Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

  My heart flutters as I drive through the wind battered lanes bordered by tufted grass. It might seem like an odd place to meet, but it’s remote and I feel safe here, despite the lonely surroundings. I park up in a passing place. There’s never anyone here at this time of day as the visitor centre is shut. A chaffinch lands on the bank and stares at me accusingly. I’m used to these avian judgements, why do birds seem to mock me so? I step out of the car and am assailed by screaming gulls and the sound of waves breaking on the cliffs. The salt edged breeze freshens my mind and awakens my senses. I notice an unfamiliar car arriving, a Land Rover, obviously a lost tourist unaware that the visitor centre is closed now. I smile and prepare to wave them down but the man in the car just glares at me and drives on. He stops the car in the car park and turns off the engine. I sigh and head back to my car and phone Jim. He doesn’t answer and I know he’ll be driving, unaware of the rock in ou

  Windowed light curving Showing the foetal image. Growing dilemma. Circling the future, Ripples across the water: His name is given. Child curled in final sleep As a weeping angel smiles, Transforming the soul Polished oak casket Carries my heart and its dreams, Scattered like ashes

We go out on the streets see who we meet mostly it’s sweet and kinda neat a proper treat seein’ our peeps We might have a beer chat if we c’n hear chill with no fear have another beer we don’t do gear keep our brains clear We go to a gig venue ain’t big have another swig have a bit of a jig to tunes we dig see a guy with a wig On to the next place gotta nice bit of bass coming at your face sounds really ace much more space yeah picking up the pace. A guy with a Fender gets up and plays like a GOD with loads of delays it’s like he’s in a wond’rous daze he’s good but we ain’t fazed and we listen totally amazed A girl with a cello is next on the stage opens her music at a random page starts playin' like she’s in a rage her music ain’t from no stone age she stands up like Boudica in a cage The place goes insane we want more of the same but she struts off stage like a theatre dame Then it’s a poet who gets us clappin' struttin' arou

London to Sydney used to be a full day's travel. Even though the flight was down to twenty hours, all the time spent getting to the airport and through customs at each end was still significant. So when Portal arrived on the scene it echoed the death knell for the major airways. Even with the suborbital providers still threatening a two-hour transit time to the other side of the globe, even they couldn't compete with instantaneous matter transferral. Step into a PORTAL TM Arch and step out of the corresponding one at the other side of the world. No waiting for luggage collection at the far end, it was the utopia for long-distance travel. Just like stepping through a doorway. The final frontier of Star Trek was finally in our hands, and the airlines were crapping themselves. I am paid more than most of the top international consultants around the world put together. And that includes the big hitters that work for Disney, Google, Amazon and the financial wizards working for th