Petals on the grass, pearls on the sand ...

I walked barefoot in the garden this morning - 

There was still dew on the grass - 

Birds sang in the trees - 

There were petals beneath my feet - 

The sky above the church tower was the blue of the sky in heaven - 

I remembered the dream I'd had before dawn - 

I'd been cast up by a turquoise sea - 

Before me was a bright jungle - 

The tears I shed became pearls - 

07.30 

Wednesday April 29 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset

Seeing my younger self, nervous as a hare ...

I spent an hour or so in the gym this morning - 

I ran on the running machine, gazing out at the Purbeck Hills - 

Rain fell on the school playing fields - thin boys were practising passing a rugby ball - 

Their teacher zipped up his fleece - 

I recalled my boyhood horror of games lessons, the shouting, the sullen grass, the compulsory showers afterwards - 

On one of the flat TV screens, Philip Schofield sat upon a sofa - on the other screen, black dudes sat in a convertible with monstrous fins - 

I'd not been to the gym for at least a week - I'd been either sanding bedroom floors or idling in Shoreditch - 

I felt happy to be running here again - I stopped thinking sad thoughts - 

But looking out of the window at the shivering boys, I thought I saw my younger self - 

There I was, running across the fields, wrists as delicate as bone, nervous as a hare - 

11.00

Wednesday 29 April 2015

Purbeck Sports Centre 

Wareham 

Dorset 

Walking to St Adhelm's Chapel ...

This morning, walking with Penelope from Renscombe Farm to St Aldhelm's Head, I saw a field of bright grass - 

When I went this way in winter, each pothole was glazed with ice - the frozen chalk shone in pale icy sunlight - 

Now we saw three swallows fly low above the rippling grass - 

The white coastguard cottages reminded me of an Edward Hopper painting -

I imagined entering a room with pale blue walls - a woman was sitting upon an unmade bed - she held a shell in her brown hand - 

Inside the chapel we saw dark stone and white flowers -  

I felt the weight of time - 

I stood on the cliff top, hoping that I might see dolphins in the shining sea - 

11.30

Tuesday 28 April 2015

At Adhelm's Head

 

Getting over a cold ...

I'm getting over a cold - 

My mum would say my cold is now coming out - 

Every morning I hawk and cough like a grizzled gaffer - 

I lift my glass of honey and lemon as though it were a bumper of Kendal Black Drop - 

I think I caught this cold in a stifling tube train on the Jubilee Line - 

I remember getting over a cold when I was thirteen years old - 

I lay stretched out on a settee, reading The Magician's Nephew - 

Our tabby cat gazed at me with with his calm eyes - 

I wanted the afternoon, and the story, to go on forever - 

19.49

Monday 27 April 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset

The Apple blossoms come ...

Glancing out of the bedroom window, I saw the apple tree - pink blossoms graced the lichened branches - brave new leaves promised a languid summer - 

I would sunbathe reading on the grass, then loll in the tree's cool shade - every moment would be one to treasure - 

I thought of Clive James' poem, Japanese Maple, Dennis Potter saying the nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous - 

I gazed at my face in the mirror - perhaps soon, beloved faces would drift though the air like petals - I'd see them in the glass, delicate shapes of memory - 

15.20

Sunday 25 April 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset 

Hiring the sander ...

This morning we hired a sander from A1 Hire & Sales in Wareham - 

Inside his oily cave, a grizzled bravo wheeled out the brutish machine - 

A man came in with a strimmer - 

The bravo told us how to operate the sander - 

You unscrew these ladies here he said - lift her up before you turn her on - if you don't, she'll run away from you - 

We nodded sagely - 

The bravo chuckled - he scratched his bristly jowls - 

You'll need to use a mask he said - 

Those who don't, come back coughing -

9.30

Saturday 25 2015

A1 Tool Hire

Wareham

Dorsetv

Remembering Geoff ...

Soon Abbotsbury was behind us - each house of glowing stone had its own serene history - St Catherine's Chapel rose dark from its green hill - 

We walked along a narrow road, within sound of the sea, heading north west - the beach was to our left - we scrambled up the high shingle ridge - the bright waves broke below us - 

We stretched out upon the warm pebbles, talking about Geoff - we'd seen wild flowers, growing at the edge of the beach - we wondered what they were - 

Geoff would know Richard said - he'd have a book in his pocket, and he'd know - 

We remembered how he'd linger on walks, examining umbels, studying the flight of birds - 

Geoff had once been part of our young lives - we'd spent a week or so with him in Malham, with Mary from Tallahassee - he'd refused to have his fortune told - 

We wondered what had become of him - 

I thought of other people who had once been precious to me, their voices, their caresses, their laughter - 

I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the waves - 

11.30

Thursday April 23 2015

The beach, south of Abbotsbury

The northernmost part of Chesil Beach

 

Richard "Caravan" Drax at the Swanage Hustings ...

Richard "Caravan" Drax shot his silky cuffs - 

Food banks he said were regrettable, very regrettable - 

He turned his narrow head from side to side -

Nonetheless, there'd been a miraculous economic recovery -

I gazed at his costly brogues - 

I thought of the mean doors I'd seen whilst out canvassing - 

I gazed, astonished, at this sleek creature - 

Why are they clapping? I asked Richard - 

20.30

Wednesday 22 April 2015

Swanage

Dorset 

The Log store ...

Last week, I assembled a log store -

It was the first time since woodwork in secondary school that I'd used a screwdriver - 

In my mum and dad's garage, there's the small book case I made when I was twelve years old - 

I can remember planing the wood, the smell and feel of the shavings - 

The wood work classroom was a strange kingdom of sawdust - 

There were boys' initials carved into the surface of the benches - 

The blades of the chisels were like bright narrow teeth - 

I placed my Sci Fi pulps into my skewed shelves, my Moorcocks, my Bradburys - 

Soon I would place apple logs in the log store - 

I still had my copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes -  

18.01

Friday April 22 2015

The garden

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset

It's a sea of blue here ...

Just say simple things Anne said - 

I'd been telling her about door knocking in Swanage - 

I remembered the woman who told me it's a sea of blue here - 

I'd looked into the hallway of her small house - I smelt air scented by disappointments - 

Not too far away, a man had said I never talk about politics, not on this doorstep, not on this street - 

18.30

Tuesday 21 April 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke

Sitting in my mum and dad's garden ...

I'm sitting in my mum and dad's garden -

Earlier, I mowed and edged the two tiny lawns -

My mum is watching me through the opened french windows -

The colours are lovely she said -

A pigeon flew over the roofs of the lock up garages -

Inside the lounge, my dad was reading The Times -

What a lot they are he sighed  -

Here, I thought, I was a boy again, my skin slipping off like a magic coat -


14.30
Monday 20 April 2015

Staunton Road
Havant

My dad has a fall ...

My dad had a fall today - 

Malcolm, the Emergency Practitioner, said you've been in the wars old soldier - 

When we asked my dad to think about using a stick he said worse things happen to other people - 

He tripped over the kerb near The Prince of Wales - 

Dave from next door helped him walk home - 

The OT is coming tomorrow - 

But I can hear already, in my head, my dad's strange pasionate objections to any advice or offers of help - 

18.23

Sunday 19 April 2015

The lounge 

Staunton Road

Havant 

 

Canvassing ...

I shadowed Avril for the first few doors - 

No cold calls, no junk mail, we have found Jesus said a sign on one door -

The man who looked out from the dark hallway said we all vote labour here, always have, always will - 

A sign on another door warned of a German Shepherd - 

Avril told me that she'd been a Probation Officer - 

She'd worked in the North East, visiting estates where there were packs of dogs - 

A large man shouted where will Labour get the money from? 

Tory houses have a twee look said Frances - 

11.00

Saturday April 18 2015

Bell Street 

Swanage 

Dorset 

Wanstead Flats ...

We kept to the well lit road, skirting the dark expanse of Wanstead Flats - 

Earlier, crossing this green edgeland, we'd seen men in camo trousers, sitting cross legged on the grass, gulping Zeltas - the sun was low in the sky - 

Latvian builders Sophie had said - 

Now it was almost midnight - 

Large Victorian villas faced the darkness - fan lights glowed with homely light - our shadows were thin black creatures moving behind us - 

I looked out over the Flats - I could see the glass towers of Canary Wharf, shining like wicked jewels - 

11.30

Sunday 12 April 2015

Aldersbrook Road

London E12

Dim Sum ...

The willowy Chinese boy sashayed out of the kitchen - he placed the bamboo steamers upon the pale wood of the table - 

We could see the cook, bent over his mysterious vessels - 

The dim sum cafe was empty save for the three of us - 

Mini cabs prowled the street outside - 

Sophie and I had met Paul in The Forest Gate Tavern - we'd walked to Leytonstone - 

This was the first time I'd eaten shaomai - 

Each mouthful was strange and wonderful - 

My chop sticks were magician's wands - 

22.00

April 12 2015

The Panda Dim Sum Cafe

Leytonstone 

George the Poet ...

 

Listening to George the Poet, my eyes pricked with tears - the pale cinders of my heart caught fire - 

Each of his words spoke truth to power - I felt as if I were in a city the night before a revolution - 

Rays of light swept over our heads - my body pulsed to the music of glorious disorder - the band were the disciples of a fiery prophet - 

Sophie danced and whooped - the crowd moved like a passionate animal - 

Each moment was a moment of joy and promise - 

22.00

Monday 13 April 2015

Village Underground

Shoreditch 

London

Sitting in Counter Albion ...

I'm sitting in Counter Albion, in Redchurch Street, on my way to Shoreditch - 

Beautiful obscure hop hop is playing -

Strange pictures adorn the distressed walls - 

Slender bravos open up their wafer thin lap tops -

Two girls with piercings sip sparkling water - 

I've gazed wide eyed at street art - 

A turquoise sea billowed over the wall of a house - a bird with black feathers perched on outrageous hair - 

16.30

Monday April 13 2015

Counter Albion

Redchurch Street

London

The golden apples ...

I'm in Sophie's realm - Blondie is singing in the Scratch Bar - 

The boy behind the bar says we had to stop playing trance, we were all falling asleep - 

There's a blackboard with with a list of beers with names like Camden Gentleman's Wit - 

I've just taken part in some gentle immersive theatre - 

A sleepy cherub climbed down from the ceiling - we fed him a golden apple - 

16.26

Sunday April 12 2015

BAC

Lavender Hill 

London

Take off ...

I sit in my window seat - the white jet races down the runway - I feel joy and terror fill my heart - 

The leaden earth falls away - 

The jet's shadow beneath us carries our ghosts - 

Above the shining clouds we sip capuccinos - 

We skirt heaven in the frozen air - 

11.00

23 March 2015

Monarch Jet

Above the Atlantic

Swanage steeped in strangeness ...

Walking to the Quarr Gallery, I saw the mist come in from the sea - 

The air grew cold - bare legged visitors shivered on the esplanade - 

Moment by moment, the seaside town was steeped in strangeness - 

Wraiths swirled through the arcade - buildings became palaces of smoke - 

When I left the meeting, two hours later, I heard the sound of the invisible sea - street lamps spun balls of light - 

I wore a crown of vapour - my footsteps took me to the edge of the world - 

21.30

Thursday 9 April 2015

Swanage

The Calle de la Iglesias ...

On our way to the Cuatro Esquinas, or to the Blue House, we'd walk up the Calle de la Iglesia - 

Each side of the long narrow street were the silent dreaming houses - their windows were shuttered - the tall doors were closed - 

No one was to be seen or heard - each house guarded its secret life - 

Birds sang in hidden gardens - a cypress tree grew behind a high wall - above was a deep blue sky - 

We listened in vain for a voice - all we heard were the songs of the captive birds, the murmur of dreams -

March 2015

The Calle de la Iglesia 

San Miguel 

Tenerife

 

Swimming at El Medano ...

I threw my clothes upon the dark sand to swim in the turquoise sea - I left my watch inside one of my canvas shoes - 

Once in the water, my body roped with foam, I felt the pale years slide off me, scales washed away by the joyous waves - 

I remembered learning to swim, an artless boy, off the rocky shore of Malta - I would swim underwater, jewels of air spilling from my mouth - 

My skin was then unmarked, my blood innocent of treachery - my eyes were open to marvels - 

I watched the sails of the kite surfers zig zagging through the bright salty air - 

After my swim, I lay upon the warm sand, my heart dancing inside my chest - 

Anne then walked into the sea - she swam away from the shore with bold movements of her legs and arms - 

On the wooden walkways above the beach, wild girls sold jewellery - 

I heard the ancient sound of the sea - the sun soon dried my body - there was still salt in my hair - 

15.30

Sunday 29 March 2015

El Medano Beach

Tenerife 

Coffee con leche ...

Drinking coffee con leche in the courtyard of the Cuatro Esquinas, I saw a tiny fearless bird, searching for fragments of magdalenas - 

Above us, a girl opened a window - she'd thrown back the blue shutters - a dark room was filled with light - 

I pictured a tall wardrobe, plain blue walls, sinuous sheets - 

The jefe smiled his careful smile - 

We drank our coffee - I felt as though I were a character in a novel by Javier Marias -  

There I was, under an uncertain sky, haunted by shadows in a bright street - 

11.30

Sunday 29 March 2015

Courtyard of the Cuatro Esquinas

San Miguel

Tenerife

Finding the sea again ...

As we walked onto the beach, we could hear three swimmers yelling joyously in the icy dazzling sea - 

Dark glistening kelp clothes the Ringstead Ledges -

We are lolling upon shining pebbles, sipping coffee from our silver flasks - 

A salty wind is blowing against my face - I'm wearing sun glasses - 

Clouds are slowly moving across the pale blue  sky - 

A container ship floats upon the sea like a felled space cruiser - 

On top of the cliffs, White Nothe Cottages harbour memories of winter storms - 

The three swimmers are now sunning themselves, two young women and one young man - they lie close to each other, stretched out upon the coarse sand - 

I wonder who they are, and what thoughts are passing through their heads - 

We resolve to swim here in the summer, to walk again through the abandoned aboretum, past the strange house lost amongst the trees - 

Once more we'd suddenly glimpse the sea, finding a prize we'd never deserved to find - 

12.00

Monday April 6 2015

Ringstead Bay

Dorset

The Tiger Moth ...

After sticky toffee pudding, we walked from Middle Beach towards Bramble Bay - 

Pete told me about the customers who visited The Yellow Shop - 

There was Paul, who treated him to a sausage roll every other day - 

Paul had told Pete over the watch batteries that he'd done time - in the 1960's he'd killed a taxi driver - he didn't have the money for the fare Pete said - 

Maire wore blue converses - 

Herring gulls watched dads playing cricket - 

We heard the noise of a small aircraft - there, flying low over the dunes, was a Tiger Moth - 

I thought of Antoine de Saint-Exupery - what would it be like, I wondered, to fly at night over oceans of sand? 

15.30

Sunday April 5 2015

Middle Beach

Studland 

Fragrant shadows dancing inside the Blue House ...

Whenever we drove into San Miguel, we saw the Blue House, not far from the Cuatro Esquinas, where we'd drink cafe con leche in the courtyard - 

I would admire the pale blue walls of the house, the way the palm trees moved in the wind, the strange succulents in the terraced garden -

One morning we visited the house - but all of its doors were closed to us - shutters were drawn across each high window - 

The mazey streets of the town brimmed with sunlight - 

I smelt the scent of Brazil on the warm wind - 

Rich dreams were blowing in from the sea - fragrant shadows were dancing inside the blue house - 

11.30

Saturday 28 March 2015

The Blue House

San Miguel de Abona

Tenerife