Meeting Martin ...

We met Alyson and Martin at the bus stop opposite Rhymers, not far from Burt's Hotel - 

The Number 67 Perryman bus was on time - 

Alyson brimmed with charm and mischief - 

You two are Gosport lads she grinned, looking at me, then at Martin - 

It was true - Martin and I had both gone to Brune Park School - 

We'd both been slippered by Mr Emmanuel, Martin for pushing a boy, myself for skulking and malingering - 

Miss Lowe had terrified us both - she was a tiny woman whose gown gave her two black wings - 

Were you ritually humiliated at the blackboard too? asked Martin - 

Yes - she called me out I said - were you taught by Mr Symonds ?

We called him Frank said Martin - because he looked like a gangster! - 

I remembered those straining suits - my gang called him Simbo - 

We fished for names and faces - 

There was a Miss Bursill Martin said - 

I recalled a young woman with thick ankles - 

Then whilst I was thinking it, Martin said the words aloud - 

Most of them must be gone now - 

18.45

Wednesday 1 July 2015

Melrose 

Harmony Garden ...

Harmony Garden was bathed in golden light - 

A long limbed girl read her book in the shade of a lime tree - 

Warm breezes carried the scents of many flowers - 

It was late afternoon - 

Penelope and I walked up to the house overlooking the gentle lawns - 

I pictured the man for whom it was built, a planter returned from Jamaica - 

He'd made his wicked fortune under a tropic sky - 

The house and garden were named after his plantation - 

He would hear the calls of emerald birds whenever he closed his eyes - 

When moonlight entered the house, strange constellations would cover the skies - 

17.00

Wednesday 1July 2015

Harmony Garden

Melrose 

At the Ormiston Institute ...

The courtly oldster ran his hands through his hair - 

These silver coins would be enough for a centurion's pay for one year he said - perhaps they were - 

We gazed at the shining denarii - I could see, very clearly, the profiles of Emperors and Empresses - 

Each small coin shone, as if immersed in icy water - 

The oldster, the curator of the museum, pointed to a denarius of Commodus - 

There are some bad ones here he chuckled - 

We were in the Corn Exchange, an austere reef of stone, home of the Ormiston Institute - 

One room sufficed to house the museum - 

Inside the Institute's reading room, a sign warned readers not to drink alcohol during Reading Room hours - 

A large pale man emerged from the cavernous jakes - he gestured at a shoal of steamy paperbacks - 

Take any you like he said - 

16.45

Wednesday 1 July 2015

The Ormiston Institute 

The Corn Exchange

Melrose 

Priorwood Orchard ...

A high wall enclosed the orchard - pale stone girdled its ancient trees -

Penelope and I followed paths mown through waist high grass - delicate leaves hanging from lichened branches provided shade - 

Memories of apple harvests hung above our heads - the trees dreamed their slow dreams - 

I imagined drinking cider made from Old Pearmain or Oslin apples - 

I would drink long golden autumns from my glass - 

Bells in the abbey would sound for compline - 

Shadows would lengthen as day gave way to night -  

16.00

Wednesday 1 July 2015

Priorwood Orchard

Melrose Abbey

My heart like a ragged bird ...

We followed my mum and dad as they walked towards the Meridian Centre - 

My mum pushed her sholley - my dad was keen to buy a pack of four and a bottle - 

We'd got my dad to use his stick - 

It'll make me look like old he'd said - 

I wondered how it would be, to walk with tiny steps, my heart like ragged bird, perched upon my ribs - 

10.00

Monday 20 July 2015

Havant

My mum watches children playing cricket in the park ...

I took my mum to the park this morning -

It was Anne's idea - they're not going to church she said - they'll get restless - 

My dad said he preferred Canon Brown to the new vicar - 

When I went round to see him he told us - Canon Brown always offered me a glass - 

My mum sat in the front passenger seat of the Golf - 

I drove as if she were made of sparrows' bones - 

In the park, we watched children playing cricket -

My mum's eyes shone -

Look at them she said - the little ones - 

We sat under the trees - I held her hand -

Birds sang - 

The bright sun moved across the sky - 

11.30

Sunday 19 July 2015

Havant 

Melrose Abbey, peregrinatio perpetua ...

I stood between broken columns, gazing upwards at the sky - 

A high window framed clouds and heaven - 

I remembered how grace might suddenly be bestowed - 

Swallows flew around the heads of lichened saints - 

Prayer drenched stone cast shadows upon the grass - 

I walked through the cloisters, now a haunt of butterflies -  

Peregrinatio perpetua I thought - each one of us walks towards the east - 

15.00

Wednesday 1 July 2015

Melrose Abbey