Friday, July 28, 2017

Wednesday, July 26, 2017


Looks like even the flagstones outside your front door aren't safe now - what next? The most annoying thing is knowing full well that they have gone into some swanky rich person's garden as a feature.


Flip Book Dawn

Saturday, May 20, 2017

The Pizza (Short story)

She did not know where the meeting place was supposed to be. At the back of her mind was the thought that it was somewhere near a pizza parlour. But there were so many of them. If only she had got his number then she could just phone and ask. How stupid was she?

She didn’t even know what he would look like. Bloody blind dates! What was she thinking letting her best friend Janine talk her into it. Why do attached friends think that to be single is a bad thing? She hadn’t chosen to be alone. John had died in a tragic drowning accident three years ago while they were on holiday in Ibiza. They never found his body.

Her mind slips back to the white beach and blue skies. She can still remember his last words. He said, “Are you sure you won’t come for a swim, the water is so clear. I remember replying that it may have been clear, but it was freezing. I amended the famous Maggie Thatcher line to, “you swim if you want to. This lady is not for bathing.” We both laughed and he said, “Ok, I’ll see you in a bit.” I watched him disappear over the sand and then fell asleep to the most relaxing imaginings. Most of them featured John in various stages of foreplay. Who could have known that this man of my dreams would be swept out to sea and lost? I still couldn’t figure it out all these years later.

The sad recollections come swift and fast. So much information delivered so cruelly and clearly in split second reverie. The Police interviews, the consular and hotel staff and worst of all the sympathy of the fellow holidaymakers. After all, a disappeared husband with no body made me the perfect prime suspect. It hadn’t helped that it was some hours before I noticed he was missing. I remember waking up on the beach and wondering where he was. The towel and his possessions remained where he had left it so I just assumed he had gone back to the room for something.

After a few hours I packed up our stuff and headed back to the hotel. There was no sign of him and I began to get anxious. I didn’t want to be on my own too long as I had noticed a handsome Spanish guy seemed to be always on the scene whenever John wasn’t around. Perhaps coincidence, maybe even some wishful thinking, or just the mind just playing tricks but I had an uneasy feeling that he was kind of a mini stalker or worse. Anyway he was nowhere around today luckily.

I do not really believe in intuition, but I knew something was wrong. I voiced my concerns to the hotel reception and they advised me to contact the police. They phoned the hospital to no avail and shortly after the police arrived.

Looking back it was a nightmare to be both widowed and accused all in the same day. Things might have gone badly at that stage if a local sailor hadn’t reported that he saw a man out in the water heading away from the beach. The sailor Raoul had warned him in his heavy Spanish accent to turn around but John had taken no notice. That was so typically my confident John that my heart knew it had to be him.

I can’t think of it any more for the moment. The world around me comes back into focus and I am standing outside the ‘Slice of Nice’ Pizzeria on Main Street. It has now begun to lightly rain and there is nowhere to shelter. It has changed from sunshine to dark clouds in only minutes. Ah, Eastbourne in June is just perfect! I think to myself to just let it slide and head off home when a deeply cheerful voice calls out. “Hey Helen, it is so great to meet you at last.” I turn around to see the most handsome man coming towards me. He has a huge smile and thick dark curls around his broad tanned face. For a split second I almost thought I knew him.

He holds out his hand and says, “Janine told me what you would be wearing. I guess she thought you might do a runner, or just plain forget where we had arranged to meet.” In shock I shake his strong hand. It is warm and I can feel the hairs and the deep creases on his fingers. He looks Mediterranean but there is no trace of any accent that I can discern. He continues, “I am very pleased to meet you at last. Come let us go inside and get out of the rain.”

Despite the name the pizzeria is quite swish; elegant even. He has had the good sense to book a table and soon we are sitting in the window watching the raindrops trickle down the glass pane. Am I nervous, unsure, even a little exhilarated, perhaps? You bet, but there is something so powerful in those steel grey eyes nestling under thick brown brows that keep me transfixed. His face reminds me of a new holiday vista. It is a rugged and powerful landscape and I realise I cannot take my eyes off him. Before we have even ordered any food we are on the second bottle of Chianti and my whole sad story has poured out like a tidal wave of ill fortune.

At this point I expect my date to make some excuse and go. Tragedy plays out so differently in retrospect and I imagine most men see me as some fatalistic black widow character. But no; he sits and listens and I even think I see empathy and understanding in his attentive gaze. Time to learn a little of him so I ask, “Are you originally from England?”

I detect a momentary smile, but he replies, “No originally I come from Spain. I came to Britain a little over two years ago looking for love and set up a boat repair business. I realised my English was not so good so I have been taking lesson at college. Pretty good, no senorita” I laughed at his slip back into his native accent. My name is Raoul Javier Baleras and I knew your husband briefly. He once asked me for help when he was in trouble and I pointed him in the right direction.”

Sunday, April 30, 2017


Apologies for taking so long to do a post

Word come small in the beginning
Grains, gleans and germination
And like some implausible queens
We lay in our chambered nests
Gloriously building a fantastic crèche
Nurseries of word productiveness
To raise our potent larval scripts
But time will not allow us to keep...
All the infants of prose we cherish
We have hatched too many words
They become a plague upon opinion
That rattles on crowded, cerebral combs
Soaring thoughts that buzz and dance
Pressed together tight in rows of chaos
They cannot all live here together
They are so many
And so they come to divide
They swarm in the hive mind
And briefly, ere they leave, see them all...
Our last glimpse of honeyed wisdom
And then a mind splits its memories
And which memories exit
Fly into the white paper skies
As lay a kiss of grace upon compassion
And those which stay to be evergreen
Ah, that is the question
That only time will tell later
When all my best stories are left untold

Monday, April 03, 2017


Back when dinosaurs roamed
So it seems,
I was,
Lithe and ripped
Like sinuous metal
Gleaming in my manly morning
Then ascendance came
At noon, I was full-grown
With new legacies of DNA
A brood to mark my existence
Then all meaning waxed
Afternoon came to evening
Leaving silver on brow and crown
And my influence, it fades
Now the new stories begin
And so comes night
I break upon a coldness
This earthly hive is empty of bees
Life is done with its drone
Two new generations have swarmed
But my queen, she saw, but one
I begin to see her again
She is still magnificent
And I will take my last flight
To return to your hiving grace
And drink of your nectar again

Thursday, March 30, 2017


Are we just tang and sweat
That we try to conceal
It just that I wonder
If we can smell love?
Inhale it like a perfume
Because right now
I'm lying here next to you
In the dark
After we have loved
Like two demons set loose
And I love this smell
That now seeps between us 
That flows into our serenity
It is the scent of heaven
And it marks my soul in its musk

Tuesday, March 21, 2017


Love is blind
Love is unconditional
Love is forever
Love is fate
But love it is elusive
It only talks in whispers
And we need to listen
Or never learn to fly 

Friday, March 17, 2017


Some stuff i put on Instagram - kinda like putting the 2 things together. Not sure they work here but...

Sunday, March 12, 2017


We can waste it
Or spend it
Lose it or remember tit
We can plan it
Or regret it
But we can never reclaim it
But with infinite combination
And finite elements
We can repeat it
Till we get it right

Thursday, March 09, 2017


When a truth is laughingly delivered
When we ridicule in truthful jest
Hackles rise, become temper ignited
Laugh and the world concurs, they say
I do not attest in good faith, it is so
All too soon, mirth is all but run dry
For in delivery of unwarranted humour
Silence would always be, perhaps ,best
Than a darker comedy of good intention

Wednesday, March 08, 2017


And I was asleep till I awoke to ask
Let me now eat a better food
Pastries more wholesome than redemption
All the sweeter for meatless savour
Deliverance is worth having
For I was a covert monster once
Now I search through my conscience
In lost drawers of sentimentality
And they are empty of any reason
Save silver scales and charring wood
Lifeless flesh lying on charcoal tombs
Innocence and fur lost forever under stars
The aroma of my indifference clings still
But I am remade now a better human
For all the guilt and doubt is gone
And those that do not continue to sleep
In dreams of uninterested brutality
Become the blessed of the earth
No matter how late they arise to be vegan