Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Jigsaw Puzzle Your world is cut in a hundred pieces panorama shattered, jumbled shapes with no guide to reassembly. ‘I can never be happy again,’ you say, binning paper plates of platitudes. ‘You are changed forever,’ I say, but quietly add (not expecting you to hear) ‘there can be a day, some years away, when you will see a path to cross from dark to light, if you permit the passage to occur.’ You are right to deny it. Everything you feel is right. Rightly angry, you ask me straight. I pause. ‘Yes… That surprising moment came to me like a seagull in flight or a rolling headland against blue sea as I watched gentle junior fingers triumphantly position the final wonky piece of sky into a bright new landscape.’

The airlock cycled, and the heavy external door cracked open with a hiss of pressurised air forcing its way out. Then the smell hit me. It was sweet and fresher than the plants grown in our hydroponics labs. I strode out into an ocean of colour, my eyes widening. “It’s so green!” “My God, can you believe this?” Elle said, peering over my shoulder. After five generations underground, humanity’s return to the surface filled us with both excitement and trepidation, but nature had recovered. More than that, it flourished. Everywhere was green. The foliage, moss, grass, everything! We stared at the vast forest encompassing three sides of our compound’s airlock. The small hexagonal bunker, once pristine white, now crawled with vines and moss, covering the entire structure. The spongy surface gave as I stepped onto a mossy patch before us. My foot sank over an inch into the verdant mass, leaving a deep bootprint as I ruined the virgin growth. We followed the great explore...

This book will not suit everyone.   And yet, I believe that it is a book which, in parts, will appeal to anyone.   Its author describes it as a book of blessings.   Some may regard the blessings as prayer-like and, certainly, O’Donohue refers to God in some of his pieces.   But please don’t let this put you off, if indeed it does.   I look upon it as a book of poems, some of which resonate with me and some which I find less appealing.   But all are exquisitely penned. The blessings, or pieces, are arranged under various headings and invite you to dip into the book at whatever section appeals to you at any particular time.   For example, one of my favourites ‘For Courage’ has the lines ‘Know that you are not alone And that this darkness has purpose; Gradually it will school your eyes To find the one gift your life requires Hidden within this night corner’ How fitting for the present circumstances.   These lines, like many in...

Change verb    /t ʃ e ɪ nd ʒ / The act of becoming different, or the result of something becoming different She wanted this change, craved it even, but, oh, it terrified her, too. Making space for the fear, she could hear the house waking up around her, comforting her whilst she sat with the feelings that threatened to undo everything. As she thought back over the years, she allowed herself to recognise that she had closed her mind to so much, to so many opportunities, because she feared the outcomes, feared the changes that would/might be wrought. Probably for the first time in her life she was going to dare greatly, to let  herself  be seen. She understood now what authenticity of self meant, that “living your best life” isn’t necessarily Insta-worthy immaculate photographs, that showing up didn’t ask you to stop loving the people in your life. At the same time, however, she was done with a lifetime of putting herself at the end of a long list, of not allowing her ...

On days when love seemed to have hidden, Curled up under the covers in a darkened room, It would peak out from the folds of fresh linen, Run its fingers along dust free window sills, Giggle from behind tins and jars in filled cupboards, Skid across the spotlessly clean floor, and Put on its shoes by the back door. Love took us on a walk up the hill for fresh air, Talked about how the houses we passed, “Weren’t there, when I was a lad,” Looked troubled, perhaps, as it Ran through crunching leaves, and Stopped at the shop for 10p mix bags, And a can of pop. Love held out a strong steady hand, While we hopped across the stepping stones of a babbling brook, It stood for a while, leaving us to refill our heads, With the sounds of the gentle, bubbling water, To push out the dread and the red. It held up the barbed wire, so we could roll under, Onto lush green grass, to tumble freely down the hill. It guided us into bluebell woods and feigned surprise when We came acr...

Jack Armitage is sitting on a hard, metal chair, chin cupped in both hands, elbows on knees.   The Green, Green Grass of Home by Tom Jones is in his head “… then I awake and look around me, at four grey walls that surround me…..”. Well, that is certainly true other than the colour, he muses. A wry smile skitters across his face. But here he is, banged up, his past life playing like a Tom Cruise movie. He is back in ’74 on his first “job” with Harry Miller a very nasty piece of work, not that Jack knows that. He is to drive the car that will carry the two of them to their safe place. There are however flaws in this plan in that one, Jack has not passed his driving test and two, the chosen car is an old Ford Consul with a column gear change. Jack is having a bad time remembering how reverse gear is engaged which is critical since there is now a car parked tight up to his front bumper. He has no chance of a forward exit hence he has to work out how to back up. It’s when he is tryin...

A job to be done. Two thousand days, two thousand nights of curfews, blackouts, bombings. Conflicting feelings. Lonely bereavements, sacrifice and struggle. A world at war. But you took the fight to the beaches and won. Then lights reflected midnight tears and triumph. You told us of the hugging, masks discarded, carillons and clapping, sweets and dancing, parades, cheers and street parties. An end of tribulation, the task complete. That brief period of rejoicing! While in some quiet corner of your mind you held your fears, remembered griefs as fate allotted joy or cost, and pondered what was gained and what was lost.

The ‘townies’ haven’t graced our garden for years, but now we’re faced with them. Maybe they left town in a swirling murmuration, rising and falling, twisting and calling, gradually leaving the flock to nest. Beige leaves from pampas grass gathered under the hedge. A starling lifts them into our airspace, under the eaves leaving long strands fluttering like streamers over the gutter. He worries a leaf, turns it into a coil that roils over his head, circles his body. Sun turns his chest purple and green like oil on water. White speckles on his wings, are like stars in a night sky. He tacks the lawn pushing his pointed beak into the grass. There has been a dry spell but an overnight downpour has softened baked earth and now he stabs his stiletto deeply into a yielding soil. Down the garden path a broken pale blue shell. This batch has ...

Today is the day, the very 1 st of May Where a new future for me awaits It feels very odd, to be left on my tod And enter a new state of fate Away from the regime, and chemo nurse team Who have cared for me half the year And after this session, along with their blessing I can start to get rid of the fear From two-weekly plans and interim scans My life has been all about treatment Now I’m more free, to get back to me With family and friend’s encouragement If only this virus, wasn’t so tireless In its bid to take over the planet I want to return, to the places I yearn I’ve done my time, god dammit! I’ve missed all my friends and key fashion trends As I’ve had to become such a hermit No eating out, and G&T droughts Because chemo would just not allow it No walks in the wood, when feeling not good And sleep, well I just cannot find it No concerts to sing in and definitely no swimming Lack of freedom, has been the worst bit ...