Archive for March, 2012

Brutalised emotions

Industrial felling

Looks at destruction

Loss felt so heavy


Move away, solitude

Observe mother nature

Learn from the forest

Link all creation

Intelligent thinking

Spell out a solution

order instruction

Now broadcast new culture





School Run

Tiny lady with your Pilates mat,
Size 0 the prize to strive for,

Dietry fad, energy superfood.

You pay your personal trainer,
‘Keep me young and desirable.’

Live long, live young, I’ll be happy.

Can’t stop too long too busy to stay,
Must drive like the wind to get coffee,

And pain au chocolat, Danish.

School run again, 500 yards,
MY kids can’t walk it’s not safe,

A pervert behind every tree.

My Hummer is bright yellow,
It’s just my colour,

It roars like a beast on heat.

Kids legs don’t work, too heavy by half,
Control paddle hands muscle bound.

Too bright, no practical skills.

There’s ‘little’ Jimmy,
‘McDonalds Ma, supersize me’

Full fat cowgrease ‘milkshake’

Drop off the kids, ‘don’t I look great’ speak into my iPhone,
Open the door Jim heave yourself out

Granny knocked flying by your metal

‘She shouldn’t be there,
It’s my bit of road,

Paid for by hubby, a banker.’

Following our meal The One and I walked to the seafront and along the promenade. The sky was stunning, warm breezes caressing us as we wandered toward the setting sun.

The poor old pier is still hanging on. No longer linked to the land, the original entry booth is to be incorporated into Brightons new attraction, the name escapes me but it will be a metal column with a platform that goes up and down so a view of the city can be obtained. That assume’s money can be found. They couldn’t fund the pier restoration so what hope? Silly me, I forgot, it’s new and will make loads a dosh for someone.

The One thinks I am obsessed with the pier, it is true I will often take a picture of the pier when I go to Brighton,

but last night I loved the light sky blue pink, behind the pier.

This shows the now destroyed deck supports. We walked West toward Hove the setting sun was in our face, the promenade, not busy yet with summer crowds, a pleasant place to be. Normal people having an evening stroll / cycle. Even the hoody homeless squatting skating boarding sub culturite’s were out taking the sun and air. The world, at that time, in that place, exuding peace and love. Beach barbecue’s in swing (ugh burning animal fat) but good humour abounding. A street drinker wandered toward me, I recognise him. I have seen him being angrily aggressive at the sky for being there, cold and damp. Not today, drunk as a skunk, can in hand ‘Good evening’. I respond ‘Hi how’s it going’ (the English Que Pasa? perhaps). We move on.

A little further and we turn back to the station, but not before I see the rotunda has a sign beneath, “Open”, I had never seen this before, a cafe bar, open and inviting, a destination for another day.

As we walk back along the road side, motorcycles scream, cars dump their valves. The Grand still stands despite, Patrick Magee, the mayhem veiled behind the blue lighting of the facade. Will Brighton ever really forget that day and will PIRA really change its spots?

The lights, like strings of twin pearls hark back to an older age where smart ladies with their gentlemen escorts would promenade after supper, parasols idly carried for fashion. Long gone the fashion for pearls and parasols, but the evening walkers, joggers continue the tradition of post supper perambulation nonetheless.

A final look back to the Pier, with moon above and lights below;

before plunging into the little streets and backwaters of The Laines. Full of life, but not too much so tonight. The whole of Brighton seems to be dozing after the exertions of the day in full sun. Even the pubs seem quite and relaxed, no frenetic energy, rushing to the next thing, it might be better. The Seven Stars, a Jazz band warming up, alas no time to stop and listen.

back to the station and homeward bound. A stunning evening in this jewel of the south coast. Not the sort of thing I would usually say as I consider Brighton, generally, a bit of a carbuncle on the rump of the planet. Just shows how wrong you can be.

The photo’s are courtesy of my Google Nexus One.

Tonight The One and I went to Brighton to eat, we should have gone to Indian Summer which would have been nice. However, we walked past a Turkish / Persian restaurant on the way, the food looked good so in we went.

The One had Falafel as a main with loads of flat bread and houmous, no pic I am afraid.

My main was Imam Bayildi, slowly cooked aubergines stuffed with onion, tomato and green pepper, served with an enourmous plate of rice. It was very tasty and filling.

Just one half of the aubergine, the other has been eaten!

Dessert of Baclava and Zoolbiya Bamiyeh a traditional Persion sweet is all I can tell you but it too was delicious.

Turkish wine and coffee and Persian tea. The wine was very good for this kind of restaurant but the coffee was a disapointment. Two courses for two, £45.30.

We enjoyed the meal and will go back.

The kindness of strangers

Posted: March 27, 2012 in Poem
Tags: , , ,

Apologies to you who ‘do poetry’, I don’t. I did however make a deal with myself. If I wrote it I would put it on here.


The kindness of strangers

As a somewhat reclusive type, the last nine months were hell,
forced to seek society that ‘til now I have avoided,
no more the silence of MY space, it is now shared with all.

My personal demons have been poked, discussed and commented on,
my persona examined form every conceivable point of view, discussed,
my soul laid bare to the sunlight glare and picked over by vultures.

Vultures known and, thought of well, appear upon the horizon,
they sense a corpse and circle high, ripping flesh with beak and claw,
followed close by hyenas laugh of those I knew quite well.

Further renting chewing churning study of what I’m made,
you can’t do this you should do that, why do that it should be this
God keep up there, why can’t you,

A new age dawns of space unknown, words falling through space and time,
anonymous ones who can’t be seen, like spirits in the wind,
a new adventure spreads like liniment, pungent hot and healing.

This space is fine and fresh and mine, those others cannot find,
words appear, they live and breath, there seems to be no creator
a warm glow spreads, this is my space, my silence is returning.

A special thanks to Kate Adie, I stole her title!

I was reading a cloudy post this morning, Consumerism (4) – all I need is a pound a day.

It made me think, not the easiest job at 7 in the morning on a sunny day off. I agree with clouds. The more I thought about things the more I realised that action has to be taken now; but the very people who have the power to change the systems currently in place are the ones who benefit most from leaving things exactly as they are.

Back in the dark ages I attended a CND rally in London. At the time it was the biggest, the first attended by 100,000 + people. It was a grand day out, there were floats with well known bands of the day performing live music. A real carnival atmosphere. There were people like me, young, recently married, starting a new career, hopeful. I had a good understanding of the horror of nuclear war, I had been taught what to expect by the army. I had spent a couple of years chasing Russia’s SOXMIS cars waiting for the day when all hell broke loose. I was full of hope.

However, the carnival atmosphere was enhanced by others who attended to say they had been there. They had no real concern, had not the slightest idea of what it was all about. It was a chance to wander around London having a laugh and perhaps get their face on the telly.

Now, the young are less concerned about the nuclear threat, whatever happened to CND? They are still there campaigning but seem to be dropping from public perception. The environment is now seen as more of an issue. The trouble is, by the time the young and involved are of an age where they have power, it will be a) too late and b) they, like many others before them, will have been corrupted by the greed power encourages.

There are ample warnings about climate change, long term environmental damage by large scale industrial pollution and the effect of famine caused by soil degradation. Even if the nay sayers are right it is time for action without which my children and grandchildren will have a pretty shitty time.

There are answers but no political appetite to seize the nettle and act. Individuals can make a difference. If every individual did what they could by way of lowering consumption (Clouds lists some actions that she takes, most could learn lessons there) FOR LIFE not 5 days or whatever, a real difference could be made. Once those changes become a way of life, they can be enhanced by other activity reaching into all areas of life. Who supplies your electricity, don’t use gas (not petrol we shouldn’t use that anyway, no Gas to cook etc) support local ethical enterprise. Don’t support global companies. Avoid supermarket’s and look at natural alternatives to chemicals used in the home.

I still remain hopeful. I still wear my Atomkraft? Nein danke badge. It looks as old and battered as I feel at times, but then I realise there are people who still care. Those of us that do must continue to rail against the inequalities in the system, keep pressing for change. If we give up They have won.

Assuming the previous video has been watched, there is a chance some people may now feel less pleasure in food. The answer is in the garden, no really. Try this as an antidote to the previous post:

I defy anyone not to be uplifted by this single example of permaculture in action. For more in you tube search Geoff Lawton and just enjoy the positivism.