The sunlight on the café counter. Clatter, scrape and second cuppa. Stainless, Sheffield. Bowl of sugar. Elbow, knuckle ink and finger butter. Gingham vinyl tablecloth. Spoon song, ketchup, salt and pepper. Bubble. Double egg and chips. Love Me Tender, tiny speaker. The market barker's comedy - Same routine since ninety three. "arfur cue f'fifty pee." … Continue reading Tender.
Sam, seven hundred and twenty days now haunched on the blue blanket in the abbey square, the railings of Saint Hilda's shoring him up. He arrives every mid-morning, avoids touching the crowd on the streets with a nimble dance step, a side step, a series of hops and feints and bounces. He lays out his … Continue reading This is the sign.
Despite having spent an age arranging the blind so that she could sit on the rug with her back to the sofa and watch the morning light dance within their slatted lengths, she found herself under a heavy cloud, brewing and quite unable to play. She laid the cold horn on the sofa, scooped up … Continue reading Birdsong of The Spoons.
I see her, Little Annie, in a shaded space on the far side of the street, vixen, stood against her trestle, beneath a tarpaulin that shivers. It is draped and slung with floating dresses, throws and scarves; tie-dye collage against a background of movement, of brickwork, of shapes and faces. She is weightless, appears so, almost … Continue reading Her Picasso Gift.
OS Grid reference. NY785635 Beltingham is a small village in Northumberland. It is situated 1 mile southeast of Bardon Mill and 10 miles to the west of Hexham. Attractive stone houses surround a little green. There is a fine Georgian house near the church, and another that once was a bastle house. It is either an … Continue reading Five Miles of Beltingham & Briarwood.