141106 Everything is
going to be all right (edited 141113)
Or as my Mum would say that
Dad would say,
Something will turn up
after he had roamed the streets all day,
in the 20s, or if you like…do you mean In the 1920s?
And here we are are, packed ready
as if to
leave the camp site, hotel,
house even - to walk down,
over the aqueduct to the station to
board for Vienna
to Catherine
and to my Brother’s grave
10 years on… there is more
but it can wait.
What a year again
It was here I realised that this is where I had begun…oh, and this
See a lot of this,
racing ..erm- running in the fells.
but today really began, wow
even farmer friends might say so, but since Facebook seems
all picxntoons -
no not yet, Barbara -up first
–
though going down, she needs no sticks,
I think it’s ME ?
(the worn out knee, you know) and
Everyone including us, was in confusion,
her visiting me in hospital and all, on crutches
taking me for a walk, me walking nearer 6ft tall
(at least, upright, very much alive with all the nurses,
and not so near to 5ft).She’d cracked Her hip
in a place or two, while taking me out to tea,
except it was My treat, so I was leading the way,
secretly leftrightleftright to Café Central,
impromptueasy,
thinking on my seat
(we artists, jazzers, standups, always top it,
though names like Grayson,
CBE will help)
I turned sharp left, B touched my wheel
and fell a cropper.
We were on by-lanes
I had not used for years, to our biggest
modest treat, as I said before, but it’s too clever
by half, in the middle
of the map, cinematic style
Cafe Central
though, the logo? It's 10 miles from us by town
or a 50-60 mile ride- around: Proper teas in
proper cups (propres, c’est l’annee
du TOUR) or summat lahke
that,
look yous, off course, of course, they come from Oireland, to be sure, Yarks, Lancs, white, red
roses, I’ve even met Oztralians and
Yanks
we try a route, look back …What a scruffy
picture, did you say?
aide-memoire, (I paint pictures at, a price) My first
bike: Pathfinder, was golden,
Rudge, you cognoscenti.
Little did I know…later, when coming down, squinting …
for now though, we see the top. Or is it? Work it out, the teacher used to say can you see the top of Pen y Ben from Bentpenny?
but this is what we came for ..to get there, walk, work, work, walk (talk- me, she seldom talks back)
we line up a hawthorn tree. B gets there first and leaves.
What leaves? I see no leaves, but there she is, bent on leaving me behind
Eventually we go down again, she leads the way, she should have had the bike
my gilet c/o Peter Bourne…dad and mum keeping well? has a pocket, just right for phone I find, I think I’ll put this on my blog. Now it’s easy for a while, we pass two experts, what a week they say, best we’ve ever had. We are on a mission to get down to The |Ragleth Inn (it'll soon be 3! we need a rock or two, roots
blimey not me in profile, straining, with my
Honorary Welshman’s Hat!
Very Proud of that, and you know what they all say? don’t Covet
thy neighbour’s wife, Pride goeth before a fall !
I might topple in the stream! Quick though, here they come, quick, stand by
that tree ? (I think we might compete a bit, don’t you ?)
There that’s right
Almost like a
matching scarf
And so we go
Down, those roots argh, this side, that side, this side, back over
that welcome slab, not like Billy Goat Gruff.. oh come on, come ON, that’s enough, you’re like a kid…not a growing little Billy Goat? I bleat...
(Mona Lisa smile reward)
Look at those !
What, more slabs?
No, put your glasses
on
Look at them
Neither sniff nor eat
them though
What a picture..... the track we did not take, what if? But what’s this here?
Old bones, dead volcano, squashed head, dried up chicken
carcass? Naah! s’abstract, shouln’t be allowed!
Mum, what’s that big bird up there? seems to be behind the
tree, a hawk I think, no, more like a leaping whale perhaps, dolphin even-
Oh don’t be so silly Milly,
drink up your drink !
I hurry past and meet a lady, hullo, lovely day, I say
Yes isn’t it ? I’m walking to the sunshine
oh won’t keep you
then, West Country are you?
from Wiltshire, Cirencester
to be exact
My mum lived there, I
used to cycle down the Fosse, I’ll let you go,
I say, (but in fact of course, I said much more)
And there tanned, bubbly bright (dare I say beautiful? Yes,
I dare! ) she strides away.
Disguised in icy blue.
by now
my wife in duller, darker tones, sombrely even? has passed… old tents’ graves?
I wonder what the little girl will think?
I’m lucky not to have to go to school
today?
End C Mick Ward 13th
November 2014
