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57 Varieties diary

Rodney Bay Marina 25th June 2019

Up early and sat on the balcony of our room at the Harbor Club in Rodney Bay Marina. The only people around are hotel staff getting ready for the day. The jet lag is gradually going away but I don’t actually mind waking up this early and getting some quality quiet time before the start of the day.

The hotel is by no means full. It is low season. The hurricane season in fact although reality is that hurricanes rarely venture this far south in the Caribbean and the temperature here in the Tropic of Capricorn is pretty much the same all year round. There is a higher likelihood of rain but this place must get a lot of rain – it is green and lush.

The sound of running water is very relaxing. The pool has a waterfall feature just below our room. The only thing missing is a cup of coffee but that would involve making noise and waking John up.

There is a very gentle breeze, just enough to move the palm fronds around the pool.

6.20am and it’s starting to get a little noisier. We just had a heavy rainshower breeze through but it has passed. I can smell bacon. The kitchen has started up. Shame it’s the American over cooked stuff. Two pool attendants stop for a chat. The St Lucian people are very friendly.

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57 Varieties diary travel

the surreal 2019 world of trefor davies

Hong Kong

Bangkok

London

Cardiff

Barcelona

Trafalgar Square

Brussels

Toulouse

Dublin

Manchester

Washington DC

Isle of Man

Reykjavik

Moscow

Brussels

St Lucia

2019 may represent peak surreality.

Anti Brexit demo London

Beyond The Woods Festival Horncastle

The Greenhouse

Mandarin Oriental Bangkok

The Trafalgar

The Conrad London

MO Hong Kong

Building new office at bottom of the garden

Currently drinking Laurent Perrier Grand Siecle at 40,000 feet

BA First Class flights

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57 Varieties thoughts

Easter Sunday musings

Listening to religious news programme on radio 4. It is Easter so everything is more intense. This is after the recent fire at Notre dame and now a terrorist attack on a church in Sri Lanka. There was also a piece on a monkey God called lord someone or other.

The intensity of the conversation seems to me to exacerbate the strangeness of the whole concept of religion, in particular the organised variety. I get people wanting to know how they got here but the structured way of worshipping a “god” seems very artificial.

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57 Varieties poetry

A tired night of TV

A tired night of TV, staring

A theme, that keeps repeating

Nothing on, worth watching

Screen time too long, fatiguing.

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57 Varieties

an ice cube melts

an ice cube melts invisibly in my stomach, the last act of the prince of cool. it came with my gin and did the required job. the end was private away from the glare of publicity. better than being flushed down the sink. the lemon stayed in the glass, it too redundant, thrown away. trashed. no longer wanted. not sure how i feel about it all. inanimate objects yes. as a buddhist is there a chance I could return as a slice of lemon? should that make me look at it differently? lemon aid le mon l’emon lemo n lem on and so on and so forth. forthcoming an auto correct option. ongoing. option. opt out.

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fusion

wheaten void

We have no bread. The loaf has been consumed. The last slice was surgically removed this morning and toasted along with the crust. Its purpose was served. A short, fulfilled life devoted to keeping hunger at bay. Nourishment its finest purpose and measure of its success. Now gone it has left a void…

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57 Varieties poetry

words spill slowly

Surrounded by books I drown in words.

I picture myself, alone, writing by the light of a single candle. Words spill slowly onto the page, my mind adjusting its flow to the tempo of the pen. These words seem more considered than anything that spits out at the speed of hands at a keyboard. Dancing fingers outpace thought.

Outside in the darkness a threatening wind beats invisible fists against the window. My candle flickers, a retreat into an obscure past. I am buried in the page, sucked in by words randomly thrown down. How they get there is my story.

One hundred books are removed. Ten million once read words unwanted. Ten million flourishes unemotionally scattered into the night. The candle dies but a new dawn arrives.

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57 Varieties

The movement of a foot

Discuss

The movement of a foot

A hand in bush

Cast of the dice

Rolling coverage – all the days

Bread roll

Dish of the day

Plates of the meat

Continental drift

Antipasti antidote anticoagulant

Uncle sock

Blood brother arms

Those who can do nose

Face of adversity

On the brow of the hill the foolish people play

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57 Varieties poems poetry

In the wind beaten garden

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.

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57 Varieties poems poetry

Homeward bound I am

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.

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57 Varieties

Sunday morning 3rd March

Espresso on, coffee pot noises

Half a grapefruit, livener

ClassiF cM

Moment of reflection, shiver through shoulders

Anne’s thought for the day: Hannah looks like Anti Ann apparently

Just had my jobs list read out to me. It’s the longest one in some time

  1. Order skip (and presumably fill it)
  2. Plant seeds
  3. Repair sideboard door (the one in the conservatory)
  4. Repair fence post (I reversed the car into it and it cracked in half!)
  5. Sort out downstairs loo – needs a professional
  6. Stick back missing time in utility room
  7. new light bulbs in kitchen and conservatory
  8. Fix radiator cover

This is not one that will get done quickly. My most immediate job is is to decide on what to have for breakfast. There are options although I used up all the mushrooms in the steak pie last night.

Ingredients to hand:

  1. Wholemeal bread
  2. Bacon medallions
  3. Skinny sausages (low Syn)
  4. Eggs
  5. beans , baked, one of someone else’s 57 varieties
  6. Potah toes
  7. Tinned tomatoes, whole
  8. The other half of the grapefruit
  9. Potentially some smoked salmon though I haven’t checked
  10. One green chilli
  11. One green pepper

There is no rush to decide. Classic FM really is relaxing me. Fair play. I wonder if today is all about lists? There already seems to be a trend. Eleven breakfast items seems a lot. This needs careful consideration. Note no baked beans but I could add spam fritters to the list as I just came across a tin of spam whilst checking the cupboard for beans. Ain’t going to happen this morning though. I wouldn’t eat a whole tin and it is particularly incompatible with Slimming World.

Starting to feel the odd hunger pang. Juices moving. Wonder how long I could go before needing to decide. Am thinking poached eggs on toast with chillies, a bit of bacon on the side and some fried potatoes. There. Done it. Now you know.

Storm Freya is a coming.

prenderti in un po ‘di amici. Devo andare via per accendere la stufa

Categories
57 Varieties travel

clamour for glamour

the clamour for glamour, l’amour, more armour the full silk jacket

weaving taxi driver tipped, out of contract, vanished into thin Catalan air

departure lounging littered with the debris of prior passengers. bored cleaner picks one small piece of paper and selectively brushes floor.

front row easy jet living jet relaxed jet squeezed in jet cramped jet warm jet sufferajet

any cosmetics, perfumes cigarette jet

grey jacket plane full fluorescent green beats in daft ears

trying to make some sense of it all

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57 Varieties

Yarborough Reception

Yarborough Leisure Centre Reception

Wet day miserable

Raining out bare headed people come and go

60ish man in red shirt and black nylon quilted sleeveless jacket

Dark haired girl in glasses walks away, large black bag flopped low over shoulder

Overweight ladies en route to gym, buff coloured sweater and blue parka with pink leggings

Yellow hi viz jacket walks away, grey hair head bowed

Blue grey singlet and two striped shorts heads to gym with water bottle

Woman makes phone call about dog grooming in Nettleham, bloke waits patiently

Gossipping foursome fresh from the pool

Hard core body pumpers, arrive

Silver Ford Fiesta, or simlar

Two bikes chained up, one with blue carrier bag over saddle

Fat bloke buys crap coffee from vending machine

Woman in early forties with dark, wet straggly hair and pink bag for life

Gossipping women, still here, have just stood up

Tracksuited lifeguards leave at end of shift

Man with plastic pot on right foot with crutches

Dog grooming girl now comparing notes on phones with bloke

Radio 1 now noticed, I must go

Rain has stopped

Man stands in middle of car park staring at phone

Is there hope?

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57 Varieties

Classical Coffee at the Blue Room

Classical coffee at the Blue Room Note after relaxing note his fingers tranced New York 1926, Roosevelt Hotel, Gershwin Moskowski’s Awesome Moustache Martin and Mary (not from Abertillery) Wherever I go in life I have a clock that beats time Should one day it stops working I shall return it to its maker The clockmaker The horseshoe is too small and 12 eagles can’t keep up German Baritone evocative of a bygone age Opportunity to sit and do nothing Left hand drops down the scale Mix of paper and screens Classical music pieces all seem to end in the same way Songs of the mad sea captain Sunk in Cathay, Joiner’s mate, French horn Peter plays a prelude Simple pleasures bring smiles Was the stained glass more vivid when new? Made, maind, mayd, mad Malcolm Arnold Fantasy for Horn Sound the charge, cavalry advance Living on that happy island, a goat in life but real in death Pastel blue and white ceiling with ornate grills Deep growly voice Listening to the scratching of the pen The last note lingers…
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57 Varieties thoughts

The forager

One who searches widely over an area in order to obtain something, especially food or provisions.”

This morning I went foraging.

The method:

Settle on a menu for tomorrow’s dinner. Check out what you have in the fridge/cupboard and make note of missing ingredients.

Express your intention is to forage for the requisite foodstuffs. Head to Waitrose with hessian bag.

Patrol aisles occasionally picking up produce and placing in bag. Fill bag.

Exchange money for goods and take home free coffee for life partner.

Footnote

This will typically work for any menu, exotica aside. The ingredients have to be available in quality supermarkets near you. There are alternative versions involving multiple sources and locations but I am not covering those scenarios in this post. Stick with mainstream cuisines and you will be safe.

Enjoy foraging…