Looking into the window of Davies' Pharmacy ...

This morning, I bought some Hagen Daz and raspberries for my mum and dad - my mum said her legs felt wobbly - she couldn't manage the walk to Waitrose - 

I left my dad in his chair, reading The Times - he asked me who Dolly Parton was - 

On my way to Waitrose, I passed Davies' Pharmacy, just beyond the Meridian Centre, between Costas and Cafe Nero -  

I paused to admire the severe facade of the pharmacy - there were old medicine bottles for sale in one of the windows -

I gazed at the shining iconic vessels - I thought of apothecaries, and then of Keats - 

I turned away - two tattooed women sat smoking outside Cafe Nero - 

9.30

June 30 2014

Havant

The wood carvers ...

 

Every summer, I see the travellers - they arrive at dusk in their vans, parking upon the grass verges, perhaps hobbling two or three shaggy horses nearby - log fires smoulder late into the night - tall women gather around the embers - 

Driving past, in my newly ironed linen trousers, I imagine that I had lived a different life - 

I picture myself with a white tangled mane, reading nothing, barefoot, casting fortunes in the moonlight, governed only by the stars - 

There's now a small tribe of wood carvers settled by the roundabout to Corfe Castle -  

Bravos with long oily dreadlocks matted  with sawdust carve boxing hares, staring owls, magic mushrooms and bears - 

Yesterday, I strolled through the camp - chainsaws ripped through pale wood - sinewy brown fingers clasped bright chisels - 

Anne was on her way to London, sipping  a cappuccino from the seat service buffet - she would meet up with Sophie - later they would go flat hunting in Forest Gate - 

Perhaps, I thought, I should take off my shoes - I should tear my smart shirts to pieces -

I could already taste the cider on my tongue, feel the warmth of the night's embers against my skin - 

2.00

June 28 2014

The Wood Carvers' Camp

Wareham

The door knocker shaped like a cherub ...

Yesterday, whilst loitering in gentle Wareham, I saw a door knocker shaped like a cherub - its calm face and delicate wings made me stop my dreamy wandering - I was reminded of the memorial tablets I'd seen in ancient churches, gracing silent villages -

I thought of all the doors I'd opened - there was the door to my house when I was twelve years old - there were the doors where desire bid me enter - there was the door to the hospital chapel - 

Some doors I'd dreaded - others I'd joyously thrown open - sometimes I'd seen things which still haunted me - 

How many doors, I wondered, do we have to pass through?

What will be the final door we open? - each door we go through brings us to the last -

11.00

June 27 2014

South Street

Wareham

The Master and Margarita ...

Walking up the stairs to the second floor of the bookshop, I came across a number of framed posters, stylish evocations of modern classics - 

I thought I heard the suave murderous tom cat whispering to me -

Take this revolver, he tempted, blast these apparatchiks - fly through the air - 

I first come across Bulgakov's fable a world ago in a louche seaside town - 

Even now, I'm haunted by the melancholy beauty of the fable - I imagine that I'll hear the voice of a tyrant on my I phone - I see Woland sipping a latte at the table next to mine - an aching loneliness overwhelms me - 

I was staying with Jay and Bridget - I think it was Bridget's paperback - she was reading Russian at Sussex University - 

I was a shy visitant to high ceilinged rooms - my disguise was a velvet jacket - I smoked Balkan Sobranie cigarettes - 

I remember walking up Trafalgar Street, towards the railway station, waiting for love to jump out upon me like a murderer - 

2.26

June 27 2014

The Old School House

East Stoke

The Austin-Healey ...

A sudden melancholy froze my heart yesterday morning - I thought of my mum's words in the Carers' folder - I like looking at my garden - I want to stay in my home - 

I pictured her, sitting by the French Windows - my dad would be saying I think I'll have a can -

I remembered the touch of her chilled fingers - 

I'd just come from the gym - I'd seen the old salt there - his wife is in Anne's yoga class - 

The old salt was chatting to a young god with tattooed arms - an Amazon was drinking water from a paper cup - 

I'd been lip reading the anguished words of the guests on The Jeremy Kyle Show -  

I finished my cappuccino - I could see the Crossword Gang - 

I walked down the High Street, past The Black Bear - 

But then, on the Town Quay, I saw an Austin-Healey 3000 - perhaps some summer visitor had parked it there - 

I suddenly, unaccountably, felt happy - I forgot, in an instant, all my sad cares -

I saw myself, donning ridiculous driving gloves, as though I were a character in a 1970's TV Series - 

I'd roar away, down narrow country roads, wearing a leather jacket - Anne would be wearing purple hot pants - Itchy Coo Park would be playing on the shiny radio -   

12.10

June 26 2014

Cafe Explore

The roof terrace 

Poole Museun

The walk with Penny to Fiddleford ...

Penny told me that the beautiful insects I'd just seen were damselflies - I'd been gazing at their glinting needle thin abdomens, mapping their voyaging in the humid air - 

We were walking along the edge of an overgrown meadow in Dorset - there were pillars of cloud in the burning blue sky -

Earlier, I'd been soothed by the serene memorials in an ancient church - stained glass windows depicted martyred saints - 

Lichened box tombs were half hidden by long grass - 

We had to pick our way very carefully when we came to Gypsy's Drove - cloying mud grasped our boots - 

We were never far from the river - we caught glimpses of dark still water, clusters of water lilies - 

We passed a number of mills, one dating back to Doomsday - 

Back at Newton's Mill, I drank Robinsons Barley Water -

Before me was the mill pond, shaded by willows - 

Narrow bridges crossed the mill race -we'd listened to some melancholy jazz - 

12.19

June 25 2014

The Old School House

East Stoke

The Crooked Book ...

After my dental appointment, I had a capucinno in The Crooked Book - 

I had chipped my tooth again - I'd given my fervent thanks to the elfin Sharon Halderthay - she'd smiled her impish smile - she put away her shining instruments - 

Whilst I waited for my appointment, I talked to a woman who had just returned from Istanbul - her daughter lived there - we both remembered the scurrying ferries and the teeming unpredictable streets - 

She told me that a tornado had recently torn through one quarter of the city - 

Inside The Crooked Book, I looked at the second hand books - the love of reading stole over me like a wicked beautiful mist -  

I bought The Cobra's Heart by Ryszard Kapucinski - 

I considered buying a soviet ushanka - 

A Japanese girl sipped her latte, waiting for her pony tailed friend - 

The two sirens in front of the gaggia continued their intense conversation -

11.15

June 23 2014

Boscombe 

Bournemouth

The Silver Car ...

We were on the M27, returning from staying with my parents for the weekend - I'd edged the tiny lawns - my dad had told us many stories of his youth in the Royal Navy - 

We were approaching Junction 10 - smouldering fragments of tyre covered the hard shoulder - Gardeners' Question Time was on the radio - we were in the middle lane - 

I glanced out of the window - there, just a few feet away, was a marvellous vehicle, the residue, surely, of a dream -  

I gazed shamelessly at the radiant bodywork, the furious wheels - 

The driver, with his goggles, grinned at me - 

I thought of the  photograph I'd seen of Alan Clark, driving one of his opulent vintage cars -

I'd read his last diaries in Herceg Novi, in a murderous street - 

I remembered the letter he wrote to his wife, after his terrible diagnosis - 

Fool Clark, fool - What's the use of saying you are, will always remain, the only true love of my life?

I felt my heart lurch inside its nest of bones - 

3.21

The Old School House

East Stoke

June 23 2014

The half of shandy ...

This morning, my parents went to the church - we followed them, anxious that they arrived there safely - 

I could see, ahead of me, their two frail shapes - 

During the week, Sandra from the church had offered my mum communion at home - 

Yesterday we'd walked past the church in the burning afternoon - 

We'd had half of shandy in the garden of the Old House at Home -

The pub was on the Havant Heritage Trail - it dates from the 16th Century - 

I'd stood in the bar upon uneven flagstones - I'd stared at the beer pump badges -

The badge for Seafarers Ale caught my eye - 

I imagined myself on board the three masted ship, sailing off the edge of the world - 

10.13

22 June 2014

Havant 

The Seagull Book ...

My Aunt Maureen gave my mum a copy of Jonathon Livingstone Seagull to read in hospital - when we visited her in Ward C3, my mum would be reading it - she'd be sitting in her chair by the wheeled bed - 

We'd sit around her - my dad would ask the nurses when she was coming home - my mum would put down the book - she'd look at each of us in turn, visitors to this strange place - 

Now she's back home, often my mum feels she's not really home - 

She looks out of window, watching the sky - 

Sometimes I see some seagulls she says - 

11.45

June 21 2014

Havant

Being idle on the river bank ...

Summer visitors were starting to arrive in Wareham - soon, Sainsbury's car park would be full of people carriers - I'd hear lean wives laughing in The Salt Pig - 

Crossing the High Street, Anne dodged a Range Rover - 

Dorset Cream Teas were snarfed in Nellie Crumb - 

We headed towards the town quay - 

There were men in camo trousers inside  the fishing tackle shop - they all had shaven heads -

Rex Hawkins was repairing toasters - the sad Kurds were preparing fiery Kebabs in Coppers - 

We sat upon a bench by the side of the river - 

Boats were for hire - a girl in red shorts waded out into the shallows - a canoodling couple set off upstream in a small motor boat - 

I stared at the seagulls perched upon the roof of a deconsecrated church - 

The tide was on the ebb - bright green ducks joshed each other - 

We rang my parents up - tomorrow we'd pay them a visit - we'd stay for two nights - 

Already, I felt a little anxious - 

12.00

20 June 2014

The Old School House

Being idle on the river bank ...

Summer visitors were starting to arrive in Wareham - soon, Sainsbury's car park would be full of people carriers - I'd hear lean wives laughing in The Salt Pig - 

Crossing the High Street, Anne dodged a Range Rover - 

Dorset Cream Teas were snarfed in Nellie Crumb - 

We headed towards the town quay - 

There were men in camo trousers inside  the fishing tackle shop - they all had shaven heads -

Rex Hawkins was repairing toasters - the sad Kurds were preparing fiery Kebabs in Coppers - 

We sat upon a bench by the side of the river - 

Boats were for hire - a girl in red shorts waded out into the shallows - a canoodling couple set off upstream in a small motor boat - 

I stared at the seagulls perched upon the roof of a deconsecrated church - 

The tide was on the ebb - bright green ducks joshed each other - 

We rang my parents up - tomorrow we'd pay them a visit - we'd stay for two nights - 

Already, I felt a little anxious - 

12.00

20 June 2014

The Old School House

Lolling on Studland Beach ...

After quiche and olives in the Dorset Deli, we met up with Penny - 

I'd been to the gym earlier that morning - as I ran on the running machine, I felt calm, only aware of the movements of my body, no longer thinking sad thoughts  - 

I remembered that one of my favourite authors, Haruki Murakami, loved running - 

Perhaps I should go running, I thought, up to Highwood, into the forestry plantation, to be lost in silences - 

We drove to Studland, walking along the beach, stretching out upon the pale sand not far from the Naturist Beach - 

I could see brown figures, swimming in the sea - 

Anne and I had once stripped off amongst the dunes - I'd felt, for a while, as though I were an artless creature - 

I'd basked in the sun, listening to the sound of my heart - 

1.17

June 19 2014

East Stoke

Eating Chicken Shish in The Bodrum

Last Friday evening, Richard gave me wise counsel - he listened to my sad stories -

Richard's memories of testing times brought me comfort - I no longer felt myself to be an ungrateful son - 

Richard took me to The Bodrum Restaurant - the pubs in Albert Road were starting to fill with Friday drinkers - brave youths milled outside louche venues - girls in their finery sashayed past empty laundrettes - 

Inside The Bodrum, we drank bumpers of red - a slender girl touched Richard's arm - I ate Chicken Shish - we'd considered eating bream or sea bass - 

Much later, we we heard The Power of Three in The Golden Eagle - 

The band covered Cream's Cross Roads - 

Standing by the bar, I remembered the first time I'd listened to Wheels of Fire - 

I thought of what my dad had said, sitting in his chair - 

You reach back - and you find things - it's strange - 

12.51

Wareham

18 June 2014

The Two Rivers Walk, Sod's law ...

This morning, we went for a walk along the river - we'd met Penny on the town quay - she had her new binoculars with her - 

Tall grasses brushed our faces - nettles stung our ankles - we glimpsed, above the reeds, the bright masts of yachts, outlined against the sky - 

I heard the noise of an outboard - two strong limbed girls were heading downstream in a tender - 

We were shaded from the sun by birch trees - we shared the path with blue dragonflies - I could see tiny fish, thin slivers of scales and fins, swimming in the dark waters of the river - 

Soon, I'd drawn ahead of Anne and Penny - I was unable to see them, but I could hear their voices - 

I felt that the warm world was becoming chill and transparent -

That afternoon, the consultant would recommend an MRI scan - 

It's Sod's law he said - if we look for it we'll not find it - if we don't, it'll be there - 

5.39

June 17 2014

East Stoke

The garden of the Old School House ...

There seem to be no rabbits this year - we think they've fled their burrows by the side of the railway line - we no longer see them at twilight, fanning out across the lawns - 

Paul Marsh, who lived here before us, used to wait for them with his air rifle at the window of the upstairs bedroom - 

But now the garden of The Old School House is a tender paradise of flowers - 

Returning from my parents, we walked barefoot around the garden, the grass soft and warm beneath our toes - 

We still felt as if we were in Havant, full of care - yet the scents of the flowers, their shapes and colours, restored our spirits - 

Anne lay down upon the grass - I stared up at the pale sky - 

3.55

16 June 2014

East Stoke

Low tide at Langstone ...

One evening, Anne and I walked along the foreshore of Langstone Harbour - 

We'd left my parents in their house - the TV was silent - 

I remembered how I'd walked here with my dad - he'd been a keen walker, with a quick, nervy, stride - 

I gazed at the numinous sky - the air was very still - Anne was slim and beautiful - my heart beat faster when I looked at her  - 

Swans emerged from amongst the reeds bordering the mill pond - 

Further along the foreshore was the Church of Saint Thomas a Becket - 

The cemetery there was a tranquil place, shaded by gentle trees - 

12.51

East Stoke

June 15 2014

The beer garden of The Old House at Home .. .

We sat in the beer garden of The Old House at Home, enjoying the sunshine - slowly, I became calm -  

The pub was draped with flags of Saint George - 

England would soon be playing its first game in the World Cup - 

Brawny men clasped pints of Seafarer - 

I could see the square tower of Saint Faith's Church - my parents went there as often as they could - 

My mum once said she was looking forward to see her dog, Gyp, in heaven - 

I would sit in the field, and Gyp would run amongst the grass, and he'd come back to me - 

When I remembered those words my eyes stung with tears - 

11.34

13 June 2014

Havant