Friday 29 May 2020

Jigsaw Puzzle by Andrew Shephard


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.’

Monday 25 May 2020

Green by Gareth Clegg


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 explorers of history, breaking new ground for the first time. Would our names survive alongside the likes of Amundsen, Armstrong, Hillary and Tenzing?

Elle bounded past, adapting quickly to the spongy surface, heading toward the trees. Massive trunks thrust upward to vast canopies way above.

“Jack, it’s amazing. Come on.”

I glanced back to the airlock. “We should catalogue what we’ve seen so far, before—“

“Don’t be such an old fart. We’ll never have this chance to explore such untouched beauty.”

I faltered, torn between our orders and following her deeper into the forest. She was right. My bootprint was the first for over two hundred years. The report could wait.

I walked across scanning the tree-line, but she’d disappeared further into the dim interior. 

“Elle?” I called.

“Over here,” she replied, muffled and distant.

I altered course, feet crunching through ground plants towards her call. After a few minutes, I stopped in the darkness, breathing hard, my hands dropping to my knees. Where the hell was she? The dense canopy here blocked the light, leaving the forest dark and silent.

It was too quiet. I hadn’t heard any animal sounds since exiting the airlock.

“Elle?”

“Help me.” A low and raspy reply from behind one of the massive trunks.

A carpet of moss covered her body like a shroud. Only her face remained, eyes staring upward. “I… can’t… move…” Her desperate voice was a whisper, breath pushed through unmoving lips.

I reached toward her, just nose and mouth visible through the creeping mass of green.

“Don’t… touch…” she managed, before the plant sealed over her. She convulsed, then fell still.

I stared in disbelief until a numbness above my ankle alerted me to the moss already halfway to my knee. I gasped, then my leg collapsed.

“What the hell?”

While hiding from the ruin we’d caused the planet, nature had adapted and removed enemies to ensure her survival. We were just another parasite—but she was the ultimate ecological killing machine.

Friday 22 May 2020

Book Review. 'Benedictus. A Book of Blessings' by John O'Donohue. Reviewed by Virginia Hainsworth



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 his pieces, feel to me like cooling lotion applied to a sunburnt skin.  They soothe and heal.

In all his poems, he weaves his words into a tapestry of magic and if you are drawn to a particular piece by its title, as you will be, it is as if he has peered into your being and prescribed just what you need at that moment.

I remember when, as a child, I found some fairy tales so frightening that I could barely look at the pictures.  And yet, it was hard to resist the temptation of opening the page just a little, to peer inside at what awaited.   Well, for me, some parts of this book are a little like that too.  For example  ‘For a Destructive Encounter.’  I hope this provides solace for some.  I hope never to be among those who need it.

As an aspiring writer, I put down his poetic lines and vow never to pick up a pen again, for how can I ever be even one tenth a crafter of words as he is?  And yet, I eagerly pick up the book again, greedy for the inspiration it brings.  And so, I struggle on, trying to construct some word pictures which can unshackle the mind.

In the words of O’Donohue

‘May my mind come alive today
To the invisible geography
That invites me to new frontiers,
To break the dead shell of yesterdays,
To risk being disturbed and changed.’

Blessings.  Have you counted yours lately?



‘Benedictus.  A Book of Blessings’ by John O’Donohue.  Published by Penguin Random House.  ISBN 9780593058626

Monday 18 May 2020

Change by Anna Kingston


Change
verb   /tʃeɪndʒ/
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 creativity to be seen, of swallowing all the disappointments that had festered and become resentments. 
She felt a little like a Borrower in reverse, trying to be a little bigger instead of staying small and quiet, to make sure that she and her needs were seen, and she’d never been all that good at climbing anyway…
With that thought, she smiled, picked up her bag and keys and silently let herself out of the house, breathing in the quiet morning air and walking towards the future.

Friday 15 May 2020

Love doesn’t need a smile by Annabel Howarth

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 across a rope swing and a den,
It swung across the ravine to check it was safe,
To have its own moment of fun,
To also feel the rush of air fill its lungs with green and blue and let
Encased butterflies flutter free, their bright heady colours spinning,
Yellow and dark green, as the rope swing twisted to a stop.

It carried us on, sometimes all three,
One on its shoulders and one in each arm,
Unless we were all piled onto the old pram,
Before love used its wheels for the go-kart,
And when we stopped on the way, for more play,
It steadied us, as we walked repeatedly along a wall and
Jumped off the end. “Again, again, again!”

Then love invisibly greeted us at the gate,
We could hear it hiss and crackle, as we rounded the corner,
It said “Come in. Are you cold? You’re nesh you are,”
Ushered us to sit on low mismatched stools in front of the fire,
Lay newspaper across its opening, and we would watch the battle rage,
Until a golden mane began to curl around the edges
And love freed it to settle, gently purring, in the hearth.

When we tired of waiting for the chips to cook,
And rubbed the roofs of our mouths in anticipation,
Of the claggy feeling yet to come,
Calling out, “I’m hungry,” in our childish song,
Love brought out the laughter,
It set its false teeth tapping in time with its feet,
Clattering on the tiled floor.

And when love drove us silently home,
Tired and knotted in anticipation,
We looked at the windows for the signs,
that love had drawn back the curtains,
Inched open the back door for the dryer hose,
Rumbled and splashed, steaming into the bath,
And set free her song down the path.


Monday 11 May 2020

Jack Armitage by Chris Lloyd

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 trying to make this happen that the front passenger door bursts open and Harry jumps in, crashes the door shut and shouts at Jack to drive off. At that very moment he finds reverse and the car lurches backwards and crashes into the vehicle directly behind then stalls. Harry goes berserk. Jack though, has had enough so he removes himself from the Consul and takes off down the road, remembering that he is still 200 metres senior school champion.
His smile at that episode could be called beatific except Jack Armitage was anything but. Mr Armitage, as he was known, is a big man. Big hands, fists, big feet all of which had carried him through his chosen field of expertise. That is keeping the competition at bay by dealing out his own form of justice in any disputes. He is one of those men who has good looks too, with chiselled facial features but not overly so. He is also happily married to Susie, a girl from his school, two years his junior. Susie does not know what Jack’s business affairs are, but she imagines him as some kind of entrepreneur who sometimes has large amounts of cash on his person.
Harry Miller was the first and last man to land a punch on Jack. In fact, Harry Miller landed more than a few once he’d found Jack two days after the botched escape. Fortunately for Jack, Harry was never caught or even suspected of the crime otherwise Jack would no longer be of this world.
Jack’s one real regret was marrying Susie, not that he didn’t lover her dearly, no. It was that as his wife, she was involved with him in his mess and while he was in this particular nick, the boys in blue could keep finding excuses to hassle and scare her. He didn’t doubt her one iota but it must be a strain.  However, they will find nothing incriminating in their house and will never find his “office” in a million years. He is one of only two living humans that know that location. The second person is his dad, now residing in a very expensive Care Home, mainly re-living the war.
His reverie is broken by a loud knock telling him to stand back; he complies. His brief walks in and they shake hands.
            “Jack, good to see you. How they treating you? Well I hope.”
            Jack looks Bryan Marwood up and down, notices he’d gained s few pounds.
“You too, not too bad. Not many refreshments in this one. When am I getting out, Bryan? I have things to do.”
“Hmmm. We have a slight problem, Jack, in that our friends here say they have a person who has sufficient information to send you down. Who would that be, Jack?”
“It’s a bluff. How long can they keep me without charge? I guarantee no one, not a single soul knows anything incriminating about me.”
“OK I’ll press them to tell me. You will probably be held without charge for twenty four hours.”
           “Then what? Can they make something up?”
           “They could but they would have to make it clear what it is they have. Leave it with me and stay positive.”
Bryan leaves. Jack racks his brains but there is no one with any knowledge which could be used against him. What he wants now, more than anything, is to go home to Susie. His cell door opens again and he looks up to see Bryan and, of all the people in this world, DCI Robert Frost. This is a turn up.
“Jack, I understand that you know DCI Frost,” Bryan said.
“Long time ago, yes. Well Mr Frost this is a surprise, what’s going on?”

“How’s it going, Jack? I got some papers to show you here. They are sworn statements made
to me in the course of my investigations in to your business affairs. You have the right to read them with your Lawyer, Mr Marwood. Once you have read them you will have the opportu…”
“Hold on here. Am I under arrest or not? If not, I would like to go home. If I am, read me my rights, do the job properly.”
“Jack, in my opinion I think you and I should read them here,” said Bryan.
“Not a hope. Tell him to arrest me or let me go home.”
Robert Frost walks to face Jack, standing very close to him and says: “Jack Armitage I will have you sooner or later, you can depend on it. You are free to leave.” Frost is fuming as he turns abruptly away. “I will have you Armitage, I swear.”
As soon as Jack and Bryan are clear of the nick Jack turns to Bryan.
           “What the fuck was that about? What sworn statements has he got? None I can tell you that for sure. So, what’s his game?”
           “I’m not sure Jack – we should have looked at them when he offered. Yes, Yes, I know what you said but now we do not know whether he’s bluffing or not. I think we should think he’s got something. That way we might have answers if needed. I also do not think he’s the type to make wild claims so be on your mettle Jack.”
           “Seriously, there is no information on me Bryan but as you say I will give it some thought. I’ll also give a call to my friendly DS – see what he knows if anything. Drop me at home, I need a drink.”
Jack opens the front door of his house and Susie runs into his arms.
           “Ohhh, Jack, I been scared stiff. The police have been….”
“Susie, my darlin’ girl don’t be upset, it’s all a mistake. Did they touch anything?”
“No Jack they just came in and told me you’d been arrested and were locked up. What’s happening, Jack? I’m scared.”
“It’s a windup, love. They think I’ve been up to no good, which I haven’t babe. I’ll stay here with you for a few days but I gotta go to fetch my car. So see you in an hour, I promise.”
“No don’t go, Jack. I’m scared enough as it is.”
“ I have to, babe, it won’t take long. I’ll get someone here to sit with you.”
Fifteen minutes later a Range Rover glides silently to a stop on Jack and Susie’s driveway and Sam Downes steps out and walks to the door which is opened immediately.
“Jack, I hope you’re well and Susie of course. I’ll stay here until you get back; take your time mate.”
“Cheers Sam, I’ll be a couple of hours at least. She’s upset I got temporarily banged up today on some flimsy excuse and the filth came here to give her some hassle, the bastards. I need to get my car back here before they find it, if you know what I mean. Keep the doors locked, Sam. I owe you one.”
The two men shake hands and Jack slips away on foot, walks briskly for twenty minutes before he calls another number. Within five minutes a grey Nissan Micra stops and Jack slips inside. He gives instructions to Jonny McGovern. Jonny stops the car fifteen minutes later and Jack gets out, let’s the Nissan disappear and sets off in the opposite direction. He steps behind a high wall attached to a railway bridge and waits. Twenty minutes later he’s sure the Nissan hasn’t returned. He is thankful he has friends he can rely on. He puts a SIM in his new phone and calls DS Carl Parker.
“Carl, I need to know what Frost is up to and quick if you know what’s good for you.”
Parker is confused.
“Frost? Robert Frost? You’re winding me up; he’s retired. It must be, what, two years ago,
maybe more.”
“Well, what I can tell you? I got pulled in earlier today and is was him who called into my cell. So, whatever he or anyone else is up to concerning me, you, pal, are going to find out fast. Understand?”
“What, you testing me or something – he’s retired Jack, I know he is.”
“Listen, Carl it will go very badly for you if you don’t get me what I want to know. Just do what I want and we’ll call it quits, that is a good offer. You better believe me. Tell me you’ll do it.”
“Ok Jack, but I can tell you that it will be difficult if he is doing some sort of special investigation cos it’ll be top secret. I’ll do what I can. Call me later."

Jack kills the call and dumps the SIM and walks for two miles to his car. He also has a spare car parked fifteen metres from his. He unlocks the spare, opens the door and sits watching for a further twenty minutes. He then points his remote to his own car and it unlocks. Indicators flash and all lights come on. He sits still and waits. He has learned to wait over the years and can stay calm, alert and relaxed in most situations.
Once he is certain no one is waiting for him to make a move, he quietly gets out of the spare car, locking it as he does, and walks directly to his own, opens the driver’s door and drives steadily away up the A40 then heads along the M40 west towards Oxford and pulls in to the services at Junction 8. Once again, he waits then walks inside and orders a coffee and sits thinking about what could be going on. However long he thinks, nothing comes to mind. The fact that Frost is poking around though is strange and slightly disturbing, although Jack knows for certain there is nothing Frost will find. It must be a setup, but how and by who?
When he is certain that he is not being followed, Jack drives the fifty odd miles to Godalming and home.

As he drives onto his driveway he sees that all the house lights are on but no unusual cars near. He spots movement in the hallway, somebody in a hurry. As much as he dislikes guns he reaches under his seat and palms the Beretta and strides to the door. There’s a fracas somewhere in the house. Trying to guess what’s going will difficult so he opens the door quietly and steps in. Sam is down on the floor bleeding but conscious. He points upstairs. Jack takes the safety off the pistol and goes quickly and quietly upstairs. 
He controls his fears and creeps to the door of his and Susie’s room. He sees a shadow movement under the door, follows it and squeezes a shot at waist height, bursts into the room, taking a massive risk of Susie being hurt or worse but she is lying on the bed alive with no serious injuries but not moving. His shot through the door has disabled a guy who is now bleeding profusely. Jack then hears a shout behind him and stands stock still. He knows the voice. Of course, this is the setup. He remains cool.
“Harry fucking Miller. Well, well a second unreal turnup in one day. First Frost, now you. I would have put ten Grand on that not happening. What d’you want, Miller? One of us in gonna die in this room and as god gave me breath it won’t be me. Have you hurt her….”
“Shut the fuck up, Jack. I don’t want her, I want you. You are going take me to your office and we will do a deal like the gentlemen we are. Your pal Carl Parker told me a story the other day and I knew I could get you nicked. He told me Frost was looking at you again. It was just too good to be true. I’ve never forgot you putting me in danger of being nicked and now I’ve got you good as dead.”
Jack suspects that Harry has dropped his guard while he thinks he has the upper hand so he spins round and puts two rounds in to him and Miller slumps against a chair and looks at Jack in shock.
“No office for you. You should have shot me, Harry. You always were a pathetic loser. I’m a fucking millionaire many times over and I’ve stayed that way because I’m strong and not shit scared of pulling this trigger. Say hello to hell, Harry.”
He puts a third bullet in Harry’s head. Susie is moving and Miller’s partner is moaning so he carries Susie to another bedroom and locks their bedroom door. He then goes downstairs to attend to Sam who is now sitting but in pain, his breathing is short and fast.
“Jack, see to Susie, I think they drugged her to keep her quiet, I’m ok, just a scratch.”
“OK Sam, so long as you’re sure stay as still as you can. I’ll get her down and take the two of you to my special medic. There’s guy upstairs bleeding but he won’t last long.”
His good friend, Dr. William Brent welcomes Jack and his passengers into his “surgery” and starts the business of reviving Susie and patching up Sam. Jack reluctantly goes back to the house to tidy up after swapping cars with William. It takes thirty minutes and after he ensures, once again, there is nothing amiss in the vicinity of the house, he edges the car onto his drive. However, he is not happy, something not right. Then he realises that none of his external lights are on. Sam’s car is still parked but all the same something amiss so he stops the car and reverses flat out, spins round and floors the car into the distance. For once he is jittery.
He stops the car outside Brent’s house and calls Carl Parker like he said he would.
“What have you got for me, Carl? something good I hope. It’s been a hard few hours and I’m not in the mood to be fobbed off. So, tell me.”
“I’ve got nothing, Jack, except something I don’t understand. Frost has been told to go home and retire properly.”
“You sure you’re not pulling mine, Carl? I hear you and Harry Miller had a heart to heart the other day, he was telling me about it a while ago. Let me inform you, as the bent fucking copper you are, that Mr Miller is no longer able to interfere with me. Got it? Now, one word of this and I will send somebody to see you and yours. I sincerely hope you are listening, Carl. Don’t count on your pension.”

He dumps the SIM and goes to see how Dr Brent is doing. He presses the bell at the “surgery”. Brent opens up and leads Jack to where Susie is sitting up holding her head as if she’d got a massive hangover.
“Jack, thank God you’re ok. What happened, who were those men who came to the house?  
“Nobody, my love. They made a mistake, that’s all. It’s all ended amicably and they won’t bother us again.”
“Can we go home then? I need my bed with you in it, Jack.”
“Yeah me too, Suzs, but we can’t not for the time being, babe. I have to have the place cleared up a bit to make sure it’s nice and lovely for my girl. That’s ok, isn’t it?”
“Why is it messy? I’m confused, Jack. Where will we stay, Jack and what about clothes and things?”
“We’ll take a trip to the coast for while. I’ll get Sam to organise the house we’ll go up to town and get you some new stuff before we go. OK?”
“Oh Jack you are so good to me. Promise you won’t work so we can spend the time together.”
He agreed he wouldn’t do any actual work but might call a few people to tidy up any loose ends.
He reasoned he didn’t need to go back to the house yet as there were no witnesses to put him there except Miller’s partner but Jack reckoned, correctly, that he would have bled out by now. A week at the coast appealed to him too.
He would make a call to a friend of his and suss out whether DCI (Rtd.) Robert Frost was still scouting about or maybe he might be writing poetry, who knows. It’s a funny old life when you think about it.
He later found out that Susie had let Miller and friend in as they were posing as CID while Sam was securing the rear of the house. Sam had got cut trying to save Susie who had then been dragged upstairs and drugged about ten minutes before Jack showed up.
Mr Carl Parker, no longer a copper, Jack made sure of that. His family live in a safe house with a new identity. 
Jack Armitage knows exactly where they are………

©Christopher Lloyd

Friday 8 May 2020

VE Day by Vivien Teasdale

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.

Monday 4 May 2020

Starlings by Jacky Kennedy


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 hatched.

Friday 1 May 2020

Today is the Day by Juliet Thomas



Today is the day, the very 1st 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

But of course I am grateful, my outcome’s not fateful
I’ll start to rise up again
As my body recovers, I’ll start to discover
New ways of keeping me sane

Thank goodness for writing, it’s keeping me fighting
To find the joy in most days
Add in some sketching, and a little gentle stretching
And the warmth of those first Spring rays

My wishes and dreams, need to wait it seems
To drive to those views of the sea
Breathe in salty air, right here I declare
My friends are coming with me

For celebration, a stay-cation
To catch up and laugh to the core
Until that time, I’ll stay home, stay fine
Hoping soon to be together, once more


Image is of a painting of Staithes I did from a photo I took at their famous art festival that normally takes place in September - just one of the places I can't wait to get back to!