It is indeed the summer’s day that makes a living being glad.
before the heat has hit and forced all mortal men into the shade.
a floral filtered gentle breeze informs the fragrance of the morn
and coffee permeates the open windowed terraces of town.
The farm panorama. Bird talks to bird. Milking noises off. River ripples, slides past stone beach. Beetle sized cars scurry along hedge-hidden road. Cardboard cut hills provide backdrop. Woodland and fields.
for Chris Conder
On a sunny May day, a big day
the knot splicers rock up and,
in front of a gallery, friends and relations,
admirers, demonstrate their commitment
to unity.
Corks pop and glasses ring out,
excited faces beam happy cheers,
a thrilled and timeless love dance
forever in tune.
sat in the eurostar departure lounge. the checkin process was easy as being nearly two hours early there was nobody else there. debated whether to upgrade to business premier so that I could use the lounge but they don’t do that any more apaz. the decision was always going to depend on how much they wanted to charge me anyway but they took that problem away.
I found a table to sit at so it isn’t a massive biggie but the main issue now is that as the departure lounge fills up every bugger is on their phone and the internet bandwidth has dwindled from v low to non existent.
I’m in two minds about eurostar. The actual on train experience itself is fine apart from the fact that you are mostly offline. it’s the flexibility of tickets that is constraining plus the horrendous queues and taking an hour to get through security at St Pancras.
Enough of this negativity. I’m treating meself to a few glasses of wine on the train, unless they have cold beer.
On the train and settling in. Somehow found myself in the window seat on a table for four. How did that happen?
jeremy from yara
…
there are only 3 of us in this carriage. My laptop is picking up 3 wifi networks. LNER, Charlotte’s iPhone and one called Bollocks to Brexit. I now know the name of the woman sat at the table in front of me although I can’t see an iPhone.
The LNER one is too difficult to log onto and I always just use my own phone’s hotspot. Bollocks to Brexit it is then 🙂
Charlotte’s phone has disappeared. I suspect she was one of the crew changing at Grantham. Someone needs to tell her not to broadcast her hotspot. In fact why leave it on?
…
Relaxed start to the weekend. They ain’t always like this. Last weekend we were deep in preparation for a big birthday party. This weekend it is Shannon and Michael’s wedding but no rushing around doing last minute things for that and more specifically no rearranging the PA spec for the conference in Antwerp during the week.
Tomorrow we head to the south west for a balloon flight. The gentlest of flights is not a racing certainty. This morning’s departure from Victoria Park in Bath has been cancelled due to winds fractionally over the limit. The weather forecast for tomorrow looks no different to me. The slight nuisance is that we won’t get the go/no go decision until 3pm for a 6pm takeoff by which time we will be practically there. Hey…
Not written much over the past week due to a full on time in Belgium. The out of office sign went up on Thursday and will be taken down on Wednesday. I had toyed with the idea of a night in London on Wednesday night as it straddled two meetings but I’ve kicked the first into touch, influenced by the fact that I just realised there is a scouts committee meeting on the wednesday night.
We haven’t had a committee meeting since pre pandemic times. Remember those days? Mary Hopkin will be getting her geetar out and start strumming again. You need to be a certain age to get that one. Google her.
Waking up from the deep hibernation that has been the last two years the world seems totally different. Flares are no longer in fashion! A tank of fuel costs more than a mortgage payment. Baby you can drive my house. The world is at war. I shudder to think what a pint of beer costs. I rarely look 🙂
Life has been very hectic and will continue to be so until the end of June at which point the calendar suggests we throttle back and enjoy some lazy afternoons in the back garden. I know it won’t be like that but we can but dream. It’s all about striking a balance innit.
…
The back garden in the spring of 2022
On an idyllic morning the birds sing
Songs that have not changed
Since tunes began.
A careless, plentiful age, masked
By the long shadows of our troubled times.
Ashort walk
in Caernarfon
Isall ittakes
Bought some
Welsh cakes
Anda book
Butno spices
Now back
Back now
In room
Room in
in Caernarfon
Ma gurd it is wet out there. The
rain pelts down on the conservatory
roof and I have to venture out
to get jabbed. It is good that I
unblocked the drainpipe during
the week just gone, the soaking
I received a mere splash compared
With what would be were I to try it now.
suburban living. sitting in traffic, timing your tedious journey to the valuable minute, squeezing every last second out of the trip. a five minute result. five precious minutes out of the ordinary. tired in no time, life ticks away.
A random spread,
of words plucked,
from thin air,
high altitude argument,
badinage bad boys
Nightfall. A day quickly over. Curtains closed on a cold and inhospitable world.
The tea is mine. There is no room for unfounded spurious claims of ownership. Time darkens, purposeful brew. The fire flickers, roars, shouting at the hand that feeds. My attention is grabbed, enlightened. Background noises comfort. There is peace.
Leaves leave my lawn alone
Grass killer compost fodder
Unwanted dead wind drift
Shrivelleduglybrown
In the wind beaten garden, birds hide, branches fall and words scatter. Collars pulled tight on bent head daffodils.
Then the rain; incessant bird bath fill, deafening inside the conservatory.
Later skies lighten, snow is promised. Wind drops and peace descends.
Homeward bound I am, fleeing city madness and the battle against the office worker tide
Homeward bound I am, to recover from an opulent week of self indulgent excess
Homeward bound I am, to a smile and a kiss and a nice cup of tea
Homeward bound I am,
Homeward bound I am.
The world in which we live is blowing up
Brexit looms
May has failed spectacularly
And my late train, with broken toilet
Continues to evacuate itself
Returning every few minutes
Behind it’s locked facade
To a cycle of self expurgation
Oblivious to all around it
Who must seek elsewhere to find relief
And yet somehow it seems
To provide a commentary
Appropriate to this moment in history
By Bob Sleigh