December 8th

The city evolves

I’m a phantom, out of phase

flickering, fading

 

the blur of colour

conveyored faces and smiles

I don’t recognise

 

laughter and music

I’m backed into the corner

eternal voyeur

 

Last night, I felt old, out of place, slightly out of sync with modern times, phased out, not quite material, flickering like a busted telly standing in the corner. I was out in Islington, a few friends, after the Arsenal match. We went for a meal of tapas followed by a few drinks. I guess we chose the wrong pub!

August 18th

slender chimney stacks

gothic fume blackened brickthroats

parched in the star blaze

It was too hot to get the train, so me and D walked back from Arsenal to St Pancras, down the Caledonian Road, towards Pentonville. This was the area my parents first lived in when they came to England.

It was a relief when we finally saw the myriad chimneys of St Pancras station over the rooftops. What a building. So glad it’s still there, such a landmark, so beautiful.

April 21st

Down hellish spirals

the virtuous pagan bounds

perpetually

 

After the football yesterday (a drab 0-0 draw vs Chelsea) I took my usual brisk stroll to Caledonian Road tube station. Unless I’m feeling particularly lazy, I take the spiral staircases down to platform level. I do it as fast as I can, bounding, sometimes two at a time. There is nothing like a leg burning descent to get the heart pumping and the mind racing. Although ascending is tougher, it hints at light and redemption. A descent however, (taking aside the pragmatic need to actually catch a tube train to reach a destination!), feels more sinister, feeding the primitive danger receptors in the ancient parts of our brain.

I thought about Dante and his layers of hell. And of William Blake and his depictions of it. According to this website, Caledonian Road has 134 Steps, making it sixth deepest in the tube network. In your face Moorgate! (seventh).

And here is one of Blake’s incredible images of Hell. The Lovers Whirlwind. 1824-1827. (pen, ink, watercolour). Just like the Piccadilly Line! Truly mesmerising. I’d love to see all of these works in full someday. Caught sight of a few of them in the Tate (Britain) last year.

(image from wikipedia)

March 12th

In the misty chill,

River skips through the mill wheel,

Distant tawny calls.

 

I walked back from the station in the dead of night, I’d been to see Arsenal play with my old Dutch friend Chris and his brother in law Ari, both of them enjoying the spat between their two countrymen Van Persie and Krul.

The air was damp with mist and as it was later than normal (I would normally rush back after a game, but I stayed for a goodbye drink) there was no background noise, there was an absence of cars and people. Bizarrely, as I’d lived in the area for years, this was the first time I could hear the river splashing against the old Mill Wheel (now fixed in place) on the edge of Flitwick. I also heard Tawny Owls calling in the far distance.

February 26th

 

Blade thin herons wait,

Secreted in the reed beds,

Striking at silver.

 

On the way back from Arsenal smashing Spurs 5-2, I sat on the train looking out of the window as I often do. Between Harpenden and Luton Airport Parkway station, the train passes over what looks like an old English country scene, apart from any built up area. With a hamlet and millhouse alongside a meandering lazy river, even lazier tributaries feeding it. It was in one of these tributaries I saw two herons, standing still, amongst the reeds. I like Herons, there’s something fragile and elegant about them. And that beak built for fishing makes them look slightly prehistoric.

(Grey heron pic from RSPB website)

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.