141113 Everything is going to be all right

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 13^th November 2014