The departure of the carvers ...

Soon the carvers will lay down their chainsaws - 

They'll drive in a louche convoy to the west - 

Summer will gave way to autumn - 

The cold grate will be heaped high with pine cones - 

Mists will whiten the water meadows - 

The carvers will light their fires above an unmapped cove - 

The pale sea will reflect the winter moon -

13.29

Thursday 31 August 2017

Wareham

Dorset 

Dangerous verses ...

Penelope and I climbed steps the colour of pale gold to the Long Gallery - 

Below us was the park, with the fountain and the orangery - 

The walls of the Gallery were hung with portraits -

I gazed at the wary faces of Jacobean and Tudor courtiers - 

I admired their delicate lace and enamelled armour - 

I sought out the poet who'd written his dangerous verses one dark summer - 

There he was, with his beard and long neck - 

I murmured those words, quietly, as if I, too, feared the axe - 

Graven in diamonds in letters plain

There is written her fair neck round about 

Nolo me tangere, Caesar's, I am - 

12.00

Tuesday 29 August 2017

Montacute 

Somerset 

Reading M R James ...

Whenever I read M R James I listen out for whispering on the stairs - 

I look over my shoulder to see if there's a white fluttering shape behind me - 

A slip of paper dances before my fingers - 

The garden is filled, inch by stealthy inch, with shadow - 

20.46

Tuesday 29 August 2017

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset 

Attic mining ...

Richard's attic mining - 

He's delving into seams of memory- 

He shows me what he finds - 

There's a page from an old notebook, a box of Irish matches - 

He wrote his words on that page whilst a soft rain fell on Dursey Island - 

Those matches lit a turf fire in the small cottage under the mountains - 

That's a poor fire Bernie o'Shea had said - 

I still have the tweed jacket I was wearing in the photograph - 

The next parish was in America - 

21.11

Monday 28 August 2017

Southsea

East Stoke

Dorset

Apples ...

This afternoon I plucked an apple from the tree - 

I cut it into quarters - I ate each sweet portion in the sunlit garden - 

I then lay upon the warm grass - above me was the blue late summer sky - 

I thought of all those who had held up an apple for me to eat - 

I recalled the shape of each of their names - 

I remembered the hissing of a gas fire, the dizzying fragrance of a wheat field - 

Moonlight blessed a tipsy street, a cool river flowed with music to the sea - 

15.01

Sunday 27 August 2017

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset 

Some leaves were already golden ...

Anne and Sally picked blackberries from the generous thorns - 

Small clouds moved across the pale blue sky - 

We glimpsed the shining sea through brambles - 

We'd followed a narrow path through the quiet trees - 

Birds sang in the green dreamy light - 

Now we made our way downwards to the beach of pebbles -

We swam in the clear water -

The two sisters remembered childhood voices -

Maize ripened in the late summer fields - 

We followed our path back to the trees - 

Some leaves were already golden -  

13.00

Saturday 26 August 2017

Ringstead 

Dorset 

 

A dream of a landship ...

Perhaps, I thought, I should drive a vintage landship - 

I'd strap a leather belt around the roaring bonnet - 

I'd sip Laphfroaig from a silver hip flask -

I'd mark my route to Llanthony Priory on a hand drawn map - 

The ghosts of speed kings would hail me on Pendine Sands - 

My tyres would feel the pulse of Wales  - 

12.30

Saturday 25 August 2017

Studland 

Dorset 

Stories in Bill's ...

I'm sitting in Bill's with Tess - 

Tess pours tea out of a large blue teapot - 

We've ordered scones - 

Tess smiles her dazzling smile - 

I remember all the stories we told each other - 

Sitting with us were a gentle donkey, a fearless tabby, a girl with bright red hair - 

13.30

Thursday 24 August 2017

Bill's

Salisbury

Wiltshire

A bed of cinders under my feet ...

I'm reading The White Hotel - 

I've only a few more pages left to read -

My heart is twisted with anguish -  

I remember the dream I had last night - 

I was far beyond the border, one of many under a red sky - 

Ash fell from the clouds - 

How I'd longed to wake up from that dream - 

Now I hear once more the harsh voices, the barking of dogs - 

The grass under my bare feet becomes a bed of cinders - 

16.34

Wednesday 23 August 2017

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset

Her name is now lost to me ...

The fragrance of cut grass, mowed after rain, gave voice to memory - 

I stood, with my white cap of years, under the August apples - 

I remembered sunbathing on a lawn in Putney, a leggy boy in a kindly garden - 

There were books and soft voices inside the house - 

Upstairs a young woman lay in her deep bath - 

Her name is now lost to me, but not the colour of her skin and hair -

15.55 

Tuesday 22 August 2017

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset

A well beaten third ...

Whilst he walked on Ballard Down, tipsters whispered names into Richard's ear - 

When I swam off South Beach, his horses were being given the office - 

Pulling my clothes back on, I sat with Richard and Penelope in the cafe overlooking the bay - 

A yacht with red sails skirted Old Harry - 

My heart was still pounding - 

There was sand in my hair -  

One mile two is the punters' graveyard Richard told me later - 

He drank his London Porter - 

When rain comes, form goes out of the window -  

Merlin didn't turn up with the magic today - 

It was a race for greys - my horse had a cloudy eye - he didn't stay - 

Frontiersman was a well beaten third I said - 

12.00

Saturday 19 2017

South Beach

Studland 

Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset 

When I think back ...

His name was Ray Sawyer my dad said - 

We all called him Tom - 

We'd go for walks each Saturday - Tom had a book of walks - we'd walk in the country - 

We went past The Prince of Wales - 

My dad took my arm - 

We walked over cigarette ends - 

Let's walk to the gates my dad said - 

When I think back - 

He leaned against me, sighing - 

When I think back - 

12.03

Sunday 20 August 2017

Staunton Road

Havant

Frank the Post ...

Frank The Post got banned for life Richard said - 

He'd collect up the glasses and take them up to the bar - 

They let him tidy the chairs -

He'd guard my laptop when I went to the Gents - 

He was the guardian of the disabled toilets - 

He had his own key - 

If you got on well with him he'd lend you the key - 

I asked Chris did he misbehave ?

She said he's probably over the road in the Froddington Arms - 

15.00

Saturday 19 August 2017

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset 

Discarded skins ...

After swimming, we sat in the green deck chairs - 

The clear sea had welcomed our slender bodies - 

The sun had cast its fleeting light upon the water - 

Each moment of swimming was a casting away of secrets - 

Our clothes were left upon the sand like discarded skins - 

13.00

Friday 18 August 2017

Studland 

Dorset

Shy ghosts in Charing Cross Road ...

Shy ghosts haunted the secondhand bookshops on Charing Cross Road - 

Walking towards the seething tube station I heard their voices - 

I lingered amongst bibliophiles so that I might greet them - 

Floor to ceiling bookcases were reefs of words - 

When I turned to see my ghosts I recognised their youthful faces - 

I knew their voices as my own - 

16.00

Wednesday 16 August 2017

Charing Cross Road

London

When Wallace smiled ...

When I held Wallace in my arms my heart was made large enough to hold the world - 

My eyes filled with tears -

There he was, bringing the future and the past before me - 

There they were, my two daughters, Anne, my wife - there was the first ever moment I saw her - 

There were the moments when Sophie and Tessa were born - 

There were my parents, my grandparents, the sky above and the earth beneath - 

There was the skin we wore, the thoughts we carried in our heads - 

When Wallace smiled a new world spun - 

14.00

Wednesday 16 August 2017

London 

Places of the mind ...

I'm eating lemon drizzle high above The Great Court - 

I've just looked at a beautiful spooky watercolour by Henry Moore - 

Wildflowers will soon turn the bombsite into a secret garden - 

Searchlights will sweep across the reddened sky - 

*

The landscape Samuel Palmer painted was illumined by heavenly light - 

In the city churchyard, John Craxton remembered a Cretan bar -  

Turner waited for the storm to darken the lagoon - 

The stars danced inside a sea shell - 

*

Looking at each painting was like listening to a story -  

Each haunting word held me in its spell - 

15.07

Tuesday 15 August 2017

Members Room

British Museum

London

 

Strange paradises ...

We walked past the quiet villas of Aldersbrook - 

Sunflowers tracked the beautiful progress of jets across the sky - 

The air was rich with a hundred languages -

The smile of my new grandson was like an early summer - 

What strange paradises did he see in this tree lined street? 

11.00

Monday 14 August 2017

Aldersbrook

London

The carvers are back ...

The carvers are back until autumn - 

Bravos will sculpt hares with chainsaws - 

With their dreadlocks, they'll shape lithe bodies out of golden wood with unrivalled sprezzatura - 

At night, they'll sit by their fires, drinking cider, inhaling mysterious smoke - 

I'll drive past them in the pristine Peugeot - 

There'll be a smooth stone from a northern beach in my jacket pocket - 

I'll match sea with fire, pale sun with fragrant orchards - 

13.47

Sunday 13 August 2017

Wareham 

Dorset 

The hundred and ninety nine steps ...

Climbing the steps up to the Abbey, I left behind the narrow harbour, the crooked yards - 

Attic windows were open to the gaze of seagulls -

*

I knew that I was one of many, wearing down once more the patient stone -   

We climbed upwards, those who could be seen, and those who were invisible - 

10.10

Monday 31 July 2017

Whitby

Yorkshire

The key will be turned in the lock ...

One day the lounge will be emptied of memory - 

We'll take down the pictures - we'll roll up the carpets - 

The vase will hold no flowers -

The words my dad wrote will haunt my thoughts - 

The key will be turned in the lock - 

15.00

Friday 11 August 2017

Staunton Road

Havant

Hampshire

My dad's world ...

We're sitting in the garden of The Old House at Home - 

I'm sipping a half of HSB - 

Totally different here says Anne - 

People going out - talking about different things - 

We left my dad in his armchair - 

He'd sat there since we got back from the Day Centre -

For years all they did was walk up and down to Waitrose Anne says - 

I think of my dad's world - 

There's the arm chair - 

There's the bellowing TV - 

There's the newspaper, slowly read - 

There's the diary, with the pages left unwritten - 

19.33

Thursday 10 August 2017

The Old House at Home 

Havant 

The long afternoon ...

The long afternoon lay stretched out before me - 

I sat in the lounge of memory - 

Rain fell upon the small garden - 

Nat King Cole was singing A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square - 

At three o'clock I'd drink a glass of water with my mum - 

Bottoms up we'd say - 

There'd be Cosmocol in her glass - 

At five thirty she'd have her Aricept - 

I'd hand my dad the sachet of Laxido - 

Do I take this? he'd ask - 

When's the News on? - 

15.00

Wednesday 9 August 2017

Staunton Road

Havant

Hampshire 

Remembering Loch Eriboll ...

I told my dad this afternoon that I'd walked The Cleveland Way - 

We got out the Readers Digest Atlas - 

This kindly Atlas had been part of my childhood - 

I'd traced the course of the Nile with my finger - 

I'd murmured under my breath the names of Asian cities - 

Now we turned the pages together to the map of England - 

The names of small towns were printed in italics - 

There I said - there's Helmsley - there's Whitby - there's Scarborough - 

I've been to Scarborough my dad said - 

There's a castle - 

I was a Navy Apprentice - 

We went across the border - up into Scotland - 

Loch Eriboll - I remember Loch Eriboll -

We called it Loch Horrible -

16.15

Tuesday 8 August 2017

Staunton Road

Havant