagging them in the high rise - 

I gazed, fascinated, at the bleak vistas before me on the screen - 

Ferocious grannies played bingo in a brutalist bingo hall - 

Pale angry men in trackies haunted empty streets - 

Roy Orbison crooned Blue Bayou whilst Barney dragged a duct taped body to a loch - 

A loathsome sidekick sported a ruffled shirt - 

Before watching the film, I drank a bottle of Wainwright in the cinema's tiny bar - 

A half moon hung in the sky over the roof tops - 

Anne was at book group - they were discussing Far From The Madding Crowd - 

One of the group said that she thought Jeremy Corbyn was scruffy - 

There were uneasy chuckles when Anne mentioned David Cameron and the pig - 

13.30

Friday 25 September 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset 

Zorba teaches Basil how to dance ...

Watching Zorba The Greek with Anne and Richard, I lamented the years when I'd never danced - 

I'd been too shy to dance - my body had been a stranger to me - 

I'd watched the golden people dance - I'd never felt able to join them - 

Years passed before I learned to sway my hips in a shebeen - 

I first raised my arms above my shoulders whilst dancing to Rai music - 

Now Zorba was laughing - 

He's teaching Basil how to dance cried Richard -

Dance Basil I thought - join the world of colour - let your body no longer be a stranger - 

21.00

Saturday 19 September 2015

The Old School House 

East Stoke 

Dorset 

I saw a peregrine, flying over the dark shining sea ...

This morning, I saw a peregrine, flying over the dark shining sea - 

I thought of Richard's poem in memory of his brother - 

Peregrines had soared over the cliffs he'd climbed - 

His fall had been far crueller than one through air - 

Below us, the waves broke upon a rocky shore - 

Above us, swept back wings raked the sky - 

12.00

Wednesday 23 September 2015

Wallsend Cove 

Isle of Portland

Dorset 

His armchair would become a sad throne ...

We're driving back to Dorset on the M27 - we've spent the day at my parents' house in Havant - 

We had their carpets cleaned this morning - 

They're not as bad as some I've cleaned Peter said - 

My mum and dad were at the day centre - 

I wandered through the empty house - time was different here - 

Upon the letter from Doctor Melville, my dad had written: stay at home, and then ??? - 

Your armchair would become a sad throne, I thought - 

Familiar furniture would become poignant sculptures - 

We would continue driving into the coming darkness - 

16.30

Tuesday 21 September 2015

Staunton Road

Havant 

A fiery summer flickering upon my tongue ...

We met up with Tessa and Charlie today in Salisbury - 

A small black kitten danced around the kitchen -

Dark bottles brimmed with mellow ales - 

Chilli plants brushed against my shirt in the lounge - 

A guitar nursed passionate songs - 

Charlie offered me a tiny spoonful of the chilli sauce he'd made - 

A fiery summer flickered, for a moment, upon my tongue - 

12.05

Monday September 21 2015

Salisbury 

Wiltshire

Pearls slipping off a necklace ...

This morning we drove to Havant - 

Every Sunday we visit my parents - I walk with them to All Saints Church - Anne makes sure the crinkle cut chips aren't burnt - 

When she met me today, my mum asked are you Chris? 

For a few moments she didn't know me - then she smiled and held my hands - 

Later, we sat together on the settee - 

Do you remember when you were small? she asked - 

Yes I said - 

I remembered the rowan tree in the garden, the smell of my dad's dhobying in his naval grip, The Virginian on the Ferguson Ultra, reading Slippery Sam whilst in a chair bed - 

My mum's memories, I thought, were like pearls slipping off a necklace -

They rolled off her fingers, lost in the dark - 

16.00

Sunday September 20 2015 

Staunton Road 

Havant

My wet suit fitted me like a second skin ...

This afternoon, I swam in my wet suit - 

I'd not worn my wet suit for twenty years - I'd bought it in a louche surf shack in St Agnes - a wild haired mermaid had helped me choose the suit - 

I'd tried in vain to wear the suit a year ago - now it fitted like a second skin - 

Doctor Baggi's treatments had worked their magic - I'd lost my idler's paunch - 

I threw myself into the welcoming sea - 

Swimming out to the white yachts, I whooped with joy - 

This is what Zorba would do I told the gulls - 

14.00

Saturday 19 September 2015

Middle Beach

Studland

Purbeck

Dorset 

We would be lifted up by wings of foam ...

We sat cross legged upon the beach, next to the turquoise sea - 

I forgot for a while our worries about my parents - 

Anne and I considered leaping into the dazzling waves - 

We would swim towards the arch, lifted up by wings of foam - 

12.00

Friday 18 September 2015

Durdle Door

Purbeck 

Dorset   

Idling in ReLoved, spellbound in the museum ...

There was 1930s dance hall music playing in ReLoved - 

A girl in a red dress bought me an Americano - 

I dipped black bread into my soup - 

Eccentric china graced a dark sideboard - 

I resolved to try the Morrocan vegetable stew the next time I idled here -

Downstairs, a willowy boy re-arranged mossy dinner jackets - 

*

I spent the afternoon gazing at John Craxton's paintings - 

I saw Dorset landscapes bathed in otherwordly light - poets sat under golden trees -

Knowlton Church was like a boat on a glowing sea - a crescent moon illuminated a haunted wood - 

Cretan sailors drank with the painter in a dangerous bar - 

Elegant dancers linked sinewy arms - 

The bright pagan sun of Crete flooded the Victorian galleries - 

A beautiful cat eyed a fish in glass bowl - 

In the painter's last picture, completed just before his death, two birds fly towards a tree - 

I thought I heard their song, felt the air stirred by their swept back wings - 

Thursday September 17 2015

ReLoved

Dorset County Museum

John Craxton Exhibition

"A Poetic Eye, John Craxton on Cranbourne Chase and Crete"

Dortchester

Waiting for the rain ...

I walked along the beach at Studland, picking withered blackberries - 

Rain would soon fall from the darkening sky - 

Cold grey waves lapped my ankles -

Invisible children danced around a sand castle - 

Vast shapes formed in the clouds, faces, strange creatures, writhing smoky figures - 

A small blue yacht was anchored far out in the bay - 

I followed a path between waist high salt scorched ferns, chilled by the wind, waiting for the rain - 

11.00

Wednesday 16 September 2015

Studland

Purbeck

Dorset 

The eyeless head looked up at the sky ...

Even high above the bay, we could smell the sea - 

The wind blew against our faces - rooks brawled in the turbulent air - 

I could taste salt on my tongue - 

We walked downhill, through the churchyard - I read the names carved upon listing monuments - 

The stone cottages in the village were dark nests of memory - 

Apples hung from ancient trees in small orchards - 

Long shining waves broke upon the beach -  

Gormley's sculpture had been toppled by the wind - 

The elegant rusted figure lay amongst pale boulders - 

The eyeless head looked up at the sky - 

16.00

Tuesday 15 September 2015

Kimmeridge Bay

Dorset 

Watching clouds ...

I'm standing barefoot in the garden, watching clouds - 

Windfalls from the apple tree cover the lawn - 

Darkness is coming - 

I can see the faces of my parents, swept past me by the wind - 

Their faces are like pale leaves - 

I am unable to catch hold of them - 

They rise upwards, twisting and turning, smaller and smaller, lost in the sky - 

Monday 14 September 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke

Purbeck

Dorset

Walking to the post box ...

After Waitrose's bubbly battered chip shop cod fillets and Aunt Bessie's finest home style chips, my dad relaxed in his armchair - 

People in England will never go for extremes he said - 

He threw The Sunday Times onto the carpet - 

There was a photograph of Jeremy Corbyn on the front page - 

Later, my dad said I think I'll get a breath of fresh air - 

We walked up West Street as far as the post box - 

 

Wild curtains half covered the windows of a bed sit in Water Meadows Court - 

To think said my dad - I used to walk for miles - 

14.15

Sunday 13 September 2015

West Street

Havant