Life : All the Gods & None of Them

I believe in all the gods and none of them ,I say to the holy man between sips of beer. He smiles back , part amused , part adversarial , part happy inebriated. If there are gods they are here , in this pub in a moment of happiness. I believe in all the gods…

Life : Air

Where I come from air smells of salt and seaweed, Of coconut tinged gorse and of harbour rich ozone Here the air smells of river and of leaf mold Of oily pine trees and of tangy stock trucks. Where I come from the air surges and rages Its pauses for dramatic effect, grandiose and self…

Life : Early Shift

Amongst the early chilled air and brisk southerly she pulls sleep from her bed and walks towards a cage of neon . Vacant sterile serene. Detergent and steriliser give way to exasperated wary faces and trinkets of gold …gold . The saviour , the sin, the holy . Endure , endure one more hour ,…

Life : The Garden Summer 23/24

I have been putting a lot of effort into the garden this year. During the warmer months each year I tend to spend a lot of time in the garden . This year in addition to the normal veg cultivation I have embarked on a compost project and I have started using the no dig…

Life : Verrity’s Wake

It’s the hottest day of the year , tomorrow will be even hotter. Ted has come to the end of his journey. The pub is full to send him on his way. Francis has been gone 8 long years, ‘Though lovers be lost love shall not’ as the great Welsh pub man would say. Soon…

Life : Ashes Beneath the Turf

I walk through misty rain. The dog jumps and charges in the wind. We come to where manuka and kawakawa meet grass . Here my grandparents lie. Ashes beneath the turf. A place reserved for those who served. Survivors of a second world war. All but passed now, all ashes beneath the turf. I sit….

Beer : Pub, waiting for a curry

I step into the pub. The ambience is warm, cosy and alive. Three small dogs followed by a toddler tear around at my ankles. Young bar staff with colourful hair and elaborate eyebrows herd the dogs and children with beaming smiles. I order an imported Welsh bitter.A character in a cape comes in. Buys a…

Cider : Wassail

Every year on the first or second Saturday of July I celebrate wassail. What the hell is wassail? Well it is a couple of things. There are broadly two traditions of wassail both of which would occur on either the eve of the feast of epiphany or on the old pre Georgian calendar Twelvey Night….

Travel : Came on Holiday by Mistake – Beautiful Day Above the Grave

“ And slowly you begin to discern the queer outline of what’s to come: the bend in the river beyond which, moving steadily, head up (you hope), you will simply vanish from sight.”  Lauris Edmond In Position 2003 A wind gets up in the night. The southerly gusts rattle all the old windows in the hotel…