More 80s Stuff.......Well, Sorry....!

Cwmdonkin Park Roundabout.

I cruise uncomfortably,

Feeling okay, in a roundabout sort of way.

I'm watching the heavens gyrate around me,

The clear, cold, confused,

oh I don't know.

I'm supposed to know what I'm saying.

Here I am, spinning, spinning way too fast,

You're sitting there as I dissect you.

I'm lying here, lying poetically,

(I don't know why, but it had to be done.)

First the incision, slice, snip,

I don't want to do this, so why ?

The stars speed up and, I close my eyes.

Bizarre, the gulf widens, I push,

I'm pushing you away with my words,

The words aren't so easy to hurl,

You resist, and are pushing back.

I realise I still want this,

But my lies are too tangled now.

I'm confused, spinning, lying, spinning.

The whirling infinities of feeling.

The whole milky way obeys as I say "faster"

"This way, then that", "Slower now."

The pebble in the cosmos that won't move

Is a rebel, named you.

If only I knew then what I (sort of) know now........

Taken on the very last bit that people who are scared of dying from just looking down from an enormous height dare to sit, on the end of Worm's Head, Rhosilli, Gower....

 

and, slightly embarrassingly on another occasion very near the same spot....

Back in the day, when stolen jackets, gifted Arran sweaters, faded shit & cheap jeans, and brown suede shoes were all the rage, well they were in my (then) universe......

 

Hundred Selves.

Just one of your hundred selves,

Came back tonight to say "Hello."

Jumped down from my hundred shelves,

Stayed for coffee, then had to go.

One of you keeps ringing up,

Calling, I suppose, to see,

If I might want a trip,

Or maybe if I am still free.

I know the difference, you're all the same,

I suppose I know its all okay,

It could be some clever game,

But, like the cat, I'm forced to play.

All I know is your hundred selves,

All I want is the only one,

The only one to share my shelves,

But turn around again, you're gone.

19 Glanmor Road, The Uplands, Swansea......

A stone's throw from one of Dylan Thomas' gaffs.......not that we noticed the ethereal nature of where we lived, just smoked copious amounts of things we probably shouldn't.....

 A good year.

And then a surprisingly bad couple of days that destroyed a whole thread of my life, but hey, who bears grudges these days?

Oh yeah, that would be me then Mr Steven Bond......(I know, I know, I do still owe you three months' rent, but hey, we can still be friends surely?)

 

Me, but not my room....... "Emotions" might have been involved......

Oh, and the first poem on this post to be honest, there is a definite connection between the two.

 

31 Bloody years ago......

My hand-drawn mushroom cloud on the map of Swansea Bay.....Meant to be more or less our house, not that it mattered much.....

WTF happened? I woke up, and 31 ACTUAL SODDING years had gone.......

One of the reasons I love/hate photography.

Changing the subject. This randomly ended up in another memory lane trip, so I'd best shoot that before it gets worse...

Expressions

Expression on the clock face

One of surreal impassive love struggles.

Popping questions at the hour glass figurine,

A poseur of riddles to the bedeviled bride,

A lover of conundrums.

My lover, one that waits for omens.

The clock hands me another hour, grudging,

Jealous of the immortal "now",

Time stretch.

The contestant shrugs, the master,

Quizzes her with burning sentiment,

Checks on minutes remaining,

"The Star Prize."

I won a few moments with the hourglass,

And pressed my hand in hers.

An expressionless face with no shadow,

No laughter and no hands,

A time-keeping affair,

Luxurious in small town mindscapes.

I swear I won't say who this is "aimed at", but in hindsight, it could be you, or a cat I once had, for all the difference it makes.......

'Girl's Name'.

'Girl's name', I guess I must miss you,

No rock against a storm,

Or shelter from an avalanche.

But a certain comfort,

In knowing you are there,

I am here.

Oh, I know you don't care,

I know your arm is empty now,

And it doesn't bother me,

I'm in a different world.

No matter how I tried,

I never made it.

Your life is so..., so,

So different and removed.

You don't see the way I do,

I thought you did,

And loved you.

I thought we cared,

No longer, don't lie.

You live on, and I hurt,

Still the time is happening,

I'm okay, in a roundabout sort of way,

But we could have been

As another married couple,

Engaged in bliss, yet not a word,

I envy the mate you choose,

But not for long.

You don't see the way I do,

We're similar, but not an avalanche,

Too predictable and secure,

Not another married removed,

No longer, no lie, I loved you,

And for some damn reason,

It doesn't bother me.

Is it me? Or can anyone else see a bit of a bloody theme? Bearing in mind of course, that the majority of what I've posted so far is 84-present, but focussed on the 80s and 90s pretty much.......God I never quite got it.

Says more than I can put in actual words. You read into it whatever you want to.

Still on the case, just dredging through old shit.

Sorry, normal service will never be quite be associated with this Blog.............

On the "plus" side, the Solstice is rapidly approaching, so there's that...........

x

More Time Please

Near Menheniot

There's an overgrown brambly gate,

Locked, long forgot, galvanised,

Under the viaduct, in the cleft of the valley.

I hid my soul there, brambled,

As the Riviera train clattered above,

Carrying my mind, East,

To return, to return, to reclaim,

Wafting fluffy seeds, late,

Smells like a fox,

Turning towards your house,

Scratching my heart into the stoney

Pillars of never never..

 

Introspecting Times

I'm quite sure there once was a time,

I had some idea, focus, goal,

In fact I had several,

Person, place, achievements, milestones,

Come and go, come and go.

Very high, very not, survival,

Certainty, peace, love, soul-sharing,

Turned into day-to-day silly decisions,

With huge ghosts of

Love, person, place, achievements, milestones,

Because millstones, and hovel life,

So damned close, so many times.

White heat connection,

Souls welding, becomes the

Mis-welded close call, soul mate,

A Western dream becomes a Northern sunset,

And love funeral.

Intensely deep sod-everything love,

Turns into “fond cousins”,

Clinical, cynical, funeral,

Two mourners, no sandwiches.

A Small Death

We've been angry, been sad,

Purely loving, crazy, mad,

But this numb limbo is new,

Nobody can help to get us through,

To clarity, to peace,

Safe space, release.

Need you, can't have you,

Want you, miss you, love you,

Your limbo matches, needs relief,

Third party, maintains belief,

Clings to hope, of rekindled fires,

I slump and bow, heart in mire.

From such mountain height, to have to fall,

Is a death so, sad and small,

Cling to connections that once made sense,

Brings no easy love recompense,

Trapped between fierce love, and not,

In sadness cold, not fiery hell hot.

Come then, release me from the vow,

Tell me of your love now,

For me, or him, or just yourself,

Don't ignore me, or leave by stealth,

Heads held high, hearts now numb,

Where ecstatic breaths are now dumb.

 

Poem. Old.

I can't even date this, but when I was fiddling around with trying to get some of my thoughts on to paper I ended up coming back to the old archives, totally unfinished, and disorganised as they are...and saw this one, and it seems so bloody apt right now.

 

Forgive my handwriting, maybe I'll transcribe it one day.....

The recurring theme, and I have a long drive ahead of me again.

2016 you tested me, nearly as much as 2012. Not quite, but Jeez, work on that sense of humour, please......

Dungeon Wood (Real Place)

As a sort of follow-up to the post I did on local history, based around a wood near where I am currently living, a phone call earlier today caused me to go look up the Bridleways Group, and their claim across some land I'm involved with....then when I did, it turned out that it wasn't the land I had been lead to believe, so that was ok, instead it seems that the equestrians are trying to claim rights of way all over the place in anticipation of a major change in the law coming up in the not too distant future.... Kirklees Bridleways Group Looks a bit like they're "official" doesn't it? They're a voluntary group even if it seems they might be sanctioned by the local authority, when of course they're not.

 

 Still, the internet meandering that the whole episode lead to my turning up this one:

Dungeon Wood

I just get lost in old maps....

Most of Dungeon Wood appears to be a chunk of Beaumont Park these days...... Wish could see how it used to look 100+ years ago...

G+,Google Drive, Google Photos, Picasa etc etc.

How very confusing. Since Gooogle acquired Picasa, my old "Blogger" albums have now been archived. They're still "there", they just aren't obviously shareable anymore.

I probably still have the majority of the photos, and the text that went with them has all gone anyway, some of which I admit was my own doing when I tried to reinvent myself after leaving Lower Chatts Oakenshaw, 4 years ago, and some of which I repeated the exercise on when things at Cliff Road didn't go the way I thought they might. Like all the Paxos photos, and Crete and so on. Silly really.

Now I think that I wish I hadn't done either of those things. A picture of two, five, fifteen years ago, in context was always just that. A snapshot of things past. Why be ashamed, embarassed even? If someone new comes on the scene, can't they accept that at nearly 50, I'm bound to have some sort of history.....?

It still feels as if the Google acquisition is editing my past, albeit inadvertently, and to an extent, with my assistance.

I have often speculated about where this blog should go, as it has long lacked direction. The people I have shared it with over the years know my identity, so I can't suddenly turn it into an anonymous diary thing, which was a thought at one point. Facebook gives you a good dumping ground for "sharing" found links/stories/items/news, so it's not going to repeat anything from there. So what? Maybe I ought to steer it towards the creative side again, photos and writing. Leave the "god what a great band this is..." and "OMG how shocking" sort oif stuff to FB.

I cleared the decks at home for a big life-move to the West Country lately, which has all gone totally tits-up, and that really is another story, so watching my old Blogger photos disappear into  the ether, for about the fourth time, is hardly a new thing, it's just an opportunity to start again....

This is me, taken relatively recently near Yateholme, Holmbridge, with Gwyn. 2e is there somewhere, in the undergrowth, after I had retraced my last-twenty-minutes-or-so steps to find a lost item, a fit-bit watch or similar. Happier times.

It's less than a week to Christmas, and I can't help but feel a bit bloody wretched about how things are panning out. It's hard to be optimistic at the moment. Sod 2016, you were a bugger. 2017, I sincerely hope you've got something nice in store.

There is a little cottage far away.....

Three Years Ago

A lot has happened in the intervening time.

 Castleshaw res. 28/1/12

Heights Crossroads.

How can I sum up my life for these three years? I can't. Loss, finding, endless self-blame & loathing^10, lots of dog walks, endless self-destruction, endless work, the pages flying off the calendar, the clock spinning round and round, new diaries, unexpected trips to unexpected places, Lindisfarne, Cumbria, Flamborough, "Center Parcs", Wales, Whitby, Malham, to name but a few. Reading glasses.....

I decided long ago not to share my private life in any way that could be misread and thrown back at me, as so many times before, so won't change that rule.

It's been rocky, as roads go, hopefully 2016 might be a bit smoother......

Sunday Sun

My view on Sunday. Taken after the first dog walk of the day....

After diddling and daddling, catching up with my books, trying to get other bits & bobs sorted, a dozen coffees and a bacon sandwich it was time for the second walk...

Via Upper Stubbin to Flush House....on the way I came across the galaxy as captured in a burr on this ancient fallen tree....

 

In the wood next to it I found an enormous Yew tree, could it be the actual one that Yew Tree Lane is named after? They're reputed to live for hundreds of years, if not even more than that, so possibly.... There was an excruciating scream, Gwyn had located a snare....and got it firmly round her neck. Nice, not. The wood isn't shot, and the nearest shoot is miles away.... There are many many holes though, and the whole place stinks of badgers & foxes. 

 

 

Over the top and down into Black Sike.....

Now I don't know how to tell if these taddies are frogs or toads, but I know there are natterjacks in the area, and those ones that turn white, though beyond that my toad knowledge runs to nothing..I'd like to think these are going to transform into a million toad one day though.....

  

They're not going to get any interference from the anglers....seeing as how the club that used to rent the dam seem to have abandoned it.....

 

I sat for a while waiting for the dogs to come find me. The fish were jumping, but I couldn't see if there was any cotton to be high... I say they were jumping, it's funny that whenever I put the camera down they started, then the second I thought I'd like to get a snap of them, they turned shy.

Nearly got this one...

 

Someone's been in to the bit where the anglers used to park, seemingly to nick some hefty branches....I could be wrong, as my current info is that the owner is someone I know, though I didn't know he was the owner until later on that day...Maybe he fancied some firewood....

 

I'm embarrassed that I don't know more than a tiny percentage of the 600+ species of wildflowers, what with being a gardener and that..but am hoping over the course of time to increase my measly repertoire as best as I can...Whatever these are though they're very eye-catching...

 

Up to the main road, past what used to be Newlands, a collection of wild memories from the 90s when it was a pub/restaurant, now it's two houses, but the people are nice... Then across what some know as "Randall's field" and into the village for a couple of pints at the Oak...Very civilised.

 

Downhill all the way, more or less, here looking back up the Daisy Field, where are the blooming daisies then? Into Liphill, up to Booth House and down into Hinchlife Mill....Sunday, sorted.

The Internet of Local Things

Apologies to the one or two contributors who added some of the following pictures to FB, (and an odd one or two might be mine, but hey.) but I just wanted to use them to try to illustrate an odd tangent that things can suddenly go in...


There are, I'm sure, 1000s of similar "closed groups", that are equally well meaning, but haphazardly run and worse off for it. Enthusiasts, who eventually dare to come out and give/lend their private pictures, I'm talking local interest/historical types here, nothing weird, though you never know of course...The one most pertinent to me is "Huddersfield Then And Now" (sic).

The sheer scale of the newly realised power to connect things, such as FB, is immeasurable really. If we concentrate on "local history" for a moment though, by way of an easy example...Most people have some old photos, their own, inherited, or other hand-me-downs, or whatever, collecting dust in an old shoe-box or something somewhere, and long-forgotten. An impossible job to collect & collate them all perhaps, but given the nature of "social media" the ambition is less of an Everest and more of a Ben Nevis as time goes along....The same is clear for any kind of data, music, stats, art, documentaries or whatever I suppose, but this is so much more democratic than ever before. The ability for any jumped-up little or big, wannabee, to "have their say" is a mixed blessing obviously, as not everyone has something worth saying in the first place, but bear with me...

The way I'd like to see things develop is for FB to facilitate the joining up of the various contributors to a given subject to work outside of FB itself, say via a Blog or other format, to produce a more polished and 3rd-party user-friendly experience. To cut out the speculative nonsense, the chaff if you like.

Clearly a one "dedicated person type blog" has a lot of merit, but surely a group effort might be more than the sum of it's parts?

I have a lot of ideas, just not enough time to realise them without help. Maybe it's just easier being an observer rather than a doer.. I am a doer, just most of my "doing" is trying to keep sane, solvent, and satisfied, and so on....maybe I don't always get the balance just right.

..oh, and side-tracked, of course, that's a given.

I can't post a link to the current thread that's "grinding my gears" given the "closed" thing, but going back to 1850ish:

These are more or less all the same area, hopefully that's obvious in context....

What I want is for the many old established historical families locally, to root about in their attics and cellars or sheds, or wherever, to dig out their own old pictures of the area, going back to as far as possible, like the dawn of photography....so that this shit doesn't get completely lost.

FB is helping, but this is an uphill thing....

I can't shed much light on the pictures apart from they're all more or less centred around "Digley" which in the 21st Century is only known as a local reservoir, but was previously a village/area that is now mostly forgotten. As I walk my dogs around here a lot I see odd hints and remains of the past, it's pictures like these that put flesh on the bones of that past,and I do think it's a potentially fabulous use of the collaborative nature of the internet that needs some urgent polishing.....

 

Like when did "St James's" (sic) become "St David's"?? Ha! Riddle me that internet....


Happy June people.