Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Neil and I stood at the dull green embankment overlooking our freshly-tarmacked school playground. He was on a low sandstone wall and I beside it.             Despite being close friends, conversation didn't come easily between us. Neil was the stoic type with his far-off gaze and intense pout while I was all twitchy and sweaty.             "I have this idea for a video game," I told him one day.             "Like Tekken ?" he asked. We adored Tekken 3 but never really got far with it.             "It's not a beat-em-up," I spoke firmly. "It's a platform adventure game."             "Name?"             "Devil Cop."    ...

Fields of flowers, fields of corn,  A drop in the ocean before you were born.  Fields of barley, fields of wheat,  The chirping of crickets before we first meet.  Islands of paradise, islands of sand,  The whisper of warmth that I find in your hand.  Mountains of wonder, mountains we yearn,  The stone that we place on the top of the kern.  Forests of whispers, forests of want,  The wood that we stroke as we lie on the yacht.  Seas of beauty, seas of pain,  The boat that we sail through the plastic again.  Storms of fury, storms of rage,  The sadness we feel as we sit in our cage.  Fires that ravage, fires that wreck,  The anger we feel as we watch from the deck.  The graveyards of nature, the charred acorn,  We wonder and wish that we'd never been born.

Four and a half weeks of no school, four weeks into lockdown, mostly living in scruffs or pyjamas, yet I find myself more content and calmer than I’ve been in such a long time, even when I’m doing the routine stuff like laundry or food shopping.   Queuing to go into the supermarket is mindful in an odd way: those few minutes of slowly walking and then stopping are moments of being aware of the weather around you, sounds of nature, and the quiet voices of fellow shoppers. Combined with fewer people inside the shop, I don’t dread food shopping as I did before. There is more peace in our home with the absence of the stresses of clock-watching, rushing here and there, and doing “stuff”. My children are relaxed, even though Fortnite or Roblox tend to dominate their waking hours! We’re getting to know each other all over again, we’re baking and cooking properly again, and doing more walking. This absence of “stuff” isn’t as distressing as I expected, or maybe I’ve got used ...

Separated by glass, my friend waits patiently. A well stocked cupboard has forged our bond. I fear each day I may lose him. I leave the comfort of my chair, place meaty morsels on the lawn. My friend cannot close his gape. Rummaging my offerings he scoops, swallows what he can. Media churn out news of a viral world. I am not an island but for now, in body, I must be. The phone scoops and swallows my conversations. My blackbird is absent today. House clean, garden in shape. A bird forages in a newly hoed border. I am halfway out of my chair but…. no… it’s the robin. New novel, not engaging, concentration flies away. Eyes stray to the window, searching… garden seat, bird bath. No blackbird. Sipping after dinner coffee by that lonely window, the garden is deserted. Eyelids, heavy… with… ...

Where to Guvnor? Follow that blue Mazda. What? That Mazda! I want you to follow it. What for real? Exactly – there’s a pony in it for you. In that case I’m already following. So, what’s he done? Who? The Mazda driver. Nothing…yet. Listen guvnor this isn’t going to get dangerous is it…no shooters or anything like that? Nothing like that mate. Get a bit nearer – you’re in danger of losing him. Well we’re in a 30 and anyway it’s not safe to overtake on this street. Just my luck – a cabbie who sticks to the highway code! If he gets onto the ring road, I’ll have a chance. He won’t. What? Get onto the ring road. I’d put money on it. Where do you reckon he’s heading then? The coast. But that’s bloody miles! A good wedge for you then. Suppose so but I’ll be late for my tea and it’s the wife’s homemade pizza tonight. Lucky you. Alright if I call her – hands free like? Whatever, but don’t lose the Mazda. Sounds like I’ll have to leave a messag...

Dream My bags are in that room and you are too. This corridor’s familiar, doors similar, but something’s not quite right. I turn left, climb stairs, turn right then right again, still room, bags, you are out of sight this roving raving, hunting, night that feels like day until I wake. When I do, perhaps, cloud curtains block the morning light. I’m cold, exhausted from a sheet-soaked night of searching for room, bags, you so close, I feel, but out of sight. You must be found. You must! Patiently then nervily then frantically I search. I know the room is there, there was no sleight. How come the building’s shifted style and my room is out of sight? I dream I wake. With heavy lids I see a shape, it might be you, or someone like, a misty silhouette in black and white until another turn or strife keeps you and everything that matters to me just out of sight. I’m stuck looking for a room that’s mine a love that’s mi...

Tomorrow, April 7 marks the birthday of William Wordsworth in 1770 – 250 years ago. I thought I would remember the event with a reminder of perhaps his most famous poem with a tongue in cheek “reply”.

To visit Vienna is to taste history.  So let me take you there. Just for a day.  But what a day! We will start by taking breakfast at Schönbrunn Palace, with Empress MariaTheresa, in the 1740’s.  She created much of the palace as it appears today and she bore sixteen children, so we are privileged that such a busy woman has time for breakfast. This spectacular palace’s lavish interior is only matched by its beautiful grounds and it is not surprising that the Hapsburg dynasty enjoyed it as their summer residence for so many years. Gaze out of one of the windows at the back, down through pristine lawns, to the Gloriette, an ornate stone edifice on a small hilltop. It was used as viewing platform by the Hapsburgs but now houses a café. Sorry about that, Your Imperial Majesty. Now we must hop into our horse drawn carriage, our Fiaker, and be whisked along to Café Landtmann, established in 1873. Landtmann’s is the epitome of a Viennese coffee house. Lush, vel...