Mobility scooters under dark skies

I first came across mobility scooters inside Poole Hospital - I have to go there for blood tests and CT scans on a regular basis - I was sitting in Yellow Clinic, waiting to be called, when I looked up and saw a man riding a mobility scooter - I'd seen the red shape of the scooter just out of the corner of my eye - the rubber tyres of the scooter made no noise as they rolled over the floor -

In Yellow Clinic, there are neat stacks of magazines - I always try to read the same copy of Dorset Life whilst waiting for my appointment - other patients sit with their magazines, also going through the motions of pretending to read - all of us are afraid of hearing very bad news -

The faces of the specialist nurses never give anything away if you meet them before your appointment - you must wait for the correct moment to be told what stories your tissues recite -

Christopher Hitchens spoke of being carjacked to the country of the ill - for me, mobility scooters, swishing down a white corridor, remind me of that country's frontier -

I saw these mobility scooters on Eastbourne esplanade - six riders set off into the distance, two in front, four clustered together, further back - they don't look round - they move off under huge clouds - a string of light bulbs blows back and forth in a salty gale -

There's a shuttered beach shop in the foreground - an empty sea under the dark sky -

Eastbourne seafront

Dark skies, full of towering cloud, pressed down upon the sea - waves the colour of lead crashed upon the shore - dark tarred wooden groynes were almost buried by drifts of shingle - when I opened the door of the red car, I had to be careful to stop the wind wrenching it from my grasp - salty air stung my face - I felt that it would soon rain -

Behind me, I saw a row of tall Victorian buildings, with balconies and bay windows, five stories high - they were hotels, with their dining rooms facing the sea - I could see old people finishing their breakfasts, staring out at the sea -

To my right, I could see the distant pier - the structures on the pier, from where I stood, looked like a temple - I imagined strange celebrants, wearing golden crowns, processing over the beach -

The esplanade, however, in this reality was almost deserted - only one hardy couple was braving the cold - I turned, crossing the road, to explore the town -

Spiral staircases 

Whenever I go up a spiral staircase, I feel my senses become more acute - I'm aware that I'm leaving the world where you can see what is in front of you -

Stepping onto a spiral staircase, I have no idea what is beyond the curve of the stairs, or what awaits me at the end of my passage - my imagination conjures a whole gang of possibilities - it seems as if the membrane of the world is dissolving around me -

I have climbed up stone spiral staircases in church or cathedral towers - as a boy, I scampered up damp stones in Norman castles -

I can remember moving upwards, counter clockwise - the tapered stone steps beneath my feet  would be worn and uneven - I would trace my fingers over the cool dark stone of the curving walls, feeling fissures or carvings - I would then emerge, dazzled with bright sunlight, looking down upon the tangled alleyways and squares of a southern city, or, perhaps, shivering from the wind, look down upon rainswept fields around a sad graveyard -

Recently, I took a tube to Russell Square - I was going to see Jay in his eyrie in the Institute - one of the two lifts was out of order - a crowd milled at the lift gates - I climbed upwards, up a spiral staircase of broad steps - I felt that I was entering Greeneland - the man on the step in front of me, carrying a suitcase, became a tired gun runner - the young woman below me, with her headphones and hipster clothes, became the mistress of a burnt out academic - the journey upwards seemed to take an age - I felt that I was moving upwards through layers of time -

When I emerged, onto the street, I turned to look at the red tiled facade of the tube station - my fellow climbers shrank back into being their normal selves - I walked across Russell Square, under the plane trees - the sky was full of low cloud -

Using internet cafes

Before I was beguiled by Wi Fi and I Phones, I made use of internet cafes whenever I was abroad - I would  send e-mails to friends describing what I'd seen or heard - I used to marvel at the fact that my breathless reports would arrive immediately wherever I'd sent them - I would imagine seeing the words flying through space quicker than a thought -

The first internet cafe I really made use of was in Fish Hoek - I was staying in the Freeman's house during the Easter Holidays - the KLM 747 had flown from Amsterdam to Cape Town, with an hour stop at Johannesburg - during the night I'd moved from a world of watery pale light to one where every colour was vivid and profound - I'd soared over mountains, deserts, huge rivers snaking through deep jungles -

The internet cafe in Fish Hoek wasn't far from the beach - the sea was warm and a startling blue - the whole of the southern Indian Ocean was before me when I stood on the sand - inside the cafe, the PCs were old and clunky, with small screens - I felt as though I was on another planet, sending messages to the world I'd left -

I ate a fish dinner fit for a milord in a beach restaurant - the exchange rate favoured pound sterling - there were signs telling you not to give money to the street children - Chubb Armed and Medical Response vehicles drove down the streets -

I knew someone had called South Africa God's own country - driving in my hired Golf I could see why - I'd never seen such white sand before, smelt such fragrant flowers - I'd never seen stars, like great white lamps, hanging just over your head, nor seen a moon so yellow -

But I was always aware of an invisible country of violence, co-existing with the beautiful world I saw - the townships with their warrens of hovels made out of cardboard and flattened tins - the schools encircled with barbed wire to keep out teen gunmen -

This internet cafe is in Elm Grove, Southsea - it's still got that air of being a way station, a place for sending messages to other worlds - a place where you feel yourself to be a wanderer, ready to move on as swiftly as the sentences you shape on the screen before you -

Tessa's sitting here, checking out some information on-line - I'm looking at my shadow -

With Tessa at the Garage Lounge Southsea

I can't resist eateries like this - ever since I've stopped drinking, I've taken to indulging myself with cappuccinos and pastries - I used to love the taste of drink - I would imagine gentle flames flickering over my bones as I became tipsy - I would laugh at my own witticisms - even the smell of potent ales would make me dizzy - I would gulp down Sancerre or False Bay Pinotage like an indolent flaneur - 

But now, I share a bottle of beer with Anne every Friday night - living with cancer has made me review my drinking habits - 

The pastries here are presented beautifully - they look like Nicholas Hillliard miniatures - you feel like a brute when you snarf away - 

Underfoot are scrubbed bare floor boards - sofas and chaise longues are arranged artfully - gilt mirrors reflect the louche street outside - there are rows of glass jars, filled with exotic teas - a Morrocan lamp hangs from the high ceiling - 

I try, shamelessly, to eavesdrop conversations - Tessa pours out her cup of tea from a white teapot - I grin whilst lifting my cappuccino - 

Remembering ouija boards

Seeing this building in Southsea, I was reminded of my early fascination for oiuja boards - when I was in my teens I loved reading about ghosts, poltergeists, vampires - I was transfixed with the idea that a dark world was hidden behind the world I lived in - I wondered if the everyday things I saw in my narrow streets might  any moment dissolve, rippling like a liquid curtain - I would then see wonders and horrors -

Three or four of us discovered ouija boards - we would place monopoly letters in a circle - one scrap of paper had yes written on it, another had no written  on it - these scraps of paper were placed opposite each other, on the circumference of the circle of letters - I never failed to marvel how the upended glass flew from letter to letter, or from yes to no - beautiful icy thrills went through my heart -

Richard's dad was a spiritualist - Richard said of he spoke of the planes - the invisible worlds or dimensions where spirits dwelt - as I delivered my newspapers in Bramber Road, I would think of these spirits - I would remember, too, the strange messages they had spelled out -

The Portsmouth Temple of Spiritualism is located in a row of late Victorian villas, with white stucco fronts and high bow windows - tall trees line the street - the sky above, when I saw it, was like a grey sheet -

Getting over hangovers in cafes

I saw this cafe in Southsea, at the end of Victoria Road South - I liked the look of it - I admired its workmanlike appearance - I relished the plain yellow frontage, the take away menu with its red and black lettering, the striped awning over the door - here was a place where breakfasts were served all day - where you'd be asked if you wanted real tomatoes or tinned tomatoes -

Richard's judgement of the Cottage Cafe went, I think, right to the heart of the matter - decent breakfasts - run by a brusque gaffer with a Thai wife - 

But seeing the Cottage Cafe, reminded me of all the times I had entered such places to get over hangovers - the number of times I had nursed my head, reeling inside a cafe like this - I would ask for scrambled eggs with tinned tomatoes - I would gulp down a mug of scalding coffee - gaze dully at the huge poster of the Portsmouth Football Team - avoid the special table where the sinister taxi drivers sat -

Very slowly I would start to feel myself again - sometimes my arms would seem longer than usual - it would be a relief not to hear music being played backwards, jangling inside my head -

At last, I would push aside my plate, look at Richard, and get up from the table - later I would look up at the fresh blue sky -