Dragonflies and Daffodils – 14th March 2025

As the summer days came by, drifting,
my demeanour grew more uplifting;
I took to sitting upon the sill,
to occupy the sunshine’s gifting.

Long gone the air of old winter’s chill,
April showers and softening still;
the harshness of all those darkest nights;
open the window to dog days thrill.

Ever changing, yet familiar sights,
somehow, the world now set to rights,
Lee and Nancy, with their velvet song,
saw me shine under the bright stage lights.

The future mine, I could do no wrong;
angels of innocence kept me strong;
yet now, the window, open too long,
the chill returns, and my hope all gone.

Nancy
her deep blue eyes
watch me from the cover
first stirrings of teenage dreaming
beauty

A chain rhyme quatrain (with bonus Cinquain) for an AllPoetry assignment, and shared with dVerse with the prompt Open Window.

During the summer, when I was 11 or 12, I would sit on the sill of my bedroom window with the window open to the birds and my imagination. I would imagine that I was the next Lee Hazlewood singing along to the whole of the Lee and Nancy album and hoping that I would be talent-spotted by any random passerby, of which there were very few as I lived in a remote countryside village. Not helped by the fact that I would duck away in shyness if anyone ever did come by! I was also a terrible singer.

I remember this album cover clearly and was sure that Nancy Sinatra had blue eyes! I can still see it in my mind!

But then look at this poem that I wrote 4 years ago, where I clearly state that she has dark eyes! Don’t trust your memory!

Did I just write a seasonal poem, too? I may have to kill myself.

Nancy’s Eyes – 11th July 2021

A youthful head full of fantasies
Love songs sung out of bedroom windows
Piercing dark eyes staring into mine
I study every contour of the dimples ’round your nose

Desperately seeking the warmth and comfort
To learn the secrets of your touch
Six more aching hearts on the other side
The urges of desire are too much

14th Mar 2025 – This poem suggests deep, though unclear, memories of the feelings from that time.


Gratitude Journal

I am so happy and grateful for the passionfruit plants I bought that are growing like crazy and about to bring us lots of fruit. It’s so good to watch something grow from seed and get flowers or fruit from it.


The weekends disappear so fast – weekdays too, really. Still, at least this weekend I had time to continue posting to my blog and also going through old bits of writing and letters and considering how to add them at some point.

It’s weird to be spending time documenting the past and not really doing that much in the now. I guess it is a good time to be doing it though, as the virus continues to spread around the country.

Amy has continued her dancing regime and lost a little weight again. I had my first drink in a while last weekend and feel I somewhat suffered for it through the rest of the week by not doing much exercise and gaining a little weight. The hangover wasn’t so bad, but the wasted time stings.

I’m really enjoying playing guitar, though it is hard for me to perfect it, it’s keeping me focused.

At Utopia this morning, besides drinking two fabulous coffees, Art was telling me his building is without water again. Every time he complains to ‘the people’ (I don’t know who actually controls this), they just tell him that he should understand that it happens because he is a long way from the source. This is an obvious cop-out, as he pays the same as someone right next to the source. People are really lazy to make things work efficiently and for everybody here. Unequal and corrupt, as Art was able to tell me through Google translation.

I can ignore this kind of thing most of the time, though I have been (perhaps mistakenly) following the Thai news a bit more closely these days due to the spread of the virus, and I see these kinds of symptoms everywhere. I feel frustrated for the kids I teach. I have a way out, but they may not.

Lookin’ For Clues – 29th December 1980

Record of the Week: Lookin’ For Clues – Robert Palmer

Expecting Graeme 10am – he didn’t come – should come tomorrow
Dentist 3.20pm

11th July 2021 – Graeme Gray – it was all his fault. Somewhere in 1979 or 1980 he told me about this outrageously named band the Sex Pistols and their song Friggin’ in the Riggin’, the lyrics of which excited these typically dumb 13-year-old boys. For some reason I feel that it was later that I saw the Sex Pistols video for ‘Pretty Vacant’ on Top of the Pops – but looking back it seems that that was in 1977, so I had already come across them, perhaps not knowing who they were. I do remember though their bass player, whom I commented to my mother, looked like Frankenstein. My mother and I would always watch the horror double bill on Saturday nights, after Match of the Day, so Frankenstein and Dracula were always a clear black and white image in my mind.

Frankenstein on Top of the Pops

These were the clear seeds of my interest in punk rock and it didn’t take long for me to immerse myself in it.

It seems weird to me now that I would invite a friend over on the same day I had to go to the dentist. Time has a different meaning to pre-teens though.

Anyway, later in 1979, Graeme’s parents moved out to the New Forest, to manage the Red Shoot Inn, yet somehow we managed to stay in touch. I felt it was fairly unusual for kids our age to stay in touch by old style phone in those days – if you weren’t within biking distance and attending the same school then it was practically impossible to be friends.

Graeme and I had a few adventures here before I was forbidden by his parents to visit again.

Each week I would write down whatever song/s stuck in my mind from listening to the radio. I’m just reminding myself about this Robert Palmer song as I have no memory of it now. An appealing upbeat jaunty pop number with a bit of a quirky middle section. Goes well along with XTC and Squeeze tunes that would have been popular around this time.

Music was becoming a bigger part of my interest, though as it had been an interest for most people generally as there weren’t really many other options, it was always around and I often looked through my mother’s collection of June Tabor, James Last and Martin Carthy records and fantasising about these people and their lives. I couldn’t stop playing her Lonnie Donegan album and the Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood album, often sitting in my window singing along, hoping that my Nancy Sinatra may hear. I had a fabulous fantasy world in my head, stuck out in the Dorset countryside.

I spent many hours looking into these eyes…