The First Hint
23 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Photography Tags: Garden, Winter
It is coming! It is out there! Winter cannot last forever! As sure as day follows night Spring is on its way.
Groping
23 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Life Tags: auto-biography, boyhood, Family
There was too much blood. Again and again the thought echoed through Adrian’s nine year old mind; there was too much blood. It was in the sink, it stained the toilet and the bath, it seeped through the crepe bandage on his mum’s wrist. There was just too much blood. The ghastly scene illuminated by the overhead lighting chilled him to the bone, numbed him. He never even heard the sirens outside.
Adrian sat with his back to the wall in the sunny playground playing with his toy car in the dust. Samuel’s attempt to take the car away from him was clumsy and slow. As if in slow motion Adrian watched Samuel reach out, groping, hand already shaped to take hold of the car. It was easy enough to put the car beyond Samuel’s reach. Samuel tried to take it from him. Adrian did not like to be this close to Samuel. Samuel was the dirty boy that everyone called “Gypo”. “Get of, it’s mine Gypo,” cried Adrian. He saw the anger in Samuel’s face; he scrambled to his feet and ran.
His mum was not mental, she was not mad, she was only here because she had hurt her wrist. His mum should not be here, he should not be here. Mum and dad were sitting in the sunshine on a bench in the hospital gardens. Dad was talking, mum was crying and Adrian did not want to be here. He wandered off amid the formal flower beds. The old man wore a shabby grey jacket that reminded Adrian of the jacket Samuel wore.
Samuel cornered Adrian and fell upon him. The unwashed smell was all over Adrian, smothering him, covering him. Both boys were scrambling wildly without much affect. Adrian had never been in a fight before but he knew he was losing. Around them the other children had crowded, cheering yelling . Now Adrian was feeling pain and shame but above the crowded faces he saw a dinner lady, she would save him, she would stop the fight. She turned and walked away. Adrian knew he was being punished for calling Samuel a Gypo, or perhaps she just didn’t like Army kids.
The old man was so bent over he was hardly any taller than Adrian. He smiled at the boy and Adrian smiled back. He shuffled closer and drew his arm around Adrian’s shoulder. Adrian could see the grey hairs amid his stubble and feel the old man’s hand trembling upon his shoulder. As if in slow motion he watched the old man’s other hand, already shaped to take hold of Adrian’s zip, reach out and fumble with Adrian’s trousers.
The boys had fought their way back into the middle of the playground. They parted and Samuel threw a punch. Adrian felt the impact of the blow and felt himself toppling backwards. Everything became surreal. He felt as if he had gone as stiff as a board and was falling like a tree. But, even as he fell he knew what would happen next, he knew what had to happen next. The crowd of children let out a single “Ooooo!” as Adrian fell to the floor and then gasped as he bounced, as though his head was made of rubber, straight back up again. Using the momentum he had gained Adrian returned the blow and sent the other boy reeling backwards. The dinner lady stopped the fight.
Adrian twisted out of the old man’s grasp. For a stunned moment he stared aghast into the old man’s face. He stared aghast into his mothers face. He stared aghast into the face of the dinner lady. He felt the futile weakness of his own groping hands but he also felt the promise of strength to come.
High Drama
15 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Photography Tags: Winter, woodland
It being half way through half-term it is very easy to be distracted by the children. So it was easy, amid the said distraction, to leave my camera behind this morning. I had not gone far before I realised that I had forgotten my camera but… Well it was a drab day. There was no virgin snow, no wonderful sunrise or sunset; there was nothing at all to suggest that I would need a camera.
All I can say is thank goodness for my IPhone! Who would have thought there was such drama to be found in an ordinary February sky?
Do the Shuffle
13 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
The great beauty about reaching a certain age is that not only can you get away with a fair bit of whinging and moaning about life but people actually expect it. One of the things I do not whinge about is technology. I have followed home computing since I bought my first ZX 81 and now-a-days we do practically all our shopping online (you would not believe what you can buy from Amazon). No I am quite a lover of technology. However I cannot forgive CDs for killing the single.
Ah the joy of buying just the song you wanted to and then listening to it over and over again until you parents threatened to smash it, those were the days. Yes you could set up a CD play to repeat but you had to fork out for the whole CD first. As a true blood Yorkshire man I had to admit that I baulked at buying music I did not want nor particularly like.
Music buying for me all but stopped during the 90’s. I could be stereotypical and say that the quality of the music had a lot to do with my choice not to buy music but I would be lying. No I stopped buying music because I could not buy just the music I wanted.
Then along came MP3 players. I was intrigued, as I am with most new technology; I wanted to give them a go. By the mid-noughties they were practically giving them with boxes of cornflakes so I bought one. I was not going to buy an expensive one because, as I said at the time, I would never use it.
I am now on my fourth Apple IPod (the famous IPhone) and I love them to pieces. I would not leave the house without one. Music has flooded back into my life as has not happened since the early 80’s. Joy of joy you can buy just the songs you want thanks to digital downloads. Even better; one of my greatest joys as a teenager was to get a pile of singles, randomly mix them and pile them on the spindle of my old gramophone. How I would love the randomness of that mix. This joy I can live again thanks to modern technology and I just do the shuffle!
Friday Snowfields
10 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Photography Tags: Nottingham, Winter, woodland
Just to prove that I have nothing against snow…
World of Wonder
10 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Poetry Tags: boyhood, Philosophy
Picture found on the web.
The Sound
10 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
It was a sound like no other sound; it was a cacophony with a multitude of origins; it was a bastardisation of the airwaves. It was a mewling, screeching, scraping, pealing, cawing, croaking, bawling, sobbing, laughing and sighing sound. It was the sound of the snow falling, of the wind howling, of raindrops against a window and of hail bouncing off a car roof. It was the sound of the crashing of the sea, the sound of the sighing of leaves, the hiss of windswept corn and the sound of the rattle of money in his pocket. It was a beautiful, joyful, sad and ugly sound.
It was a sound that smelled like disinfectant and tasted like chip butties. It was the sound of the smell of coal dust and warm classrooms. It was the sound of the smell of hot tar and the sound of the smell of freshly cut grass. It was the sound of those gut twisting pangs of embarrassment, it was the sound of love, it was the sound of lust. It was the sound of the thrill of discovery. It was the sound of cold fear. It was the sound of hate, the sound of defeat and the sound of triumph.
It was the brittle sound of selfishness. It was the warm gentle sound of compassion. It was the sound of mellow nostalgia and astringent hope. It was the sound of laughter both joyful and malicious. It was the sound of falling tears, tears of pain and those more painful tears that never fell. It was the sound of failure and the sound of success. It was the sound of regret and the sound of satisfaction.
The white robed technician stepped forward and removed the sensors from my forehead. “That’s the sound your mind makes,” he said.
Before The Snow Fell
09 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Photography Tags: Winter, woodland
Steeped in drab, grey skies and miserable rain with days spent slipping and sliding through filthy, frozen slush is it no wonder that winter has a bad reputation. Before the snow fell we were treated to a wonderful few days of beautiful weather. We gloried in brilliant blue skies, sparkling bright sunshine and fresh, crisp clean air. They were those precious sorts of days that make winter all worthwhile. Yet even if you stack them up against the ephemeral ecstasy of a thick blanket of virgin snow, clear winter days can still hold their own without all the ostentation and mess that is sure to follow a good snowfall.
The first time I flew on a plane was on a bright, crisp, clear winter day. And that bright clear blue sky stayed with me all the way to Spain. What a treat! Imagine my delight at being able to look down upon the Isle of Wight and see it look exactly as it looks on the maps. I saw the ferries cutting their way across the English Channel looking like tiny graphics in a computer game. Wonder of wonders was crossing the Pyrenees and seeing their lofty peaks sprinkled with icing sugar snow. It was a trip I will never forget and I dare to postulate that it was only made possible by the brilliance of a clear winter’s day.
The day before the snow fell I was walking through a tiny copse when I found another winter gem. The IPhone camera struggles to capture the true wonder of the light but it does its best.
