Riding the X 53 ...

We sipped early morning cappuccinos in The Salt Pig - 

They were serving breakfasts, thick slices of artisan bread, Dorset honey, scrambled organic Cedar eggs, rare breed sausage - 

A gentle oldster read his kindle - 

Looking out the cafe window, I saw Wareham's holy fool lurching up North Street - he was wearing his antique Barbour - his wild hair and beard were bejewelled with raindrops - 

I caught the X53 bus back to East Stoke - I sat with the Poole babushkas, who were gossiping about hospitals and broadband - 

I read a notice tellng me that Sarah Ashby had named this double decker Portland Bill - 

The bravo at the wheel raced the Weymouth train from Wogret to Middlefield Cottages - 

10.30

Thursday 10 December 2015

Wareham to East Stoke

Jonathon tells us about Nigel ...

Nigel was a dream patient said Jonathon - he was good natured and compliant - 

I was eighteen - in a locked ward with fifteen men and a charge nurse who'd been in the army - 

I'd had no training - they just gave me a white coat and a bunch of keys - 

One evening, Nigel went up to the door of the ward, which was locked - he tried and tried to open it, rattling and kicking it - 

The charge nurse shouted, louder and louder - Nigel! - stop that!! - 

There was more and more anger in the air - 

Poor Nigel - you saw his shoulders slump - he crept away - humiliated, like a beaten child - 

All that Nigel wanted was to walk through the door, away from these men with strange faces - 

12.00

Wednesday 10 December 2015

Responding to Challnging Behaviours in Dementia Course

Petersfield Community Centre

Somewhere, upstairs, there's a small artificial Christmas tree ...

I'm sitting on the sofa in the lounge of memory - 

My mum's watching Pointless - 

Anne's ironing tea towels - 

My dad's reading a Grisham he borrowed from the Day Centre - 

I remember how he used to read The Reprieve - 

Ah he'd say - Mathieu - he's the man - 

Now, the foxed Penguin Modern Classic is obscured by a Harlan Coben - 

On top of the gas fire I can see Bud Abbot's Christmas Card - 

Bud joined up with my dad - 

They were bold chippies together, watching RKO pictures in Babylonian temples, smoking Senior Sevice outside dance halls - 

In other cards are the gentle words of sisters - 

Somewhere, upstairs, there's a small artificial Christmas tree - 

17.35

Tuesday 8 December 2015

Staunton Road

Havant 

Drinking Tanglefoot in the Premier Inn ...

I'm drinking Tanglefoot in the Premier Inn - 

I lay in my bath like Nancy Cunard, wreathed in kindly steam - 

Anne's watching Simply Nigella - 

White Skodas are drawn up outside the nearby Beefeater - 

In the carpark I heard the sighing motorway - 

 

A few miles away, my mum and dad are looking at beloved armchairs - 

20.45

Monday 7 November 2015

Premier Inn

Havant 

It was time, I thought, for parsnip soup ...

This afternoon, I drove to Studland - 

I walked along Knoll Beach towards Bramble Bay - 

The beach was deserted, save for a few women walking their dogs - 

The dunes made me think of stories by M R James - 

I might find a golden crown, or see a shape steal across the dark hollows - 

I saw hoof prints in the sand, an oak leaf washed up by the sea, migrating birds - 

The sky was full of cloud - 

On the horizon, a cargo ship sailed away to some bright shore - 

I remembered two recent dreams - 

It was time, I thought, for parsnip soup - 

14.30

Sunday 6 December 2015

Knoll Beach

Studland

Watching The Avengers ...

A week or so ago, we bought a clever TV cable from PC World - 

All around us were shiny marvels - 

I'd gazed, spellbound, at the sleek tablets and wicked video games - 

Now we can access all of the freeview channels on our smart TV - 

Anne can watch Dog Whisperer whenever she wants to -  I can watch Nazi Mega Structures or Most Haunted - 

Last night, I watched an ancient episode of The Avengers - 

There was John Steed, in black and white, smiling his urbane murderous smile - 

Emma Peel was a slender delight in leather - my heart pounded wildly seeing her fell a sneering mastermind - 

I took no notice of the preposterous plot - 

It was enough to see John Steed rescue Emma Peel from a devilish machine, to hear them laughing as they jumped into a mini moke, driving off into the 1960's - 

21.00

Friday 4 December 2015

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset

Walking through the arboretum to the sea ...

The path down to the sea was half hidden by fallen leaves - 

They're Sycamore and Maple Penelope said - 

She picked up a leaf from the path, tracing its marvellous shape with her forefinger - the leaf was a pale yellowy gold - 

An avenue of near leafless trees was bathed in December sunlight -

The arboretum had long been left to nature - no gardeners, clad in corduroy, carried billhooks or coppiced hazel - 

Only ghosts lingered by the ornamental ponds, green now with algae - 

We walked past drifts of bamboo - a noble fir brushed heaven - 

Bright water ran over pebbles in a stream bed - 

We heard a pheasant screeching in a covert - 

On the beach, Penelope showed me a white shell - 

Waves broke upon the shingle - the air smelled of the sea and moon - 

12.00

Friday 4 December 2015

Ringstead

Dorset