The waitress and the hare ...

I'm sitting in an oak panelled room, dimly lit by two chandeliers -

A waitress wearing a black dress took me to my table - 

A white apron hung from her narrow waist - 

She took my order as though I were sharing a secret - 

I'm one of only a few diners - 

Judge Jeffreys presided over a Bloody Assize in this room - 

I can see his portrait, his face inside a golden frame - 

The waitress returns - 

I wonder how many conversations she's overheard this morning - 

Each confidence would be like a hare, half glimpsed in a silent field -

12.30

Thursday 7 January 2016

The Oak Room Tearoom

Dortchester

They walked in the light of heaven ...

This morning, we walked from Kimmeridge to Swyre Head - 

We donned our boots in the quarry above the village - 

An avenue of slender leafless trees led to the church - 

I remembered the dark pews, the touch of cold stone - 

Clavel Tower overlooked the bay - I pictured the Reverend John Richards Clavell, a book of sermons in his pocket, climbing its winding stair - 

The January sun cast long shadows -  

We set off along the ridgeway, the wind blowing from the west - 

Three pheasants flew low across the path - 

Sheep grazed the steeply sloping fields facing the sea - 

Their eyes were like strange jewels - they walked in the light of heaven - 

11.30

Wednesday 6 January 2015

Above Smedmore House

Purbeck 

Dorset 

That sultry summer came back to me ...

This morning I returned John Conolly's Night Music to Wareham Library - 

You should join Anne had said - you can't just keep on buying books - there's no room for them all - 

She was right - 

My shelves were piled high, double packed, with lurid pulps, raffish memoirs, venerable Everymans - 

Window ledges were freighted with moleskines and journals of pyschogeography -

The library was warm and silent - eager volumes waited for readers -

I remembered all the libraries that I'd loved - 

There I was, aged twelve, borrowing BB's The Little Grey Men - 

I'd cycled up Palmyra Road, breathless and artless, ready for wonder - 

There I was, in the library overlooking Gordon Square, borrowing Stubbs' Constitutional History - 

I'd met Beverley over bound copies of the Hampshire Chronicle in the old Portsmouth City Library - 

She'd placed my hand upon her tawny skin, smiling her calm slow motion smile - 

It was in Beverley's flat that I'd first seen Anne - 

That sultry summer came back to me, the smell of warm grass, joints, perfumed hair - 

11.30

Tuesday 5 January 2016

Wareham Library

Wareham

Dorset

We would swim towards the sunrise ...

Sheep grazing on Ballards Down watched us pass by - 

The sun was low in the sky - the Norman church cast its ancient shadow - 

We'd climbed the steep slopes as though we were pilgrims - 

Bright chieftains lay under the grass - 

Below the cliffs, the wind wrote names upon the sea - 

Old Harry was necklaced with foam - 

Ocean's mother served us tea as twilight fell - 

I resolved to swim with her at the Summer Solstice - 

I would walk into the sea with the other fervent swimmers - 

We would swim towards the sunrise, our bodies coloured a reddish gold - 

16.30

Sunday 3 January 2016

Studland

Dorset 

Already I felt the turning world beneath my feet ...

I'm trying to change chords without looking down at my fingers Richard said - 

The ukulele hung from his neck, a vessel for midnight ballads - 

I imagined Richard playing his ukelele on the Camino - 

Beyond the cathedral was the fathomless ocean - 

The white moon moved across the starry sky - 

The new year stretched forth its forgiving arms - 

I resolved to go on pilgrimage - 

Already I felt the turning world beneath my feet, the shape of a scallop shell in my hands - 

19.30

Saturday 2 January 2016

Horse's Necks ...

Before she started the conjuring of a subtle curry, Anne fixed the Horse's Necks - 

She poured the slugs of brandy into noble glasses, then added ginger ale and twists of lemon - 

We listened to some Ballake Sissoko - 

I raised my brimmer whilst Anne sliced up red onions - 

I remembered drinking Manhattans in Varadero - 

Each day then I'd looked over the edge of the world - 

I put down my cocktail - 

Outside the bright house there was darkness - 

19.30

Thursday 31 December 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset

The Ancient Gaffer ...

How old do you think I am? - I'm 82 - I've worked all my life - 

I started work aged 15 - I was a gardener's boy, out at Sandford - I worked for an old lady - she was terrible - if she saw just a bit of grass, she'd make you dig it all over again - I could have throttled her and buried her - 

Then I got a job on the clay pits - digging trenches - dredging the river - they gave me machines to play with - I said - of course I can bloody do that - 

There were six of us - there's only two of us left now, me and my sister - 

I'm going home to my railway - I've got a shed 20 feet by 10 feet - my train set's in there - 

I've got two gauges, Double O and narrow gauge, big engines and little engines - 

I've got a blue Mallard - 

I saw it once - whoosh! - and it was gone! - 

My grand niece likes the trains, she's up to here - she works at Monkey World - they had two thousand visitors two days ago - just to look at some monkeys!

We could go there - three monkeys! - 

We were walking along The Causeway, back to the Town Quay - 

I'd seen the gaffer, lurching gamely towards us in the rain - 

He had bright blue eyes and a shock of crazy hair - 

He was like the Ancient Mariner - we listened despite the wind and rain - 

We had to wrench our eyes away from his - 

I'm on to Stoborough Green he said at last - 

We walked on - 

Visitors in cagoules wished us a Happy New Year - 

Boats rode the grey river - rain clouds filled the sky - the church tower hoarded sermons - 

The gentle town was empty - 

It was the first day of the new year -

12.35

Friday 1 January 2016

The Causeway

Wareham