On Memory

A tune filtered through

Happy chatter, chink and drink

“…holy ground once more”

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n.b. The other night a song played by the Irish folk band in a bar in Southsea, from an album we listened to as children, before we had the wherewithal to buy our own, caught my brother’s attention. The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem album, bought by my father, featured a great love song, “Holy Ground“.

Hearing it being played through the talk of the bar, my brother said, “We know this one!” We did, from childhoods more than 50 years previous.

The magic of music. I could see the record player; the cabinet it sat in; the room it sat in; the view from the window; the house; the memory of singing along.

CLP 16/02/2020

January Road Trip (XXVIII)

Gradual return

Known places, faces, routines

Landing gear engaged

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n.b. Runway lights in view. Lining up the nose, entering the approach path. Tray in upright position, seatbelt on. Hoping for a smooth landing back in reality.

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CLP 29/01/2020

January Road Trip (XXIV)

Mooring bollards wait

As tides, seasons, decades pass

Hope for ships’ return

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n.b. Glasgow’s quayside has been almost totally cleared. What next?

The rusting bollards, like mariners’ widows in denial, still wait by the dock scanning the horizon for signs of home-coming sails.

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CLP 27/01/2020

On Proximity

Having unwittingly been passed on from one prospective landlady to another, I land here. Photo adapted from Google Maps App.

On Proximity

Could we be closer?

Is that even possible?

Not too close I hope

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n.b. In looking for a temporary base from which to start composing the next chapter in my life, Fate has pitched me into familiar territory.

My life-long association with Fratton Park seems set to become a little more intimate in coming weeks.

We’ll have to tread carefully around each other as we have never actually lived this close together before.

n.n.b. I did not, repeat, did not know my accommodation enquiry would lead me to this specific location.

CLP 10/01/2020

On Money

What is it you need?

A ajunge acasa

Here is your ticket

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n.b. Romanian for “To get home”

Yesterday a friend sought help from family and acquaintances to find out what ailed a young, homeless man.

He had travelled in hope of work to Switzerland, having paid an agent to get him there. He was stranded, hungry, cold and wet.

One of her friends spoke Romanian better than he spoke English. They spoke on the telephone.

When his needs were understood, my friend took him to a café for a meal, bought him a ticket home online and funded him to buy his own food for the journey (including some Swiss chocolate to take back to his wife).

Simply giving cash would have been quicker and easier, but does handing out coins and notes alone change anything?

Can we lift ourselves above personal day-to-day concerns and see, hear and help those with more urgent needs?

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CLP 22/10/2019