Bob

This one's a poem I wrote when a wonderful old gentleman in the village died a few years ago.  He was also the (retired) vicar of the local church.  He was sadly missed and still is.

Bob


I walked past your house today,
Then - realising you were not in
Stood by the gate -
I noticed your garden shed.
Now I know you were always polite -
Raising your hat,
Wishing me "Good Morning"
And all that.
But I never wondered
What you kept in your garden shed.

You were always there
Caring - funny - serious -
A good, old gentleman -
A man who was gentle -
A "Man of God",
But not of the usual mould.

When you died
I spent weeks just talking to you.
Everywhere I went -
Around the village - country lanes -
I said all the things I never said when you were alive
And only lived down the road.
I know you heard me -
You said back all the things I wanted to hear.

Now - when I sit in the garden
You still walk by and always raise your hat to me.
I don't cry or feel sad -
Just smile back at you
And miss you.

Biking in the Meon Valley

Yesterday saw us getting out into the countryside for the first outing on the motorbike before the sunshine leaves us for the rest of our lovely English Spring - yes - snow forecast for tomorrow!

What I really love is riding pillion on the BMW - as long as I'm wrapped up well with no gaps where the wind can get to me.  There's nothing like being on the back of a bike, relaxing as we wound our way through Hampshire.  The sun was still out, although there was a definite chill in the air as we headed up the Meon Valley.  What a beautiful valley it is - passing through Droxford - remembering times when we used to collect children from the village school - the summer fetes with children and grandma - all a few years ago now.  Then moving up along the ridge where you can see the river Meon meandering through the valley on the right, more memories of walking across the hills and ending up at the White Lion in Soberton for lunch.

Further up the valley we reached the lovely village of Meonstoke.  From the road you see the ancient Saxon church with the grounds bright with daffodils - the river running through - too chilly yet for picnickers though.  Just past Meonstoke we turned off into Exton with memories of sitting in the pub garden there many years ago, feeding the ducks and watching the river as we ate our ploughman's lunch and supped a welcome beer.

But we had more miles to ride before lunch this day.  We rode past the village church and I whispered a greeting to my dear old friend Annie who is buried in the churchyard there, passed her old house and on up onto the top of the hill again.  We briefly stopped at the top and looked across to the horizon, wondering what we could see in the distance.  I looked about and spotted the Isle-of-Wight in the distance.  From this we worked out that Southampton was probably ahead of us, the Solent to the left and Winchester somewhere to the right.  We chose to go right and travelled on through the beauty of the countryside - finally arriving at our destination - The Hampshire Bowman public house.

This pub still has a field at the side where they set up archery targets and the local archery club have regular sessions, so I hear.  The pub is a favourite for many people - definitely a 'destination pub' being situated right out in the country with only a handful of neighbours within walking distance.  They do have campers in the field at times though, and cater for all sorts of customers.  The place was packed full of bikers, some like us, just out for a ride on their own, others in groups.  It's a great place for people (and bike) watching.  But the pub also caters for families - children of all ages, walkers with dogs - there were many dogs in the pub garden.  The pub provides water bowls and even a shovel with a notice to dog owners to clean up after their pets!  The garden is large enough for all and although there were a lot of customers the pub was not crowded.  We were served immediately we arrived and our lovely roast chicken lunch was on the table within about twenty minutes.  And it was delicious!

The afternoon took us to Shedfield to watch our daughter compete in a dressage competition.  I always find it amazing whenever I watch her riding - she has so much discipline - her concentration is awesome and she looks great on the horse.  And when she came first and then fifth in the two different classes she entered, we were very proud of her.

Back home in Southwick - I'm not looking forward to the weather turning colder tomorrow - today I plan to make the most of spending time with our other lovely daughter and catching up with the costume department at Titchfield Festival Theatre.

Today I thought I would share a poem with you.

Dad


My Dad was tall
Me - standing in the hall
Knee-high
Gripping tightly to the "Asylum"
Uniform trousers he wore
Looking up at him in awe.

Playing hide and seek under the hanging coats
All hanging in the hall
Of our finely polished council house.
Searching pockets of your black "Asylum" raincoat
Top coat to the uniform you proudly wore
Looking for sweet rewards
And finding only
Unfiltered tobacco
Filtering through my fingers
Lingering leftovers
of your lately-rolled "Rollies".

Then - sitting on rocking-chaired knee
Riding that old, tired horse to market
Snuggling into your scratchy, unshaved cheek
Breathing deeply
The safety of your smell
And my chubby hands playing with your black,
Brylcreamed-back hair
Now unruly
Sculptured into unicorns
And little devil's horns.

I remember you singing unknown
Never to be known
Polish lullabies
Ready for bedtimes
Beside the kitchen fire.

Lee-on-Solent revisited!

Lee-on-Solent was a place where I spent many sunny summer days back in the 1960s when I was in my mid-teens - you know, those years when you are "going out" with one boy and intensely in love for about a fortnight, before you either get dumped or decide yourself that it's time to move on to the next.  My heart was broken many times and looking back, I suppose I broke a few hearts myself.  There were about thirty of us altogether I guess, youngsters who would gather on the beach under Lee Tower having travelled from Stubbington, Fareham (in my case) or just around Lee itself.  The tower is long gone now, but I remember how brilliant it was for us.  Even then the white exterior was chipped and slightly seedy-looking.  It was built in the hey-day of English beach holidays back in the 1930s and was typical of the architecture of that age. A beautiful building - such a shame they pulled it down and put a car park in it's place.
Inside the tower building was a bowling alley, a cafe and a ballroom.  We would hang out in the foyer when it was colder outside until we'd get moved on by the manager.  In the cafe I remember the hot pie/sausage roll machine - a large part of my diet in those days consisted of hot sausage rolls straight from that old oven.  Occasionally a band would play in the ballroom and once there was even a disco I think.  If we had any money we would sometimes have a game of bowling, but most of the time we'd just hang about and watch other people play.
  You could see Lee Tower all the way from the main road between Gosport and Stubbington and I used to look out for it from the top deck of the bus from Fareham.  For a small fee - about 6d I think (that's 2.5pence in new money!) - you could go up in the rickety old lift to the top of the tower and look out at views across the Solent to the Isle-of-Wight.
I discovered Bob Dylan during those balmy days and often a group of us would be under the tower on the beach, someone would be playing a guitar, and we would sing.  We'd often swim in the sea.  It seemed to be the thing to do then to swim fully clothed for some reason.  We thought we were so cool!  In the evenings we'd light a small fire - barbecues hadn't yet reached the shores of England - we just had bonfires with maybe a jacket potato or a sausage cooked on a stick.
Quite close to the Tower was a small shelter/view point with a seat in it.  It was an old wooden hut, so different from the concrete ones at Lee these days.  We called it the "Snog-hut" for obvious reasons, and I don't think anything else much happened in there.  On Sunday afternoons we'd lounge about on the grassy bank behind the Snog-hut and listen to Pick of the Pops on our transistor radios.
Lee had a youth club which I was allowed to go to even though I had to travel there on two buses - one into Fareham from our housing estate - then change for the Lee one.  I had to be home by 9 on a week day, so would have to leave Lee at 8 to get the various buses home.  But it was worth it just to hang out, play table football and pool, and to listen to vinyl singles on the old record player.  What I was really there for though was the chance to meet up with people of my own age, boys and girls.
I had good best mates and still see my best friend of the time - Ginny.  It was at Ginny's house in Stubbington that I had my first cigarette - menthol of course.  Ginny was so much more sophisticated than I was and I think I had a crush on her older brother Kev.
Anyway, back to the Youth Club - the place was heated by an old fashioned coke burner.  I remember my Mum sniffing me when I got home one evening - she was convinced I'd been smoking cannabis!  But of course, we were all much too naive to do anything other than smoke tobacco and get drunk occasionally.  I don't remember ever knowing anyone who'd tried drugs then.  I was well into my twenties before I came across that!
The worst thing I think I did in those days was to get completely drunk on a bottle of home-made elderberry wine at my friend Christine's house.  She lived quite near me in Fareham and I would call for her on the way to Lee.  I drank the wine in her Nan's front room while I was waiting for her to finish eating her dinner before we were allowed to go out.  I don't know how I got past her Nan without her noticing that I was pissed when we left her house.  Somehow we managed to negotiate the two buses and by the time we arrived at Lee I was completely wasted.  I threw up in the Tower cafe and all over the promenade.  I remember feeling completely ashamed afterwards and couldn't face anyone for ages.  Luckily it was mid-afternoon though and by the time I had to go home I'd sobered up.  My friends were great and took good care of me.  I still don't like the taste of elderberry wine!

Yesterday, we went to Lee with our young teenage boy.  Where the Snog-Hut once was is now a skate park.  The grassy bank is still there though, as is the amusement arcade which was another place we used to hang out it.  It's all modern fruit machines in there now - I remember the laughing sailor machine - you put in one penny and this dummy dressed as a sailor would start to shake and laugh.  It was very infectious.  There were even very old machines called 'What the butler saw', leftovers from an Edwardian Era which showed a peepshow of antiquated women taking their clothes off.  There were also many penny machines that you could win a couple of pennies back if you were skilled enough.
Along the seafront there is a children's play area with all the latest 'safe' apparatus.  It was packed yesterday - this area was once an outdoor swimming pool.  When I was at school, we would go there for swimming lessons and I also spent many hours during my childhood in that pool.

All gone now, but the memories are still vivid.

What a lovely day in the village today!
Last night's performance of Billy the Liar was pretty good, the audience was spectacular and all joined in with the  "Oh no you're not - Oh yes I am!"  The audience participation song Shuzzbum Tickletum was a success I think although being backstage at the time I couldn't be completely sure.  We all had a great time anyway and today our picture is in the local Portsmouth News together with an article about the show and its author/director, Warren Bailey.  It's the last night tonight so after many weeks of preparation, it'll all be over in a few hours.  Seems a shame that we don't do more than just the three nights.  After nearly six years away from the group, I'm glad I've ventured back and hope to do more next year.  I know that Warren has already half written next year's Panto so watch this space for more news on that.

The sun is shining today - it's about 20 degrees outside and all you can smell is freshly-cut grass.  The sound of lawn mowers is over-whelming!   I am enjoying the weekend with my lovely family - next weekend should be quite busy - Mark has two gigs to play, one on Friday and another on Saturday.  The Friday one is a wedding.  Playing at weddings can be quite a marathon as you have to be there and set up before the guests arrive and usually have to stay to the bitter end.  Can't have the band packing up half way through the evening can you?  Guests tend to get a bit pickled and make fools of themselves so it can be quite wearing at times.  The gig on Saturday though should be a lot of fun.  It's at Samuel's Rest Pub in Shedfield.  The Lost Star Souls have played there before and were very well received.  I shall go along to the second gig, but not the first.

Before I go to the gig I'm going along to a read-through of a play which will be performed at the end of May in The Great Barn at Titchfield with Titchfield Festival Theatre.  Sounds quite exciting -

'OUR COUSIN WILL'

or

Will in his Own Words

....with a few extra ones by Stewart Trotter

A Life of William Shakespeare constructed from his Sonnets and Plays....

'OUR COUSIN WILL' is an entertainment, by turns hilarious and heart-breaking, which traces the course of Shakespeare's life from his birth to his death in Stratford-upon-Avon.....by way of Titchfield Abbey in Hampshire!

It explains how a lower class boy, with little formal education, could attain such knowledge of history and politics....how he could write, with such intimate ease, about the lives of kings, queens and aristocrats......... how he was adopted - and then dropped - by one of the most powerful Catholic families in England......... and how, in the process, English Drama, in all its greatness, was born...

Stewart Trotter will direct this - he very successfully directed Loves Labour's lost for us at Titchfield Abbey.. he is a professional theatre Director who in the past has worked at the National Theatre for Sir Peter Hall at Glyndebourne, ran the Norcutt theatre in Exeter and currently has a version of Carmen running in Poland. He has an intimate knowledge of Shakespeare from his works and really is quite something to work with!

So you can see - I am very keen to get involved in this.  Am hoping for a part in the play but we shall have to see - I expect there will be a lot of brilliant actors at the readthrough/casting.

Anyway - I think I need to get back out into the sunshine - this may be the sum total of our summer!

Another chapter of Caught in the Web

After the first night of the panto - which was a minor success I think - I am a little bit pooped this morning.  Need to go out shopping for the weekend so will write up my blog later.  In the meantime, perhaps you would like to read a little more of my novel.....

Chapter Seven

Some days had passed since his conversation with Margaret and Peter had made plans.  

The front door banged as Karen arrived home.

'Hello darling,' she smiled as she flopped onto the sofa.  

'I've got a surprise for you.  I've taken tomorrow off and we're going to Brighton for the day.'  Peter grinned at her.

'Oh.  I don't know if I can.  I said I'd do the late shift.’  She glanced at him.   ‘We're very short staffed.' 

'It's your day off,' he said.

'I know.  But they really need me on the ward.  I didn't realise you'd taken time off.  You should have told me.'

'I thought you'd be pleased,' he said.  'I wanted to surprise you.'

'I am pleased,' she sighed.  'I'm sorry.  I'll phone the ward and tell them I can't make it.'

'Don't bother,' Peter was on his feet, pacing the floor.  'The ward is obviously more important to you.'

'I've said I'll cancel the shift,' Karen replied.  'I want to come out with you.'

'No you don't,' he complained.  'You've made that quite obvious.'

'I'm sorry,' Karen stood and reached for his hand.  'I really want to come out with you tomorrow.  It'll be lovely.'

'I can't seem to do anything right these days.’

'You do,' Karen put her arms around him.  'Of course you do.  Come on, we'll have a brilliant time.'  She kissed him.

'Alright then,' he said.  'You do love me, don't you?'

'Of course I do,' Karen smiled.

The morning was just how June should be, sunny and warm, with a hint of a breeze to bring relief to the heat of the day.  They left early and were soon walking along the promenade together, arm in arm.  Karen relaxed and squeezed Peter's arm.

'This is nice,' she said.  'We should do this more often.'                                 'What would you like to do?' Peter asked.  'I thought we could have a coffee on the seafront and then go and look at the shops in the lanes.‘   

‘Sounds lovely.’                                     

They stopped before a seafront cafe, tables bedecked with brightly coloured umbrellas set out on the promenade.

'How about this place?' she asked.

Peter wrinkled his nose.  'I suppose it'll do.'  He wiped a chair with his handkerchief and sat down.  Karen sat down next to him.  Her chair had looked clean anyway.  

They were soon sipping coffee and devouring iced buns from the display on the counter.  Even Peter seemed to enjoy the moment if not the coffee.  Karen stretched her legs and gazed out at the sea.  All along the beach were families with children paddling in the shallows or sitting in deck-chairs - the children were playing with beach balls which were tossed in the breeze.

'That could be us in a few years,' Peter was saying.

'Yes, maybe.  In a few years time.'  

Peter was on his feet.  'Let's go,' he said.  'There's a book shop in the lanes I want to see.'

Karen loved wandering through the lanes.  The shops were crammed with treasures - expensive shoes, leather coats, antiques, bric-a-brac and wares from the East such as cotton kaftans and incense.  

She was in her element in the little bookshop.  She'd always loved to read, and spent hours as a child in the local library.  More than anything, she enjoyed the feel and smell of new books.

Her eyes lit up as she spotted a copy of The Lord of the Rings.  She reached up and carefully took it from the shelf.  It was bound in black and gold, and although she'd read the words already in the regular edition, this was somehow special.  She felt it would contain secrets that she'd love to read.  It was twenty pounds, more than she could afford to pay.  Still, it was nice to hold the copy in her hands, to turn the fine pages, feeling the quality of the paper.

'Have you read it?'  The shop assistant said.  'That's a special edition.  Only a hundred copies made.'

'I loved it,' Karen replied.  'This is a fantastic edition, but I can't afford twenty pounds.'

'Just take a look at the illustrations,' he said.  'You don't have to buy.'

'It's beautiful,' Karen said.  'Thank you.'  She carefully turned the pages of the book, pausing to look at the illustrations in the middle section.

She breathed in deeply, the words surrounding her.

'When you've quite finished reading that rubbish, we'll go.'  Peter's voice rudely snapped her out of her reverie.

‘It's a lovely book.  Look.'  She held the volume out to him.  'A beautiful edition.'

'I can see what it is,' he spat. 

Recoiling from his venom, Karen turned and quickly exited from the shop.  She walked a few yards down the street and stopped in an alleyway, trying to control her tears.  When Peter caught up with her she spun on him.

'Don't you ever do that to me again.'  Karen let go of her frustrations.

'What the hell were you doing in there, flirting with that assistant?'

'I was not flirting.'  Karen noticed a blob of spittle on Peter's chin.  She swallowed.  'He was showing me the book.'

'You were all over him.'  The spittle was joined by another.  

'I don't believe this.'  She looked away. 

'Neither do I.  You go from bad to worse.'

Karen looked at Peter's hands.  His fingers were long and thin, the nails neatly manicured.  'There's something seriously wrong with you,' she said.

'Look,' his hands slid into his pockets.  'Just behave in the street will you?  Everyone’s staring at us.'

'Stop it, Peter.'  Karen turned away.

He grabbed her wrist.  'You're showing us up with your shouting,' he snarled, leaving a light spray of his venom on her cheek.

Karen wrenched her arm free and wiped her face.

'Do you know what?' she said.  'I don't think I want to be with you today.  I'm going home.'  She started to walk away, Peter following quickly behind her.

'Don't be stupid, Karen,' he hissed. 

'I haven't done anything wrong,' she said over her shoulder, not stopping for breath.

'I don't call flirting with some stranger nothing,' Peter insisted.  'You just can't help flirting with every man you see, can you?'

Karen stopped and spun to face him.  'It's pointless talking to you about this.  I'm going home.'

'Well I'm not driving you home,' he grabbed at her again.  'We're staying here and that's that.'

'I'll go home by train then,' Karen tried to pull free of his grip.  'Let me go,' she seethed.

'Don't be stupid,' Peter released his grip, pushing her off balance.  'You are not going home on the train.'

'Aren't I?'  Karen walked away faster, trying to get away from him but he was still behind her when she reached the station.  She turned to him.

'I mean it, Peter,'  she said.  'I can't be bothered trying to please you any more.  Everything I do is wrong.'  She paused.  'For the last time, will you please take me home?' 

'You're just being a silly little girl,' he sneered at her.  'Why can't you just behave yourself for once?'

Karen sighed.  'I'll see you at home.'  she turned and walked into the station, just catching his parting words before going through the gate.

'Don't bother coming home,' he called.

The train journey home was long and slow.  Karen had plenty of time to go over and over in her mind the conversations between herself and the shop assistant, and then herself and Peter.  She wondered whether she'd completely lost her mind.

Where had all that bravado come from?

It was difficult to work out whether she could have dealt with any of it differently.  She was scared to the pit of her stomach at the thought that she'd stood up to Peter.  There were bound to be consequences.

Gazing from the train window as the summer countryside scrolled past like scenes from her childhood story books Karen was saddened.  'Life's just not like that,' she thought.

Finally arriving at Fareham, she stepped from the train and looked at her watch, wondering where Peter would be.

'Maybe he'll have stayed in Brighton for a while,' was her hope as she walked into the town towards the bus station.

But Peter was waiting for her as she opened the front door. he stood in the hall looking at her in disgust.

'I hope you're happy now,' he said as he turned away towards the stairs.

'I'm sorry, Peter,' Karen whispered, but she knew that it would be a while before he spoke to her again.

Thoughts on Leigh Park

My lovely stepson is 22 years old and works with people with learning disabilities.  One of the places he has to work is situated in the middle of a massive housing estate.  A few weeks ago he bought himself a motorbike for a few hundred quid and has been riding it to work.  Then last weekend someone stole his bike from outside the service-users house whilst he was at work.  Yesterday he had to retrieve the bike which had been abandoned a few hundred yards from the house, completely burnt out.  It makes me so angry to think that some idiot did this to such a nice lad.
The housing estate where he works was built in the early 1950s to rehouse the hundreds of families who were bombed out during the second world war.  I remember when it was being built and even used to visit my Aunt and cousins who lived in one of the houses.  Shiny and new, the houses were ultra-modern at the time with smart metal-framed windows and gas boilers to heat the bath water.  There were shops nearby, a library, churches, schools, public houses, all specially built, with plenty of wide open grassy places to play.  The gardens were big too, and most families grew their own vegetables.  Washing could be dried on washing lines rather than those wizzy-round things we have nowadays.  I remember swinging on the washing line in our back garden.  Leigh Park was a very exciting place to live in those days.  We would drive there to visit on a Sunday afternoon, all the way from Fareham, along the top of Portsdown Hill.  You could see the lights in the City down below as you travelled home in the dark.  The sense of community was very strong.
A few years ago I worked in the Drug Treatment Team in Portsmouth and ran a clinic in Leigh Park so I know how things have changed over the years for the people living there.  Still with a strong sense of community but so much poverty which never seems to improve.  At least there was amongst many of those I met.  In the 1990s I also worked as a psychiatric nurse in the area and helped many residents with mental health problems.  I love the estate and the people who live there but I would never leave a motor-bike unlocked in the area.  Sad isn't it?

Tonight is the first night of our village Pantomime - Billy Liar The Pantomime - I am feeling a little nervous about this although quite excited too. So wish me a "break a leg".  I only have two small character parts and a few chorus songs so nothing to worry about.