Watching Halloween Fireworks ...

After glasses of Hobgoblin in the Rugby Club bar, we went outside - Mid Life Crisis were covering some rock and roll classics - on the walls of the bar were framed rugby shirts - a broad chested man pulled pints of dark ale - body snatchers joshed ashen faced yokels - a witch with a tiny cauldron dangling from her hand wore a purple dress - a thin boy waved a glimmering light sabre - 

We stood amongst the Halloween revellers listening to the band - it was warm and dark - I could smell wet grass, methylated spirits and wood smoke - some lithe girls were dancing and laughing - a man with curly hair started twisting - Tessa WhatsApp'd Charlie - Lorry rock! - 

We snarfed cones of piping hot chips, drenched with vinegar, slippery with tomato ketchup - making our way to the bonfire, we passed by the Gyro Spaceball - a youth was being spun round and round - I thought of the grainy footage I'd seen of doomed cosmonauts, whirled round in a centrifuge - 

Pallets were blazing in a skip - yellow flames were long twisting streamers in the night wind - 

When the fireworks painted the black sky with glorious dazzling shapes I gasped with joy - I could stand here for hours, I thought, my spirit soaring above the dreaming town - 

21.00

October 31 2014

Standing near the bonfire

Wareham and Swanage Rugby Club

Wareham

Walking down West Street on the night of Halloween ...

Walking down West Street on the night of Halloween, I thought that every house must be full of gentle ghosts - a white moon sailed over the roofs of Wareham - pale beautiful faces were pressed against the shapely bow window of Number 41 - 

Family groups preceded us on the way to the bonfire - small boys costumed as ghouls ran past The Rex - dads wearing black capes waited for the traffic lights to change - two vampire vixens sashayed out of The Antelope - 

Inside The Georgian House, I saw distressed furniture arranged on faded Persian carpets - a sturdy girl stirred chips in Long John's - 

I felt a surge of affection for this ancient town - perhaps, any moment, I'd see a coven of witches, flying over the old Townhall, their broomsticks trailing emerald flames - 

18.30

October 31 2014

West Street

Wareham

Venturing out into the marsh ...

I found a path, wavering through the marshes, away from the road - leaving my three companions behind me, I made my way towards the distant waters of the Firth - 

Cattle and sheep grazed, surefooted, on bright green islands of pasture, separated by winding channels - I jumped over ribbons of silky glistening mud - 

I remembered, as a bare legged boy, playing amongst the mud flats off Priddy's Hard in Gosport - I'd paddled in calm lagoons, watching the tide rise, covering the curving banks of ooze - 

I'd felt happy, free from care, floating empty oil drums along the scrubby shore, exploring the secret ways between the thickets of bramble and alder - 

Those hours came back to me as I ventured further out, far from the road - I wondered what had happened to the boys who'd built dens and splashed through puddles with me - 

I cast off these thoughts before melancholy fell upon me - 

I went out as far as I could - water started welling up in my footsteps - I was still far from the bright Firth - sea birds flew above my head - 

Reluctantly I turned back, making my way back to the road - as I did so, I felt my years return, coiling around me like beautiful snakes -

I saw three small dark figures waiting for me - 

11.45

15 July 2014

The marshes 

Boustead Hill 

Cumbria

Women in black at Boustead Hill ...

Boustead Hill overlooked the marshes bordering Solway Firth - the tide was out - dark birds flew over the reed beds - water glistened in narrow creeks - 

In the distance, I could glimpse stretches of bright yellow sands - beyond was the brimming estuary, flowing swiftly to the sea - 

Cattle grazed on the rough pasture near the road - signs warned motorists of flooding at high tide - 

Above the roofs of the lonely silent houses was the vast turbulent sky - 

Perfect for women in black said Alyson - 


17.05

14 July 2014

Boustead Hill

The dog walker from Burgh-By-Sands ...

Soon after we'd been dropped off by taxi at Boustead Hill, we met a walker in a wax jacket with two eager lolloping dogs - 

They're Collie Staffie crosses he said - 

I kept in check my long held dread of dogs, nurtured ever since I was a paper boy - these questing bright eyed creatures surged towards us, delving into Julia's backpack with their glistening muzzles - she brushed them away with a casual, fearless, gesture - 

Observations about breeds of dogs were exchanged - I kept silent, having no knowledge of dogs, but a more general conversation then ensued - 

I wouldn't live anywhere else our new acquaintance said - but the weather's the thing - it's very wet, all the year round - 

He pointed out towards the Firth - during the war, pilots were trained there, flying Hudsons - they called it Hudson Bay - 

I mentioned the marshes - they're dangerous he said - the tide comes in, in a circle, and very fast - 

He looked out, over the narrow winding creeks between the reeds - it's eerie at night here, when its raining and wild, and there are red lights over there - 

I imagined him, on winter afternoons, hurrying back to the car with his dogs, the darkness coming down upon this beautiful and desolate place - 

11.00

July 15 2014 

Boustead Hill
Cumbria

At Durlston Castle with Richard ...

It was some time since Richard had visited Swanage - we walked down Institute Road, past the gorilla - he was wearing a skull mask for Halloween - 

We spent some time in the Oxfam bookshop - I bought Alan Garner's Stradloper - I'd read his Boneland last winter, and was still haunted by it - 

Richard bought an illustrated copy of A Shropshire Lad - I read a few of the beautiful anguished verses - we both, perhaps, hungered for a land of lost content - 

A friend from Semi Colons greeted me - we shared experiences of colonoscopies - I realized how fond I had become of my fellow bowel cancer survivors - 

In Smiths I stared at my reflection in an antique mirror - I admired a venerable motor cycle - 

Later we lunched on a picante soup in Durlston Castle - I watched the beautiful waitress sashay from table to table - 

Richard placed bets on horses with names like Letmego and Vazaro Delafayette - 

I showed Richard around the Victorian castle - we went up a wrought iron spiral staircase to the belvedere - we gazed out at the cloud shadowed sea -

13.30

23 October 2014

Durlston Castle

Swanage 

Durdle Door and Man of War ...

We looked down on Durdle Door from the cliff top, breathless and exalted - a wild gale blew in from the sea - foaming waves poured through the arch - 

We had walked from West Lulworth, sheltered for a while by Hambury Tout - upon the summit of the chalk hill were two tumuli, smooth green mounds under the shining sky - 

Now we were a few feet from the cliff edge, exposed to the full force of the wind - two gulls soared above our heads, daring the turbulent air - there were white horses upon the heaving sparkling sea - 

We made our way downwards by the winding stair to the beach opposite Man of War - 

Spray crowned the line of rocks off shore - we sat on the glistening shingle, listening to the waves - 

11.30

21 October 2014

Durdle Door

Isle of Purbeck