Sunday 30 April 2017

The ages of man in West Street ...



Early this morning I took my mum for her Sunday walk -

She'd been getting restless, opening the door to look out into the pinched street -

She thinks Den's been Anne said - spiriting your dad away to the Day Centre 

We walked up West Street, past Abbeyfield - 

Near the post box, past the Catholic Church, we caught up with a man walking even more slowly than we were - 

His back was bent, his body twisted and withered by his years -

A young mum with her hopping skipping boy went past -

The boy turned to look wonderingly -

There we were, the ages of mankind, blown along by the wind in West Street - 


09.30
Sunday 30 April 2017

West Street
Havant 
Hampshire 

Saturday 29 April 2017

Clothes dusted with memory ...



Anne took some old clothes to the Sue Ryder shop this afternoon - 

I pictured the racks of strange dresses, the reefs of Mills and Boons

There would be sad china on the shelves, a nest of widower's tables near the till - 

The scent of empty bedrooms would fill the shop - 

Each abandoned garment would carry the dust of memory - 


16.30
Saturday 29 April 2017

Sue Ryder Shop
Wareham 
Dorset  



Friday 28 April 2017

This path still felt their precious weight ...



Long years lay upon the church like fallen leaves - 

I'd gazed at the memorial tablet for Captain Charles Howard - 

A closed bible held fast the words of prophets - 
 
Not far from where we stood was the village war memorial, overlooked by two tall trees - 

The quiet houses remembered homely names - 

In the wood, we'd smelled the fragile scent of blue bells - 

I imagined the young men who'd walked here before me - 

Their ears had heard this birdsong - 

This path still felt their precious weight - 


11.27
Friday 28 April 2017

Ashmore
Dorset 






Thursday 27 April 2017

Idling in Bill's ...




In Bill's I admired the barista's arts - 

Tessa sipped a latte - 

Above the ancient roof was the pale April sky - 

The Cathedral Spire cast a pious shadow - 

A travelling man played an accordion in a narrow street -

We'd walked by small houses, each one with its secret garden - 

The clear river flowed over smooth white stones - 

I considered drinking a Bramble Berry Infusion

Smiling pensioners ordered Fisherman's Pie - 

Tessa told me about the Johari Window - 

I tried to imagine my unknown self ...


10.30 
Wednesday 27 April 2017

Bill's 
Salisbury 
Wiltshire 



Tuesday 25 April 2017

I sit like Pushkin, amongst my friends ...



The new bookshelves are now filled - 

Sunlight falls upon foxed Penguins and worn Everymans - 

I think of all the libraries I've loved - 

I remember the bound copies of The Hampshire Chronicle in a room reached by marble stairs - 

I read about ship movements, East Indiamen bound for Madras, rick-burning in sad villages, the names of the quality in Assembly Rooms - 

I saw beautiful maps in the library of the Literary and Philosohical Society - 

I sat under the dome of a murmuring reading room, jostled by famous ghosts - 

I can still smell the scent of arcane journals - 

Now I sit like Pushkin, amongst my friends

I dream of waiting stories, pristine words - 


17.00
Tuesday 25 April 2017

The Old School House 
East Stoke 
Dorset 



Monday 24 April 2017

The blue certificate ...



I place the blue certificate upon the mantlepiece - 

Bravery Award it reads - bravery in the face of adversity

I remembered the swollen face inches from my own, the unreality of the moment, John Hallam's land ship in the car park - 

I felt spittle upon my cheek - I heard the absurd obscenities - 

This is like a film, I thought - this is not happening - 

But there he was, the dad come to sort out the teachers

There I was, saying you can't come in

A few weeks later, he was run out of the estate - 

Graffiti said he was a grass

That, or he'd stolen someone's book

Next morning Mike presented me with the award - 

The staff clapped and cheered - 

These are my people I thought - 

They deserve awards far more than me - 


19.30
Monday 24 April 2017

The Old School House
East Stoke 
Dorset 


Sunday 23 April 2017

Precious maps ...



I wonder when I took these photographs - 

There's Anne, paying Farmer Davis the rent for our bed on the moonlit grass - 

There she is, her long legs bare, riding a red bike like an Amazon - 

There she is, climbing a tree, fearless and supple - 

That's me, wearing a blue shirt, drinking a vino tinto

My wet hair is thick - I'm reed slim - 

There's Beverley, half smiling, sitting in a chair as though it were her throne - 

I took these photographs whilst I journeyed through the land of my young years - 

Now I trace my path across a precious map - 


17.41
Sunday 23 April 2017

The Old School House 
East Stoke 
Dorset 

Saturday 22 April 2017

A bumper before the tree of glory ...




I read once more that Mr Jonathan Wild was descended from the great Wolfstan Wild

I admired Fielding's elegant convoluted prose - 

Before he climbed the tree of glory the Thief taker General drank the health of his friends in a bumper of brandy

I'd found the book in the ninth box, under a foxed Everyman

I remembered the bookshop in Winchester - 

I'd reeled later into Evensong - 

The cathedral was filled with ancient song - 


17.01
Saturday April 22 2017

The Old School House
East Stoke 
Dorset 






 

Friday 21 April 2017

The nine boxes ...



Anne and Richard carried the nine boxes out from under the stairs -

In each box were books I'd not opened for twenty years -

I recognised their covers, their once familiar pages - 

The words had waited in the dark, unread save by spiders -  

Now I felt their breath upon my face - 

Soon I'd meet old friends, remember bookshops, recall afternoons reading under younger skies - 


14.00
Friday 21 April 2017

The Old School House 
East Stoke 
Dorset 


Thursday 20 April 2017

What do you mean by jaunty? ...



We were lolling in the dunes - 

People might think we were jaunty Richard said - 

This sand is like a sofa I said - 

I picked up a white shell from the beach - 

Some students walked past with clipboards and ernest biros - 

A girl carried two measuring poles - 

Mums poured out tea in beach huts - 

Bold sons launched kites into the salty air - 

What do you mean by jaunty? I asked - 


14.30
Thursday 20 February 2017

Studland Bay
Dorset

Wednesday 19 April 2017

Walking in Polar Wood ...




A year ago, I walked in Polar Wood - 

Today I saw again the drifts of blue bells and wild garlic flowers -  

It was if they were waiting for me - 

Narrow paths wavered under new leaves -

Once more I felt the ancient calm of the wood, the blessing of the flowers - 

Behind me, following my footsteps, were my younger selves - 

Each one had a word for me, of love or hard won wisdom - 


11.06
Wednesday 19 April 2017

Polar Wood 
Swyre Head 
Dorset






Tuesday 18 April 2017

Enrichissez-vous ...



Whilst on the cross trainer, I glanced up at the flat screen TV -  

A smiling shiny woman was making an announcement - 

Unity I heard - stability - leadership - 

I just heard Guizot's words - 

Enrichissez-vous - 

Tuesday 18 April 2017

Purbeck Sports Centre 
Wareham 
Dorset


Monday 17 April 2017

Watching Maigret ...



When we got back from The Old House at Home, my dad was watching Maigret - 

Look at his pipe he said - 

He read the cast list in the Radio Times - 

He plays the part well he said - 

The impassive flic picked up a clumsy phone - 

My mum was sitting on the sofa, wearing two skirts -

She's got up I said -

She thinks it's morning - 


20.30
Sunday 16 April 2017

Staunton Road
Havant 
Hampshire 



Sunday 16 April 2017

Havant Easter Sunday ...

 

I'd take your mum out for a walk soon Anne said - she's starting to touch the saucepans -

It was Easter Sunday - 

I helped my mum into her jacket - 

My dad sat in his armchair, his eyes closed - 

He'd not opened last year's Alan Bennett - 

I walked with my mum into Boundary Way - 

A man wearing a white tee shirt lifted his son out of a Ford Transit - 

Happy Easter to you he said - 

The Magnolia tree in Cross Way was now in blossom - 

A morning drinker chained his push bike to the lamp post outside The Prince of Wales - 

In St Faith's, Canon Tom raised his voice in celebration - 


Sunday 16 April 2017

Havant 
Hampshire 



Saturday 15 April 2017

The moon lifts, radiant with terror ...



At five in the morning I thought of Robert Lowell's words - 

I lay in there in the greying dark - 

I remembered a dream I'd had about the end of the world - 

I'd stood in the back alley outside my parents' house - 

The sky had turned red - 

A silence had fallen upon the trees -

A vast invisible shape was moving over the rooftops - 

I woke to a boy's narrow bed - 

Now it was 1962 again - 

Each night I'd see the moon - 

I'd see its yellow eye - 

I would be bathed in its pale fire - 


05.00 
Saturday 15 April 2017

The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset 


Friday 14 April 2017

Searching for the lost city of Z ...



I'm waiting to see The Lost City of Z

I can remember saying to my teacher I want to be an explorer -

I was 12 years old - 

I'd read about Colonel Fawcett -

I dreamed of forgotten kingdoms in the jungle - 

I'd study maps of the Amazon and the Empty Quarter - 

I longed to set up camp under strange stars, to meet shamans with feathers in their hair -

I saw myself riding a dromedary across an ocean of sand - 

I wanted to uncover the tomb of a legendary king - 

No you can't my teacher said -  everything's been discovered - 

No it hasn't I thought - 


19.00
Friday 14 April 2017

Seat I1
The Rex 
Wareham
Dorset

Thursday 13 April 2017

The ordering of dreams ...



Line by line, I'm remembering Venice - 

I've opened the journal I kept one sultry August - 

I'm reading once again my scrawled observations, my tipsy aperçus - 

There I am, dizzy with grappa, lingering in
the Calle del Paradiso - 

I'm standing in the basilica of Santa Maria Assunta - 

I'm lost in the louche disorder of the Libreria Acqua Alta - 

I'm re-casting each artless word I wrote - 

I left off for far too long the ordering of my dreams - 


16.05
Thursday 13 April 2017

The Old School House 
East Stoke 
Dorset





Wednesday 12 April 2017

Glimpsing St Catherine's Chapel ...




I saw the chapel through the trees - 

The dark stones on the hilltop held my gaze - 

Newly unfolded leaves were like birthday gifts - 

Blossoms reflected the generous sunlight - 

Elegant fish were lords of shining pools - 

A stone vase, shaped like an amphora, stood amongst immaculate tulips -  

I remembered standing inside the chapel one day in winter - 

I'd looked up to see a dove, its white wings stirring the darkness -   

From the hilltop, I'd seen the cleansing sea - 


12.30
Tuesday 11 April 2017

Abbotsbury Subtropical Gardens
Dorset





Tuesday 11 April 2017

Each tree was like a wand of light ...



The gardens were not far from the sea, within a prayer's reach of St Catherine's Chapel - 

We'd driven past houses made of glowing stone - 

Ridgeways still guided footsteps from hilltop to hilltop, high above the quiet valleys - 

Deep in the garden, we came across a birch grove - 

There was bright grass beneath our feet -

Each tree was like a wand of light -


12.00
Tuesday 11 April 2017

Abbotsbury Subtropical Gardens
Dorset
 


 

Monday 10 April 2017

Americanos at Joes ...



Two bright eyed dogs watched us approach the table - 

The man from Bournemouth offered to move them - 

There were yachts moored off shore as there would be in summer - 

We could hear the buzzing pepped up snarl of jet skis - 

A lithe mother carried her bare legged son, wide eyed with his innocent years - 

A dad tended sand castles - 

We sat with our Americanos - 

Five pine trees overlooked the beach - 

I remembered swimming here, wading out hundreds of yards from the green shore - 

Each movement of the sea upon my skin would wash away the years - 

I'd be a boy again, learning to swim in another sea, hearing voices which would never change - 


15.00
Saturday 7 April 2017

Joe's
South Beach
Studland 
Dorset 











Sunday 9 April 2017

I watched the sun give way to the moon ...



The blue sky above the tower prompted memories of sunlit courtyards, lemon trees in blossom, a dish of olives in a drowsy cafe - 

Birds were singing in the bright garden - 

A small plane idled overhead - 

The newly mown lawn smelled of summer - 

I counted my heartbeats one by one - 

I knew the sun would soon be followed by the moon - 

The seasons would turn, the birds would fly across the sea - 

Yet the fruit would still hang from the tree - 

The songs would still be heard - 

My footsteps would still mark the grass - 


The Old School House 
East Stoke 
Dorset 

Sunday 9 April 2017






Friday 7 April 2017

Becoming a curmudgeon ...



Paul's
was shut this afternoon - 

He was on holiday - I wondered if he and his wife had gone to Sark again - 

I got my hair cut in a unisex salon instead  - 

I'd hoped to find a close lipped barber, a man with sharp scissors and of few courtesies -

I'd be able to sit in his chair and have no need to speak - 

Perhaps there'd be a Daily Mail I could read or a copy of Carpworld

I looked in vain - 

Georgie cut my hair - 

How's your day been? she asked me smiling - 

I'm turning into a curmudgeon I thought - 


14.00
Friday 7 April 2017

Wareham
Dorset 


Thursday 6 April 2017

Memories as pebbles in our pockets ...



I'm reading Paul Auster's Winter Journal

There he is, on the front cover, still young, with high cheek bones, looking a bit like Kafka - 

I try to recall, as he does, my early memories - a few small islands of recollection in an otherwise endless sea of black

So I remember the classroom, the early darkness of winter, the scalding radiators - 

It was the last lesson of the day, towards the end of term - 

I was a pupil at Elson Junior School, wary of bigger boys - 

Our teacher, whose name I now shamefully forget, was reading to us - 

It was the first chapter of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

I wanted the listening to go on forever - 

I sensed magic stealing over the playground - 

I stood next to Lucy when she saw the faun - 

I felt the snow fall upon my face from the enchanted sky - 

Any door, I realised, might open on a different world - 

I feel even now the sense of loss, the disappointment, I felt then when miss shut the book - 

That's all she must have said, or similar words - 

Rather than islands, I'd compare memories to pebbles we might carry in our pockets - 

Some fall out, or get lost - 

Others we pick up, still smooth, or worn away - 

Ah we say now I remember


15.48
Thursday 6 April 2017

The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset














 



Wednesday 5 April 2017

Treasure in a dreaming house ...



I'm lolling on the sofa, feeling slightly better - 

I can see the apple tree through the window, the blue of the April sky - 

Small birds hide amongst the new leaves - 

Pine trees border the churchyard - 

This morning, I found a poem Sophie had written for me - 

It was like a treasure discovered in a dreaming house - 

Each beautiful word was to be placed inside my heart - 


16.00
Wednesday 5 April 2017

The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset









Tuesday 4 April 2017

The smell of cigarettes ...



I'm sitting in my chair, reading Simon Raven, sipping honey and lemon - 

The ribald anecdotes divert me me for a while - 

I then imagine lanes winding through drowsy pastures - 

I think of poignant photographs and childhood holidays - 

Memories were shared on a sunlit lawn - a disco in a parish hall, the smell of cigarettes in a twilight field - 


15.00
Tuesday 4 April 2017

The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset