Time
As a schoolboy, I had a fascination with time. What I really wanted was a wristwatch. And the one that really appealed to me was the Omega, probably due to its classic advertisement "I don't want to set the world on fire".
One Christmas, I must've been about 10 years old, I received a wristwatch from my father. I was overjoyed. It had luminous hands, luminous dots under the figures, which glowed eerily in the dark. In small letters, at the bottom of the dial were the words "swiss made" but somehow I didn't believe it.
In those days, people were unaware of the dangers of radio activity.
Felicity’s gift.
Jeremy booked into the Country House
He was the first to sign in
To the weekend writing course
It was a birthday present
From Felicity, his wife
After leaving his case in his room
He went to the lounge
And met some of the other writers
He wished he had worn
Casual clothes
Falling in love again……
I think I may have fallen in love.
Again.
This time the face is not unlined, pretty and smiling.
It is old. Very old. It greets me each morning with a strange murmer that I do not quite understand, and probably never will.
Every day it is the same face, yet somehow different. As if the more I look at it, the more it's beauty etches into my eyes.
Last night, it happened again. in the small hours, just before the first light of dawn - that time when history tells us rebels attacked soldiers as they slept in the field.
More Nonsense…
If all the world were upside down
Now wouldn't that be funny
With birds and bees upon their knees
And cow dung rain like honey
Water would spout up from lakes
To reach the top of cliffs
With sailing ships of cows on high
There'd be no smelly whiffs
Skirts and kilts would have balloons
Attached to thier periphery
Lady Ram’s House
Sitting under the shade of a tree in Lady Rams Meadow, I’m thankful for the trees that soften the outline of the views, and give the place so much character.
Protected by the sea on one side, and on the other by automatic iron gates and a high concrete wall, I think about how brave the architect it was who designed the replacement for her old house, to pay no heed to the Genius loci. For it seems to be part of the perennially popular modernist movement, the brutalist design philosophy that prides itself on honesty, simplicity and functionality.
Dream #98
No wind disturbs the surface of the sea as a lifeboat makes its way slowly towards the harbour.
People join me on the quayside, watching as a tall man appears on deck, dressed in all weather gear, but bare-headed.
He picks up a thick rope, ties it around his waist and then loops it round and round his neck, almost like a Kayan neck ring woman, finishing with some kind of slipknot.
Without a word or a backward look, he steps calmly over the gunwale and disappears beneath the water, as the rope snakes down behind him.
I seem to be the only one concerned that he doesn't reappear.
Regulations… Regulations…
I mentioned to a couple of visitors waiting beside me, that locals used to have their own pewter tankards hanging behind the bar, which reminded me that I had one at home somewhere, that I won at a motorcycle trial in 1959 for the best rider under 18.
Puppies, Kids and Katz
Puppies, Kids and ‘Katz' It’s hard to work out why I write. If I ever submitted myself to a psychoanalyst we could together, with very little effort and some revealing light hypnosis, arrive at the happy conclusion that I was born to write. 'You have a deep Freudian need to express yourself Tom, an undiscovered brilliance and well, something something something something about a desire for creative cathartic expression.’ he’d say. I would of course sit there modestly, slowly shaking my head and holding up my palms in faux embarrassment. ‘I guess so doc’ I’d say bashfullly ’That must be it. It's in my soul’ I’d leave his office to cheers from an adoring public and immediately order a taxi to Hay on Wye.
How Far Have We come?
How far have we come?
Oh – about 20 minutes I should think.
Ha ha. I meant how far in distance?
Maybe half a mile or so.
Isn't it wonderful once the engine is cut.
You're right there.
We used to sail out here when we were young.
I'll never be young again.
Neither will I.
But then we never had time to grow old, did we? How did we manage to pull off so many deals?
Dream #88
It's 3:38 am.
I'm standing in the kitchen of a beautiful house in the country. The sun is shining, and outside there are trees and green meadows. But I am in the kitchen, cleaning out the fridge.
I come across a lump of grey putty-like substance, that I realise is essence of red wine. (this is a dream remember - and anything can happen, and make sense, for a dream has its own internal, unfathomable logic).
Nonsense poem? 5.07am
As I was going up the stair
I saw a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
Oh how I wish he'd go away
As a child, my daughter really didn't like this poem. It upset her, and now after installing a camera doorbell which she recently gave me, I am grateful for one piece of technology that sometimes saves me getting out of bed in the middle of the night.
Dream #85
I can't remember the last time a dream ended on a happy note.
No one was lost.
No one needed help.
No one tried to cheat me.
Everyone I met was convivial.
Now the last time I ran down Fore St., was 25 years ago – holding the reins of my toddler and singing "running down the road with daddy" as he tipped over laughing to fly like an aeroplane.
Saving the cow
A few days ago, quite by accident, I came across a 5 peso note. Because foreigners only use CUC we get used to thinking in dollars (USD that is – the same rate – less the exchange rate) so it was a new experience for me to have in my hand currency in which Cuban Nationals are paid, and which is probably illegal for me to use.
I was hungry. No, I felt like eating something, hunger is when you have nothing to eat.
Night thoughts #1
've been thinking about buying a private jet, only problem is, would I get enough use out of it?
So said my best mate when we met for coffee the other day.
We had both been in the retail business, the difference being that he listens to advice, and I fly in the face of it.
Sometimes, we swap yarns. I think his are almost unbelievable, and he thinks mine are too. But his are high flying, whereas mine are definitely down to earth.
It brought to mind an event that was far from uneventful.
Hubert the Hare
My parents had a strange relationship with books. I never knew either of them to go out and buy one, or indeed have a library ticket.
Somebody gave me a copy of Hubert the Hare when I was very young. I didn't like it. I thought the illustrations were grotesque, and the story was preposterous.
I was also given an illustrated book of fairy stories, which disappeared as soon as I learn to read.
The only books I had access to were my mother's art books (which I absolutely loved, especially the nudes) and a set of encyclopedias, which were very old.
Lost Memories
There's not much of a problem with drugs in our village – unless you count heart, arthritis, and cholesterol pills. I'm mostly free from aches and pains, and the environment is really good for mental health.
Early this morning my daughter phoned me, and solved a puzzle that had given me a disquieting day and a sleepless night.
The cause of this mental turmoil was the discovery of a flash drive containing 32 chapters of a story that I have no recollection of writing.
Dream 84
Dream #84
4:43 am. Lately, I've been quite out of sorts. No energy – like the aftermath of a dose of the flu.
Not two hours ago, I awoke with limbs of jelly, dragging myself out of bed, and staggering to the stable door to gulp the cold, salty, dark air into my lungs.
I made a cup of tea, and put on a podcast of a Reith lecture to lull myself back to sleep. Soon I found myself walking across a dusty town Square.
An unfinished painting
One of the kindest things that a friend can do after a bereavement is to share a memory of the loved one.
Firmin Shackleton - poetry
Poetry or Firmin Shackleton- Grandfather of Tom Barrie Simmons
Getting to the root of it..
I have Kitty, my lovely dental nurse, who incidentally is a spitting image of Liz Hurley, to thank for the title of this piece. Let me explain, I was lying back, almost horizontally, waiting for the anaesthetic to take effect, when she asked me if I'd rather sit up?
No thank you, I replied firmly, I do my best thinking lying down. It's the early hours in bed, where I get my ideas.
I shall have to write my next piece about this experience, I said jokingly.