Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Have you ever wondered, as you look up at the night sky, just what would happen if there were no more planets? Don’t worry. Well, not at first, anyway, because there’d be little effect. The Sun holds us in place, so we could continue jaunting round and round in orbit for a few more million years. But we would miss the brightness above us – no more Venus, the morning and evening star; no Mars, no Saturn or any other planet/star that we can recognise. Eventually though, we’d have more space rocks being thrown at us and potentially hitting their target. Jupiter is the one which usually deals with that danger and throws them into touch. It is also the other planets which help to keep us in place, so Earth’s orbit might change and/or the axial tilt might change, with possible catastrophic results. Aren’t you glad you won’t be there to see it? But we have already lost one planet and who knows when another might, arbitrarily, be transformed? Remember Pluto? No, not that yellow-coa...

  Those precious summer holidays, memories from the past. Two whole weeks of pleasure, hoping the sun will last.   Running towards the sparkling sea, buckets and spades to hand. Dad struggling with the deckchairs, as we race across the sand.   Lots of goodies to tempt us, hot dogs and fish and chips. The tangy taste of vinegar, lingering on our lips.   Candy floss and sticky fingers, sugar in our hair. Waffles soaked in jam and cream, devoured without a care.   The excitement of the funfair, screams and laughter fill the nights. Climbing on our favourite rides, beneath the flashing lights.   Those precious summer holidays, memories from the past. Two whole weeks of pleasure, hoping the sun will last.

  Sunday evening after tea. Always the same time each week. He would take his watch out of his waistcoat pocket, pause, compare the hour and the minutes then reach for the brass key at my base and start to count the turns under his breath until we were both ready to face another seven days. Then my chime, the voice of my movement, wound until all my wheels danced to a steady beat. The glass was closed, the key replaced and I felt primed, taut. She never liked my black, slate body with its mock Corinthian columns and its polished dome. I remember hearing her ask him why I had pride of place. ‘Why can’t we have a pretty ormolu timepiece with a gentle ting-tang instead of this monstrosity?’ He thought me a thing of substance, something which seemed to fit his self-image, upright, solid. He died more than 20 years ago and afterwards, she reluctantly shouldered his weekly routine. At first, I feared she would lift me down, take me to the pawn brokers three doors further down the...

  Hi, I’m Alex, here to give you the story of my latest journey … as it unfolds. If you’ve followed me before, you’ll be used to my style. Laid back, a little laconic as befits a seasoned traveller, plenty of humour. If you’re a newbie … welcome! To start painting the picture for you, I’m on a ship which set sail from Narvik on the west coast of Norway. As it happens, I’ve been to Narvik once before. This was in 1968 when I arrived by train from Kiruna in northern Sweden, famous for its iron ore mining. Back then, I went immediately south, to Bergen, to catch a ferry to Newcastle. On this trip I’ll be travelling north and then east, enroute for Kirkenes which is on the Norwegian / Russian border. Unknown territory for me! And probably most of the other passengers. It’s described in the brochure as an Arctic Immersion journey, (AI for short) but I’m hoping we won’t experience that literally! And there’ll be another AI dimension to the trip, more of which in a moment. Now, let...

  If yin and yang                      snapped in twain would the little circles                                pop out too? Could there be more pieces                                we can’t yet fathom? Philosophy may well have got there                                                    well before me, examining the fragmentar...

  7am – I wake up and splash my face. Ten jumping jacks just to wake the neighbours. Five-minute recovery. Five push-ups, unless my back is knackered. Coffee and croissant brekkie and a book. Currently it’s The Guinness World Book of Records 2014. I’m catching up.   8am – I get dressed and beat my hair into submission. I check my emails and socials. There’s this girl I’ve been chatting up. Well, actually she’s a bot who keeps sending me links to scam sites. Still, I respect her quick replies and the fact she doesn’t judge me. Also I like to pretend that the model in the photo is really into a slob like me. Before I know it, I’ve usually given her a full hour.   9am – I open the rough outline of this week’s celebrity’s morning routine and go to work. Smooth out the clauses, add all the commas they forgot about, remove half the ones they put in. Retain their ‘voice’ and emphasise a conversational tone. Laugh at the bare-faced lies of their precisely-timed habits. A...