Waiting for midnight ...

I shall wear the New Year like a cloak of yellow feathers - 

I shall wait for midnight before a slow burning fire - 

Anne will sing sorrowful yet beautiful songs - 

There will be golden apples upon the ancient tree - 

Jewelled birds will sing upon its lichened branches - 

Ageless stories will be written upon the sky -

A watch which tells a different time will be placed around my wrist - 

23.30

Saturday 31 December 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset 

 

After the movie ...

I walked up West Street, my mind still full of stars - 

I'd seen strange creatures in ancient cities - 

Spaceships had orbited planets like terrible angels - 

The mist filling the quiet street hid the moon - 

Street lights glimmered like gentle suns - 

Each house I passed was a nest of dreams - 

21.55

Friday 30 December 2016

West Street

Wareham

Dorset 

After the vodka lollies ...

After the vodka lollies, I needed the gym -

Rob greeted me with a wry smile - 

A stroke referral walked slowly between the cross trainers - 

A beautiful young Amazon lifted weights - 

I watched Bargain Hunt on the flat screens -

A bravo with a cropped rug looked at a brutal wristwatch - 

Driving to the gym, I'd listened to Captain Beefheart - 

Strange guitars pulsed as the Captain sang - 

I may be hungry but I sure ain't weird - 

12.30

Thursday 29 December 2016

Purbeck Sports Centre

Wareham

Havant   

 

Vodka lollies ...

Sometimes I like a Baileys Varnsey said -

Radiators the size of torpedoes warmed the spacious kitchen - 

The long table was still covered with glasses and noble bottles - 

We played a game of Happy Salmon, whooping and yelling Switcheroo -  

Sally came round with a tray - 

Anyone like a vodka lolly? she asked - 

20.39

Tuesday 27 December 2016

Ferring

West Sussex

Remembering The Squadronaires ...

Tessa danced with my mum on Christmas Day, Sophie on Christmas Eve - 

My mum loves dancing - 

She dances every morning at the Day Centre - 

When searchlights haloed the lordly bombers, she'd danced with handsome sailors - 

The moon had shone above the broken towns - 

She'd danced to the music of The Squadronaires - 

Tessa laughed as she danced in the lounge of memory - 

I'm all left legs she said - 

15.47

Saturday 25 December 2016

Staunton Road

Havant 

Hampshire 

Accra, March 6 1958 ...

I looked once more at the photograph - 

There was my dad, in Accra, on March 6 1958 - 

He didn't look like my dad - 

He looked like a lean chancer, a man with more than one passport - 

He's sitting, smiling, on a bench, next to a young boy from the city - 

There's no sign of the grey ship which will carry him to colourless harbours - 

20.57

Sunday 25 December 2016

Hayling Island 

Hampshire 

Presents under the tree ...

The presents wait under the tree for tomorrow - 

Red baubles hang from the branches - 

I'm listening to Vieux Farka Toure - 

At the end of the tree lined avenue, waves break upon the windswept beach - 

Soon I'll leave the house made for summer - 

I'll drive to the small house in Staunton Road - 

My watch will fall from my wrist - 

My mum will put on her blue jacket - 

Someone will be here soon she'll say - 

13.20

Saturday 24 December 2016

Hayling Island

Hampshire

Hayling ...

This house is made for summer - 

I can picture guests sitting in the bright kitchen, barefoot and sunburnt - 

There's still sand in their hair, the memory of sunlight upon water like a voice from childhood - 

23.25

Friday 23 December 2016

Hayling Island 

Hampshire 

Bottoms Up ...

Soon it will be time for Christmas in the lounge of memory - 

My mum will ask if she's going to that place I go to - 

My dad will sit in his chair like a forgotten king - 

There'll be a few Christmas cards on the sideboard - 

The curtains will be drawn against the dark -  

I'll bring my mum her tablets - 

Bottoms up I'll say - 

16.56

Thursday 22 December 2016

The Old School House 

East Stoke 

Dorset 

My aunts wore invisible crowns ...

Posting the Christmas cards to doughty aunts, my mum's sisters, I remembered Leigh Park afternoons - 

I'd follow my mum along the winding roads, past pebble dashed houses - 

The estate was a strange kingdom, one which might never be mapped - 

Dogs barked behind doorways -

There were Humber Sceptres parked outside The Curlew - 

My Uncle Polly wore a navy blue blazer - 

I heard stories I did not understand - 

I'd eat a piece of Battenberg cake -

My aunts sat in their chairs as if they were thrones - 

Upon their heads were invisible crowns - 

11.00

Wednesday 21 December 2016

Wareham

Dorset 

Wearing alpaca socks ...

I'm wearing alpaca socks, lolling in my chair, snuffling and shivering - 

I went to bed last night sneezing and melancholy - 

I half expected to wake up in a sanatorium overlooking an alpine pasture - 

Whilst Anne and Penelope walked under leafless trees, I read a short story by China Mieville -

Icebergs floated above a strange London - 

I made myself a soothing bumper of honey and lemon - 

I remembered my mum tucking me into a chair bed in front of the Ferguson - 

I'd watch Wells Fargo from my burning pillow - 

10.30

Tuesday 20 December 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset 

Watching Gilda ..

Johnny Farrell picked up a fistful of pesos and his crooked dice - 

Richard lifted his glass of Badger First Call - 

We were watching Gilda - 

We admired the preposterous tuxedos - 

Gilda sang Put the Blame on Mame - 

She shimmied in a skin tight strapless dress - 

We luxuriated in the sultry film noir for an hour or so - 

Imagine wearing that dressing gown in The Golden Eagle Richard said - 

22.00

Saturday 17 December 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset

Choosing a jigsaw ...

This morning we went to the jigsaw library in Farwells - 

You need to choose a jigsaw with a lot going on Richard said - 

When he and Phil were in Wales, they'd stayed up to two in the morning finishing 1000 piece jigsaws - 

Outside the cottage, rain had fallen upon the mountain - 

Inside, they'd sipped porter whilst seeking out pieces of sky - 

Anne selected The Cider Barn - 

There's a donkey in the barn she said - 

11.14

Sunday 18 December 2016

Farwells 

Jigsaw Library

Wareham

Dorset 

Holding my breath ...

Tipsters murmured secrets to Richard in The Java Coffee House - 

Earlier he'd shown me his poem The Limping Man of Lad Phrao Road - 

Reading it was like swimming in deep water as clear as glass - 

I'd hold my breath but never be able to touch the bottom - 

12.09

Saturday 17 December 2016

The Java Coffee House

Swanage

Dorset 

Pan pipes in Falkland Square ...

After carrot and coriander soup amongst the gentle pensioners, I heard pan pipes in Falkland Square -  

Two musicians stood outside Carphone Warehouse - 

They had dark high cheekboned faces - 

They were used to breathing air above the clouds - 

Their music transformed the brutal square - 

Poundland became a baroque church, spilling incense from its gilded nave - 

Costas was a sleepy cantina - alpacas grazed in the mall - 

13.15

Friday 16 December 2016

Falkland Square 

Poole

For a while I was the naive hero of a bildungsroman ...

There are a few Christmas cards now on the window sill - 

I'm using a card for a bookmark whilst reading Lord Rochester's Monkey - 

My friend Richard has no time for Christmas - 

He'll be perfecting a villanelle in The Leopold - 

Once I spent a Christmas Eve in Winchester - 

Annick had a small Christmas Tree in her bedsit - 

We'd spent fragile notes in The Wykeham Arms -  

I lolled in the only armchair, watching Annick roll a cigarette - 

For a while I was the naive hero of a bildungsroman - 

There I was, tipsy and laughing, about to hear an outrageous confidence, an innocent beguiled - 

17.12

Thursday 15 December 2016

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset 

Walking with Penelope through the mist ...

I I felt as though we were walking, step by step, away from the warm world of colour - 

Leafless trees were made strange by the mist -

Chill water dripped from thorns - 

The path vanished into a white vagueness - 

Penelope put away our map - 

We walked on, past cattle in pale fields, glistening watchful shapes - 

We lost our way in The Valley of the Stones - 

The sarsens were like the scattered bones of a giant from before the Flood - 

Hardy's Monument was a dimly glimpsed tower touching heaven - 

13.00

Tuesday 13 December 2016

Hardy's Monument 

Valley of the Stones

Little Bredy 

Dorset 

The deep valley would contain my bones ...

We first saw the house through the dark branches of leafless trees - 

The mist had cleared - 

We saw the crenellations, a light behind a window, the opened gates to the sweeping driveway - 

I imagined myself, in the high ceilinged library, reading a letter in The Gentleman's  Magazine - 

I'd stand by the grand fireplace, sipping Marsala - 

I'd walk through the park, past the lake, under the exotic trees - 

A decorous memorial would celebrate my life in the church - 

Angels would fold their arms above the nave - 

The deep valley would contain my bones - 

12.30

Tuesday 13 December 2016

Bridehead

Little Bredy

Dorset 

I'd ride my bike like a grizzled hero coming home ...

The two bravos in Ponds were joshing a wiry pensioner - 

Their lurcher lay dreaming of rabbits before the glowing stove - 

I left my net of kindling on the counter - 

A few bits of tinsel were draped around the mysterious ironmongery - 

I made my way past tins of Cuprinol in search of wellingtons - 

Men in waxed jackets hefted chisels - 

Away from the stove, the air was cold and smelled of oil - 

I imagined becoming a gaffer, handy with a saw - 

I'd drink dark ale in The Horse and Groom - 

I'd ride my bike like a grizzled hero coming home - 

11.52

Monday 12 December 2016

Ponds 

Wareham

Dorset

Cirrus clouds marked the edge of heaven ...

Walking on top of Ballard Down, Anne cast a long shadow - 

The December sun was low in the sky - 

The mist had cleared - 

We looked out over the pale shining sea - 

Six canoeists paddled round Old Harry - 

Walkers passed us, treading the ancient path - 

Cirrus clouds marked the edge of heaven - 

12.30

Sunday 11 December 2016

Ballard Down

Studland 

Dorset  

In The Java Coffee House ...

I shared a table with an Irishman and his dark haired wife in The Java Coffee House - 

They were talking with their soft beguiling voices about the sea - 

I rested my elbows upon salt stained wood, listening to their words - 

A slim witch handed me a perfect cappuccino - 

I gazed at a painting of two green brooding girls - 

A man in bright shirt spooned soup into a dark blue bowl - 

I turned to see a man with the face of a van Dyke Charles I - 

Three women dressed in green were laughing with a shy boy - 

I read about ogres in The Buried Giant - 

Outside, drizzly rain fell upon the small seaside town - 

Ballard Down was obscured by cloud - 

13.20

Saturday 10 December 2016

The Java Coffee House

Swanage

Dorset