3210 - Blow brother blow

The weather's disgusting, cold, such strong wind
The trees outside are waving like mad fans
At a concert, the sound of much moaning
Like banshees clinging on to every branch
I thought a tree might fall down with a crunch
Against my flat, crashing through the window
Knocking me over, unconscious til lunch
It's not an evening for somewhere to go
Count myself lucky that I'm inside, bro
I hope the spring leaves have fully strengthened
And can cling on despite the gale to clinch
Their place for the summer that's started. Oh
Yes it has, it's the First of June. Begin,
Season of warmth, sweaty nights and sun-tans

2566 - The heat is on and off

Back home, it's easy I see now to get
To my mum's by train and bus from Salford
To Greasby on the Wirral. Can forget
The expense of hired cars now, can't afford
Them very often anyway, it's sort
Of wasted money in these times, stops me
From tattoos, drinking, etc! Must sort
Out priorities, live a life of ease
Like yellow submariners, the Chinese
Or Beatles acolytes! Not getting wet
Either now, the rain's eased off, sun has caught
The land and flowers, trees budding, the freeze
Is non-existent, heating bills forgot
As climate changes, but waves lack concord

2433 - Cheshire cool cats

Sunshine and smiles, day out with Josephine
Walked round the park, dodging dogs on the way
What happened to the tree we climbed - it's been
Removed, maybe - branched out - it's crept away
Like the mobile trees in Tolkien. It may
Be my faulty memory that's playing tricks
We also went to Macclesfield today
Again just to the park - but soon she'll hit
The age when that's all over, so I mix
Trips to restaurants and country towns, and e'en
Art events, with simplicity and play
She won't be young much longer - the clock ticks
You know, and then another kid has-been
Becomes a supposed adult for always

2289 - The goose is getting fat

Listening to Rory Gallagher's guitar
Irish Tour '74, remastered
Been Christmas shopping, you see - I walked far
This lunchtime, got some CDs as I pored
Over the racks. 'Where's Will-I-Am?' I thought
Where there's a Will, there's a Sway. Flo-Rida
I did find, however, for my daughter
But got Rory for me, Tori, Hardcore
Compilation, very cheap, diary for
Next year (bit late for this one!), cards were a
Bargain in Poundland, but though I wandered
Round and round, no swimming float found. Got a
Few small Christmas trees for the flat - they are
Placed, all to praise the coming of the Lord!

2245 - Painting the roadside

Had very bad neck when I woke in bed
I couldn't comfortably lie on my side
And on my back was painful, too - my head
Had to be the right angle. I was wide
Awake at various points. Was early light
Because the clocks went back - always a shame
All of a sudden, tea-time is at night
Hired a car, drove to Swettenham in the rain
'S'wet in Swettenham' I caught myself sayin'
Took Josie to the Black Swan, where we had
Fish and chips near a blazing fireside
Autumn leaves also blazed, the Cheshire plain
Lovely perhaps for the last weekend, red
And yellow and green, painting the roadside

2207 - Who do we think we are (divine version)

Does God exist? What is God? Or a god?
There are so many, they're like a species
With many branches, some long fallen out
Of favour, landed, rotted 'neath the trees
Trodden on by insensible feet, leaves
Of yesteryear, once beautiful, living
Now rotten, defunct, dethroned, no-one sees
Them or knows they ever reigned, creating
Our ancestors but not us. We're living
Now, not then, so we don't know who's the God-
Father of our god. Get the software please
To work on the ultimate family string
Who was the prime mover of all the gods?
Surely he's the real one (or maybe she's...)

2193 - While the leaves are still green

Red berries through the window remind me
It's six years ago now I started this
Fourteen line daily sonnet diary
Around that time I noticed those berries
And described them, early September days
Are similar no matter what the year
Outside, this red and green backdrop displays
The same phenomena always appear
Like they did as a child in Staffordshire
My bedroom window then is blind to me
And I to it, though memories resurface
Nonetheless I'm glad I moved out of there
Change is refreshing, opportunity
More frequent when you change friends and places

2099 - The incredible lightness of Jubileeing

A nice Bank Holiday with two daughters
Pearl and Josie, driving to Jubilee
Fun in Wilmslow Park, then Macclesfield - there's
No fair there, we find - that's not fair! - then we
Stopped by Alderley Edge, took pix as the
Sun still shone on distant trees, fields and hills
The solstice isn't far off now, soon be
Getting darker again, so then until
It does, enjoy the light time, have your fill
Of this Jubilee Gig, and the Euro's
Football tournament. Then later, Katy
Moves up here. The Olympics, they could well
Prove exciting (come on, they aren't always)
The summer's full as a big beer belly

2034 - Walk on

What a long day with little Josephine
The clocks went forward last week, and the light
Lasted an extra hour. Seems like we've been
Walking for miles, first to Ned Yates, a light
Lunch, a look around the sheds, plants and what-
ever else at the garden centre... then
A walk past grazing alpacas, delight-
fully colour-coated beasts, going in
The Plough & Flail, playing outside, walking
Back to Wilmslow town, heading for the green
Spaces of the main park, but there's no sight
Of a toilet! I go wherever, in
An alley, behind a tree... Josephine
Crouched behind a fallen trunk! Chips! Good night!

1902 - Long day's journey

My brother's fifty today, a landmark
Our older sister, she's already there
Soon it'll be my turn. Once in the park
We played cricket in those two hot summers
'75 and 6, and that was where
My brother poured our Dad's ashes beneath
A new tree, later vandalised. Prepare
Now, on the coach to Birmingham, to see
The old places transformed - through gritted teeth
Trying to recall things past in the dark
Recesses of memory, the old centre
Of Birmingham, then by train or bus, leave
For Lichfield, where I'll meet Robin and work
On getting drunk in The Feathers later

1482 - Two English hills, one Irish hill recalled

There is a green hill not so far away
Well, two, in fact, that rise out of the plain
Both wooded hills topped with castles, like they
Belong not in Cheshire, but maybe Spain
Or Germany. On a clear day, it’s vain
To deny that Beeston and Peckforton
Castles aren’t worth a visit. The first-named
Is from around 1300, ruined
Now, but on such a tall outcrop, you’re stunned
By views of eight counties; looking one way,
The Pennines; the other, Welsh hills are seen
Reminds me of Carrowkeel in Ireland
Green panoramas, distant hills of grey
Ben Bulben, near Sligo, and the Midlands

1474 - Poem about stuff

Today I woke up and I ate breakfast
I went to the toilet and went outside
I walked to work and at my desk I sat
Chatting to colleagues, reflecting with pride
On yesterday’s meeting. They said that I’d
Chaired it well. At lunchtime, off out again
Where there were trees and cars and stuff I spied
There always are things to look at, and then
If you turn your head, even more things. When
You listen, you hear noises. Cars speed past
With a vroom and a beep. Some people died
Today, probably, but maybe some born
To balance it out. Anyway, at last
The last line’s here, and hey, guess what? I’m tired!

1471 - Man in the tree

I saw my shadowed head against the tree
In the dark night, by kitchen light backlit
As I stood smoking on the balcony
A magnified dark head that seemed to sit
Among the leaves and branches. I moved it
From side to side to check that it was mine
But it wasn’t mine; more like the spirit
Of the tree, revealed by the magic shine
Of a long life bulb; transported in time
Back to some pagan Bronze Age century
A god reborn, its one leg and arms knit
Into a sentient being, tall and fine
Green and brown sentinel, security
Watching over this patch I inhabit

1219 - Let it snow let it snow let it snow let it snow let it snow

The beauty of the early morning scene
Struck me as I came out of my front door
The snow was deep and white (not at all green)
My boots sank down but never touched the floor
The high branches intermittently poured
Their crystal contents near my head; cautious,
I crept quickly beneath while making for
The safety of the open sky, the trees
Three times cursing their luck at each near miss
The Regent Road traffic was barely seen
The slush hills and valleys a long brown score
From Liverpool to Manchester and Leeds
A relief to be home; I’m not too keen
On going out tonight. Will it snow more?

1132 - The real Madrid

Woke in the car at 8. Fuentespina -
Thanks for a quiet night!* I had time, so
I detoured to lovely Segovia
On the way to Madrid. That´s not all, though -
Sierra de Guadarrama! To go
There by car was a great experience
Those wooded mountains! Madrileños go
To walk the shaded hillsides. Didn´t sense
Any foreigners but me. For my sins
I now had to drive to the heart of the
Capital, Madrid. Skyscrapers, Prado...
Seen quite a lot already, by car. Pence
And pounds, i.e. parking costs, may mean a
Shorter stay than planned. Shame to have to go...!
*I slept in the car in a quiet side street - something I´ll have to do a few more times yet before this holiday is through. I was going to stay 2 nights in this hostel from where I´m typing this - the Pop Hostel, calle de Spiritu Santo, Malasaña, Madrid´s student quarter, but because it´s costing 28 euros to park for each 24 hour period, I can´t afford to park for two nights. Instead of 15 euros a night for accommodation, it´s more like 43 euros. I think I´ll stay in Madrid till quite late tomorrow, sightseeing, by car if possible, and then I may as well drive to Toledo in the evening, park somewhere and get some sleep. then I can spend all day there on Monday, which is the Spanish National Day. There might be some interesting celebrations to watch!

1104 - Rural Salford

Pale orange strip of sky over rooftops
Crowned by a refreshing shade of light blue
Around the point where blue starts, orange stops
A screen of green leaves from a tree or two
It always amazes, this Salford view
That feels like somewhere rural and rustic
While phases of sunny evening skies queue
To delight and surprise with rhetoric
Of natural watercolours, artless, thick
And smooth. As minutes pass, the orange drops
And fades, the blue changes to darker hue
A bright red street light shines behind the sticks
And branches of a tree no axe has chopped
A reminder of forests that once grew
Sat 12 Sept