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.
Dream Story - Blue Blood
Dream story- Blue Blood
Blackness is quite frightening, and it doesn’t go away when I open my eyes, why is that? Close them, open them, same difference, no; wait a minute, open them and there is a distant glow of – what could it be – brake lights? Must be, they are red - strange shape though, more like flashing numbers. That’s it. A red flashing sign, telling me eighty-eight dash eighty-eight. Funny that. Wonder how far it is to the sign, must be a long way off, the sound of white noise in my ears, where is that coming from?
A 15th Century Bridge
I wonder sometimes what this 15th century bridge has witnessed.
Today is idyllic, children splash in the river without a care.
It takes a stretch of the imagination to think of it at night, after a storm, the river in full spate.
Without yin and yang, experience would have little meaning. Without the night, the day would be mundane.
We see-um come, We see-um go
Yesterday afternoon, I joined a group of friends and neighbours who drove to the cinema in Bodmin to see a film featuring a couple who were once welcomed into our village and given shelter in the old Wesleyan Church, which stands proudly overlooking the harbour.
When they arrived, penniless, halfway through their quest to complete the 630 mile South West Coast Path, they were just another couple down on their luck.
The Author 1958
The other day, walking along our street, I met a neighbour cleaning his new motorcycle. I stopped to admire his machine.
It's difficult not to stop and chat with neighbours, as the street is little more than 6 feet wide, but it can take half an hour to walk its quarter of a mile length during daylight, when neighbours are out and about, and one wants to say 'hello'.
A Visitor From Afar
Yesterday, as often happens, I saw
through my window, somebody taking photographs.
A few moments later, the doorbell rang, and as I opened the door a couple stood in the street, the man apologised for bothering me, and explained that they had travelled from Tasmania to visit this house as it was here that his great great grandfather had lived.
The Candle Dropped
Nathan had done well for himself, he had left the village of his birth some years previously to find his fortune, and it had not disappointed him.
So, on this bright spring day, he proudly stepped off the train and walked along the river path the three winding miles to his birthplace – the Village where as a child he'd been the butt of many a prank. But Nathan had changed.
The Beech Tree
Every day, when the weather was fine, Jane liked to walk down the road to the park. There were lots of things to do in the park; swings, roundabouts, and slides. Often, she would play with her friends for hours, but sometimes she just liked to walk to the edge of the park where the beech trees grew. There, she could watch the squirrels and birds with no interruptions.
The Ranch-(Rancho Santa Ynez)
Outside my sleeping quarters at Rancho Santa Ynez is a magnificent old cactus, upon which hangs two skulls. One is a cow’s head, complete with hair and teeth, but minus one eye. The remaining one fast becoming desiccated.
The other skull very old….
Demelza- short story
One bright and sunny morning when the leaves were turning gold and blackberries had lost their flavour, Demelza went for a long walk through her favourite meadow.
She meandered through the long grass, trying not to trample the last of the wildflowers that grew there.