January 31st

 

Time to choose. Be Brave.

Pin your colours, or you’ll grow,

Saggy boobs of shame.

 

I was invited by the Southbank Centre to attend the press preview for the David Shrigley exhibition at the Hayward Gallery today (formally opens tomorrow). They liked my blog! Even with all the profanity and ill informed opinions! So I was proper chuffed by that. First time ever (and perhaps the last) I’ll get to say “I’m here for the press preview” in a Sean Connery voice (I didn’t do the voice).

I’ll write a proper post about all things Shrigley on my other blog, but for today, a Haiku about my favourite Shrigley image. It was on a greeting card I bought once. It’s not in the exhibition, but it was my first exposure to David Shrigley, so it’s my way of honouring the first bit of his work I ever saw. And yes, the exhibition is great, worth a visit.

January 30th

Heavy swirls of mist,

Water spirit’s shower screen,

Pass her the towel.

 

I was walking to the station this morning and glanced to my right, into the moors, to look at the mist clinging to the ground. I thought of the Japanese tradition of spirits in everything. Trees, Sun, Air and in this case Water. Some spirits are kind, some are malevolent (I’ve watched enough episodes of Monkey to consider myself an expert), others just like to take a lot of showers.

January 29th

 

Sombre steps, old priests,

Frayed feathers, contemplating,

Stooped, thought gathering.

 

Another anthropomorphic Haiku today I’m afraid. Saw some Rooks on my drive to Hertford. They weren’t in a group, they were spaced out (five or six of them) a good ten yards away from each other along a stretch of grass verge running parallel to the road. They always look deep in thought to me. As if they have arms folded behind themselves, stooped forward, taking stiff strutting steps and mulling over great worrisome issues taking place in the world.

Of course they were probably just looking for worms.

(pic from the RSPB website)

January 28th

 

Vanquished enemy,

Trophy prised from dead fingers,

Jade, Gold, Agate, Blood.

 

On my other blog, I wrote about the Wallace Collection. A photo I took, of an old dagger, seemed to tell a story. A story I’ve made up, and although improbable, not inconceivable either.

January 27th

 

Frost giant, tear fall,

Winter caress, piercing breath,

Her skin shimmers, love.

 

The little ripples of the cold breeze on the surface of the pond looked very beautiful today.

January 26th

Heavy lids, aching,

Fitful sleep, dark dreams, dark clouds,

Keep writing, thinking.

 

I felt and feel rather ill today. Had only a few hours sleep, interrupted by sore throat and a raging thirst. Was meant to go up to Yorkshire for work, but I couldn’t possibly do it. So I worked from home. A long old day too. This morning, I could feel the cold boring into me, my brain in some sort of fuzzy cocoon, sheltered and distant.

The dark clouds just added to this feeling of melancholy. I was in a bit of a daze, but there is a kind of perverse enjoyment in this feeling too. I feel creative and different when I’m ill. Sadness brings out the best in my writing. Shame my creative attention was distracted by my day job, this was a day I could have happily curled up in bed with a laptop and did a bit of stream of consciousness. Sadly, despite the big build up, today’s Haiku isn’t the best. Never mind. It’s not even the end of the first month and I’m struggling. But working long hours with only a laptop screen and small window to look out of (and Loose Women on ITV when I have my lunch) doesn’t give me much inspiration.

I hope I’m better tomorrow, I must’ve had 5000 calories today. Need fresh air and exercise. And sleep, blessed sleep.

January 25th

Debbie was away on one of her swimming adventures, so Katie our cat had the displeasure of relying on me to meet her every whim. I’m not very good at being the cat’s butler / giver of affection.

Begrudging knee knead,

A poor substitute, disdain,

It’s just not the same.

January 24th

Buried by his shame,

Mule flower, pressed and preserved,

Defying God’s law.

 

Watched Botany: A Blooming History on BBC4. Captivating and fascinating, about the pioneers in plant science. What drew me in was the gardener who performed the first deliberate cross pollination/hybridisation between two species, Thomas Fairchild.

He chose a carnation and a sweet william. And it worked. But the new species was sterile, much like a mule.

As a religious man, he kept his discovery secret for many years, fearing he was dabbling in the creation work of God. But he needn’t have worried, his work was considered scientifically groundbreaking.

January 23rd

I am incapable of using chopsticks, I feel really cack handed and manage to eat about two grains of rice per half hour when I try.

Working for a Japanese company, this could be career limiting, you might not think so, but imagine if a stranger from another land came to your dinner table and proceeded to lean forward, shoving his face in his plate and without using his hands or any utensil, started to trough like a sow whilst squealing and making contented grunting noises. This is how I imagine I am perceived when I ask for a big fuck off ladle to spoon my rice with in a Japanese restaurant.

Today I met a senior executive from our parent company and my first stupid mistake was to forget my business cards (a big no no). Luckily our meeting overran and I didn’t have to suffer the indignity of exposing my chopstick disability if we were to go to the local Japanese eatery, we had a working lunch so I took solace in the familiar comforts of an egg mayonaisse baguette, which I still managed to bollocks up eating. The last bit, the end bit, was slightly too big for one mouthful, I knew if I bit it in half, egg would have splurged all over my brand new shirt. So instead I opted for the “putting it all in my mouth in one go” option. Normally this is ok, I have a big mouth, once I got 4 whole digestives in vertically and there was room to spare, but I misjudged the docking procedure, so not only did I have a bulging mass of egg mayo and baguette in my mouth, but it started to ooze out of my face. My mouth, nose, ears, eye sockets, like some sort of virilent and fast breeding ebola virus, foaming and dripping all over the floor. I managed to wipe most of it away and dispose it before I was too humiliated.

So today’s Haiku is about my inability to use chopsticks.

 

Chopsticks defeat me,

My big clumsy monster claw,

Grasping at nothing.

January 22nd

 

Crows dance, Buckshot specks,

Invisible threads weaving,

Murder tapestry.

 

As I was driving down to London I saw a great number of crows, perhaps fifty of them, high up in the Bedfordshire sky. They were swooping in and out, seemingly having the greatest fun without crashing into each other. It did look like they were weaving this great invisible tapestry in the sky. I’d never seen so many crows in a great black cloud before, a proper murder of them.

And seeing as Debbie is using her artwork to supplement her Haikus, I’m going to do the same, so I’m using her artwork too :)

Crows, 2010, by Debbie Brown, woodcut on monoprint. 10/25. Reproduced by kind permission :)

January 21st

 

Dusk comes, tiny yawns,

Mud caked feet pass, crushed acorns,

Breakfast time for sprites.

 

Went for a run earlier, it was windy and desolate. When everyone goes home from their dog walking and evening walks, I sometimes wonder if the woods and moors come alive at night?

January 20th

Dragged through pain, blindness,

Hot tears falling, reminders,

Hollow thoughts of home.

 

Was getting a little bit excited, you know, in a controlled stoic, square jawed, polar exploration way about two important Captain Scott exhibitions this year, to commemorate the 100 years of him and his team reaching the South Pole, but also of his death, expiring in the icy wilderness on the long slog back. One is at the Natural History Museum and the other at a museum I was ignorant of until a couple of weeks ago, the Polar Museum at the Scott Polar Research Institute, Cambridge.

I’m looking forward to seeing Scott’s diary (on loan from the British Library) with that poignancy in his last letter to his wife and final line, his hand so shaky through weakness “For God’s sake, look after our people”. Also, the photographs of Herbert Ponting and all the artefacts and scientific specimens collected.

My Haiku however is a tribute to Irish polar explorer Tom Crean, a mainstay of Scott’s expedition as well as others for both Scott and Shackleton. He seemed to be a big gentle bloke, one of those guys you always want on your team, even tempered, reliable and utterly trustworthy. Crean was a member of the support party for the final push, so was ordered to turn back despite being so close to the pole (168 miles), so devastated, he and two others followed the trail back to base (Edward Evans, William Lashley). They got lost and needed to take a long detour, meaning their food was in short supply. The Haiku references his heroic solo walk, 35 miles in 18 hours in terrible conditions to get help for his colleagues, Lashley was weak, and Evans was sick with disabling scurvy and snow blindness. The hot tears were Crean’s, he thought Evans had died. Evans later recounted “his hot tears fell onto my face”.

The illustrated children’s book Tom Crean’s Rabbit is a wonderful true story, about him trying to find a safe warm haven for the rabbit on Scott’s ship Terra Nova as they voyaged south. Well worth buying. By Meredith Hooper and Bert Kitchen.

 

 

Tom Crean (pic from Wikipedia)

January 19th

 

Today’s Haiku is about Trolls, we watched Troll Hunter last night, a Norwegian film about… Trolls. It’s a fast paced, comedy horror, there is beautiful scenery aplenty too, as you’d expect, from what is a stunning country. We decided we like Trolls, they get a bad press. But they are just following their instincts right? If they want to kill humans we shouldn’t judge them for it, it’s just what they were made for.  We should run, like we’ve run for generations before.

Trolls are cool, Luke Pearson also wrote a graphic novel with a Troll in it, that is brilliant too. Hildafolk… I cannot recommend it enough. Another positive representation of Trolls is here, a little (free) short story by Yasmin. She and her creation, Glenda the Troll are both very talented!

As for Tolkein, I love you man, but you were mean to Trolls. Or at least Gandalf was anyway.

 

Beware of bridges,

Of blackened pines, caves and mines,

Hiding, biding time.

 

An artists impression (well, my impression) of a Troll. He stands three metres tall (about ten feet) and smells of rotten roast chicken. I saw him in the moors one moonlit night I think!

January 18th

 

Weathercock straining,

To catch glimpse of gliding crows,

Yearning through the rust.

 

There is a diversion in place at the moment, due to resurfacing or something of that ilk. Which means us humble villagers need to drive the scenic route to Flitwick, a journey which normally is 1.5 miles is now significantly longer (by 3 or 4?). So as I was driving to the gym I passed the impressive site of the beautiful old church in our sister village of Flitton, the weathercock at the top seemed to be twisting and turning to catch a look at two crows which were riding the wind, expertly gliding and banking in the air without beating their wings. I felt sorry for the Weathercock, it looked like he really wanted to fly too.

January 17th

 

From Aegean boats,

To the blood soaked mud and sand,

Evil eye protects.

 

Close ups of two tanks housed in the Imperial War Museum below. I was fascinated to see that the crew (I assume) had painted Evil Eyes on their tanks. The first was a World War 1 tanks, the second from World War 2.

In Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cultures, the Evil Eye is a powerful talisman to deflect evil. You see it all over the med, painted on the bow’s of boats, on the top of doorways, around peoples necks, to bring protection, to ensure safe passage, it’s used like a St Christopher. The stylised blue eye is the symbol of choice. Blue eyes are considered to be the eye colour of the devil in the med… so if you mark yourself with a blue eye, you protect yourself, in a kind of perverse backwards logic.

People wear them, not just as a travelling talisman, but to deflect ordinarily well intended compliments. Yes, compliments. As these compliments, whether the person delivering them is genuine or not, have a tendency to turn into a curse when they are intercepted by demons or the devil and actually deliver you the direct opposite of the compliment. For example “your little boy has a beautiful smile” will put that child at risk of some sort of mouth injury.

Hence a compliment is sometimes accompanied by a spit (especially when you are complimenting a child!), to show your good intentions! (This is a double protection on top of the recipient wearing an eye stone). So some older people will be offended if you compliment their children without that going hand in hand with spitting at them! The spit although aimed at the person you are complimenting, is actually trying to shoo a spirit or the devil away from the child to ensure the compliment isn’t going to be turned into a curse. Complicated and weird? Yes. But don’t worry, you don’t have to hoke up a big green grolly and flob it on the childs head… it’s just a pretend spit, a spit sound. So it’s vaguely civilised.

It isn’t so widespread now, but I certainly remember it from my youth and from my mum’s generation. So if you do meet a 95 year old Greek lady, don’t make compliments, don’t spit either. Just smile lots!

Anyway, back to the tanks, I wonder how the idea or the superstition came to these fighting men.

 

Must go back and do the museum justice, the art gallery looked amazing from a brief look and the holocaust exhibition is very moving

January 16th

Another lovely day, frosty and sunny. Working though so didn’t get out, although I did get to go to the gym for the first time in 2012/since my injury. I thought about the Look Around You series one event we attended at the BFI the other day, so I set out to find vids on youtube of “Experiment” a very odd but compelling Schools and Colleges TV programme from the 1970s / 80s.

It was narrated in a neutral, emotionless way by a vaguely cross sounding posh man. Clinical, detailed, no fuss. As I kid, if I was off school, I’d look forward to this programme for some reason! If I was ill, I’d be wrapped in a blanket in front of the telly watching any old Schools and Colleges programmes, I thought this was the best!

I wanted to find a vid that I could chuckle at, in light of Look Around You’s spoofs and to give me a nostalgia hit from my childhood. Unfortunately, I found a very disturbing one. I actually couldn’t watch it to the end. The poor locust in this episode is subjected to a number of painful indignities and tortures, I’m surprised they didn’t nail it to a little cross and make it walk to it’s own demise!

Makes me wonder if it all was entirely necessary? They know this experiment is tried and tested, let’s take it as read eh? Why subject an audience of children to the dismantling and dismembering of an innocent creature? Educational or not, the youtube clip is only for the strong of constitution!

 

Antenna circle,

Legs shorn, stuck down, cut open,

Science and torture.

 

January 15th

 

Debbie pointed out a Treecreeper to me today, I’d never seen one before. it was skirting up a tree in the moors, looking for insects with its curved bill very distinctive. Started at the base and worked its way up the trunk. When motionless, it’s hard to spot, but it moves with such energy. I guess it needed to, it was cold, it needed to find creatures to eat.

 

A knot in the wood,

Ascending in tight spirals,

Probing, exploring.

 

(pic from RSPB website)

January 14th

 

We went for a walk in the Moors earlier, even though it was mid-afternoon there was still a covering of frost and some of the ditches and tributaries of the River Flit were totally frozen fast. The big pond on Flitton Moor was almost entirely frozen over bar a little ice hole in the far corner, from which some ducks flew away from, as we’d inadvertently disturbed them. Otherwise the ice looked quite thick as someone had seemingly lobbed a log onto it and it hadn’t broken the surface. Not sure if it was quite ready for ice skating however!

 

Torpid under ice,

Lurking carp’s cold eye observes,

Meek warmth reflected.

 

Pic taken earlier today, The Pond, Flitton Moor. Ice bound.

January 13th

It was a beautiful winters day today, clear blue sky, a chill in the air and with a gentle breeze. Or at least it looked like it was from my window. I was stuck at home working and didn’t get out.

My mind drifted to Suffolk, one of my favourite places. I just wanted to be wrapped up in a big coat, walking on a deserted beach.

 

Shoreline Reverie,

Sand dune cliffs, boats by the quay,

And sun striking sea,

(me and my little nephew Luca on the beach at Southwold in April)

January 12th

Had a really lovely day yesterday, we went into London in the evening, popped to the Hayward Gallery for a look at the “Not a pop up” kick off for Nobrow books, a brilliant up and coming book and graphic novel publisher.

We bought some lovely books and postcards and then moved onto the BFI where we watched the whole first series of Look Around You (classic BBC science spoof series for the uninitiated, taking the piss out of 70’s/80’s schools and colleges science programmes). And there was a Q&A at the end with Wossy and the writers/stars/director of the show.

But my Haiku is not about any of that… it was about the incredible sunset as we drove to the station. So…

 

Rose Petals Falling,

Behind the sun’s chariot,

Surrenders the day.

 

January 11th

Popped into the British Library on the way home. I feel proud that we have such an institution. With an aspiration to collect all of the books ever published, much like the great Library at Alexandria, one of the ancient wonders of the world, before it was razed.

As it’s right near St Pancras station, I sometimes dwell there while I’m waiting for my train home. Enjoy tea and cake whilst making use of the free wi-fi, catching up on work or creative writing. Mostly, I mooch around the exhibits. It’s just incredible. I’ll probably write a proper blog about it someday. At the moment, there is a an temporary exhibition on Charles Dickens. The permanent exhibition “The Treasures” is also astonishing, with the collection rotated every now and then to see more great works or hand written drafts by the authors themselves. And the books are stacked high, mighty towers of books in secure glass, shelves upon shelves, visible from pretty much every part of the central atrium.

There is a copy of the Magna Carta there too. Incredible. This is an artefact that defines our country. Where King John was forced into concessions, where the rule of one was challenged, where human rights were asserted. This clause, the most famous, is still law today (from 1215).

“No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of his rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled . nor will we proceed with force against him . except by the lawful judgement of his equals or by the law of the land. To no one will we sell, to no one deny or delay right or justice”

Right, the Haiku!

 

Visitations, Ghosts,

Fragile firsts, frayed, dulled, precious,

Dragon scales tower.

 

A copy of “The Cock Lane Ghost” which forms part of the Dickens Exhibition (hastily photographed as I wasn’t sure whether it was allowed or not, there’s definitely no photography in the “Treasures” area and definitely no flash photography anywhere). It refers to a widely reported ghost story in the 18th Century. Dickens was fond of “real” ghost stories (and this one in particular) but was a bit of a sceptic himself. That didn’t stop him using supernatural themes throughout his work.

 

January 10th

 

Walkways spun, silk webs,

Tense, Taut, Astride the platforms,

Mocking train departs.

 

They’ve changed the layout at Farringdon station as part of an ongoing renovation. There’s a dizzying array of exits, stairs, glass tunnels bridges (like the ones hamsters use in their pens) criss crossing the station. I made a bad choice of bridge I think as the stairs at the other end seemed to double back on themselves about four times. It was like an Escher optical illusion, was like I was walking on stairs upside down on the ceiling, then I was the right way up, it was disorienting. Finally I reached the platform I needed and the train was sat there.. I had that moment when you know there is a tiny chance of getting on, as it’s still stationary at the platform, but all the doors are closed… therefore it’s getting ready to drone away… Do you try to hit the door open button? Or not? I didn’t, which was the correct decision as it moved as soon as I got near it, so I didn’t humiliate myself by running full pelt in front of the other commuters waiting for the slow service. However, 10 seconds earlier, or a better choice of bridge… and I’d have made my train. So I got stuck for half an hour waiting for the next one. Signal problems… “First Capital Connect apologises for the delay to your service” SHUT UP!

Bollocks.

Ps – I originally wrote (and published) this – but I don’t like it, not good enough. Keeping it here to show the process of rewrite can mean chucking it in the bin and reworking the concept from scratch! I did retain some of it though.

New walkways gleaming,

Glass hamster tunnel, wrong choice!

Mocking train departs

January 9th

 

Legend cast in bronze,

Returns, surge of red and white,

Thierry Henry.

 

Yeah… this is totally gushing. But I I don’t care. Was privileged to be at the game tonight. What a way to win a match. As my good friend Bossman said in a text “had to happen!”. Good times. Still emotional. He loves Arsenal and we love him! Keep adding to the goals Thierry.

January 8th

 

Sharp knife, incision,

Their little heads peeled, stacked high,

Boiling pan rattles.

 

No, I’ve not taken to murder and cannibalism. It’s a Haiku about preparing brussels sprouts. Mmmmm… sprouts. Why is this interesting? it’s because I rarely cook, so for me this was a rewarding experience!

January 7th

 

Skin splits, spills chalk blood

At worlds edge, hills born, earth torn,

Cold white tongue withdraws

 

This Haiku is about Pegsdon Hills, how very inspirational and beautiful they are. My other blog has many more photos of the area and some background as to why.

January 6th

 

Roadkill, Two for joy,

Dragging heavy carrion,

Magpies pecking flesh

 

Driving to Woburn Sands today, saw a couple of Magpies going at an indistinguishable squished animal on the road. They did seem to try to drag it out of the way of my oncoming car before giving up and flapping away. I’m sure they were right back onto it as soon as I past them.

They get a bad press, but I love all crows, suspicious, inquisitive and intelligent creatures that they are.

(image courtesy of RSPB website)

January 5th

 

Palaces of glass,

Scuttling drones and workers strive,

In shadow not light.

 

On a windy Thursday I took my first commuter trip into work. The sun poked through the unsettled sky and brilliantly reflected off this unusual building on Baker Street near our offices.I’d normally have tried harder to capture the sunlight, but I was in a hurry! Another day at the hive awaited me!

January 4th

I bought a lovely old book on eBay (from the early 70s), a little Christmas present to myself. It’s called the Juniper Tree, it’s 27 stories by the Brothers Grimm selected and translated by Lore Segal, who has made them as faithful to the original German as he can. None of this watered down crap. Fairy stories are violent and frightening, full of foul acts, murders and dubious cruel characters, but with a clear lesson running through them and where normal people can be heroes. Children love this stuff, we shouldn’t patronise them by making decisions on their behalf as to what is disturbing or scary.

What makes it even more special however, is that it’s in two volumes in a solid old slipcase, each story comes with a Maurice Sendak illustration. I read one earlier today, The Poor Miller’s Boy and the Cat. It’s very short, a simple tale that you shouldn’t underestimate anyone, that even someone of supposed limited abilities can make great things of their life.

And the illustration is sublime! Anyway, today’s Haiku..

 

Simple miller’s lad,

Seven years a cat servant,

To become a Prince.

January 3rd

 

Eucalyptus bows,

Wind whipped and subservient,

Waylaid, flayed, cloudburst.

 

The wind was really flying this morning. And the rain and hail was falling down in sheets. It was a good day to work from home. Looked miserable out there. Poor commuters, first day back for a lot of them!

The view of the Eucalyptus tree from our upstairs window, I’m always impressed by how much punishment it can take and how much flexibility there is in its movement.

 

January 2nd

Still feeling quite rough today, but drove to Waitrose to buy some essentials for fighting colds (cake, pies, coke zero). On the drive back, coming in the opposite direction, I saw a really old fashioned tractor, a working one, but with no cabin and the farmer was sitting high in it, chugging along. It was like a momentary time slip, a throwback to more pastoral times.

 

Old flat capped farmer,

Vintage tractor chugs slowly,

Stacked up with hay bales.

January 1st

The song thrush joyous,
Lift the fog behind my eyes,
A new year begins.
 
An inauspicious start to the year, awake before sunrise, head full of cold. Didn’t celebrate new year, watched Match of the Day and went to bed.
The weather has been so mild it seems the birds are either confused, thinking Spring is coming and are making a concerted attempt to establish their territory, or are just happy (if you can assign such an emotion to birds) that they aren’t waking up frozen. Thus they have the energy to sing. So when light did start breaking, we heard the Song Thrush. Couldn’t see it, but you know it will have its chest puffed out, taking the highest vantage point to sing their intricate compositions.
Despite feeling ill, this has cheered me up.

Shame I’m missing the traditional family New Years Day barbecue today and despite the temptation of charcoal grilled lamb I wont be able to manage the drive, putting aside the fact it would be in bad spirit of me to turn up and infect everyone with my lurgie.