a lonely cloud wandering a red balloon bobbing a jumbo bound for Brooklyn vapour trail exhaling a paper kite parading a flight of young geese gosling a solitary starling a kestrel that’s amazing a swarm of bees just being a bubble tempting fate a yellow biplane towing a banner proclaiming L U L U L…
Show me the earth
Show me the earth, I said he smiled and cupped his hands like a maltster might or a coffee merchant to show me the soil which richly crumbled between his fingers. I could tell by the ingrained dirt that here was a man hewn of the earth a son of toil, and so twenty sacks,…
We are made of memories
we are made of memories we met somewhere before first day at school seems like yesterday I wore a new blazer like a tortoise would its shell a coal shed, a first kiss fumblings in the dark that coal dust smell I can conjure it at will walking along the sand somewhere…
On Church Road
Our lunch on the first Sunday of February was very special. Just five of us were around the table - my wife Rohan, myself, our two sons and my sister - and for the occasion the number was exactly right. Only a few days before, Rohan had been discharged from hospital and this feast was…
Spread a little happiness
Maybe it’s a generation thing but I am not, nor never have been, a natty dresser. Quality yes, fashion no. Indeed, for many years I aspired to the anonymous dress style of a deputy bank manager. Nowadays, if I do wear something fashionable, it is almost certainly a gift from someone in touch - usually my…
The order of things
On my haunches on the garage floor, aged eight My father’s oil-grained hand reaches out from under the car I place a bright chrome wrench in his outstretched palm No, not that one, not yet! He can tell by the feel - No, I need the three-eighth Whitworth! Its heavy maw hints at gas pipes…
All’s well that ends well
Near misses seem to be part of my life. Around six years ago it was cycling accident. It was raining and I drove into what looked like a shallow puddle. Minutes later, I found myself on my back with a passer-by asking questions, blood coming from my forehead, my crash helmet broken, the bike frame…
Tongue untied
It is said that the language we use influences the way we think and feel, and possibly even how our minds develop and decline. For those who are bilingual or more, it introduces all sorts of interesting dimensions. So when conversing, for example, there are choices to be made consciously or otherwise as to the language…