One of the darker months The phone rarely rang Her typewrite ribbon fresh The keys unimpressed Cartridge paper laid in the tray Gathering a carbon copy of dust Once the post was checked Orders filed and queries placed in pending She'd roll the chair under its desk Lie on the floor And sleep
Next door, under neon I sat each day Writing out lists of prospects From Kelly's Directory and Kompass Industrial estate after industrial estate Postcode by postcode For the territory salesmen Occasionally compiling a report about small electrical domestic appliances Or drafting the blurb that would sell Slow cookers, steam irons, sandwich toasters I turned up most days Before the news of Lennon I couldn't imagine
She and I spoke so rarely I forgot her name, she mine The thin-windowed false wall Partitioned us Her with perpetual weariness Me with accumulating grief I wonder still What brought us together?
houses for workers became homes of unemployed miles from anywhere
n.b. Not much going on in the old pit villages, unless you can afford a car. As you can see, not many cars, although one has an L-plate. Too many places in England have been built over the years out on a limb, so when the work goes the people become isolated.
Will the Internet and working from home technology bring decent wages back to the hills?
n.b. Nice work Alexander Johnson and your BXT mates – you got to me in the end too and I am part Irish, part Swedish, part Welsh and part English. The United Kingdom is history. I am proud to be a European; embarrassed to be English while The Great Clown is in Downing Street.
Tonight I was advised that I could not sit at a pub terrace because of the weather. I could see the setting Moon in a mostly clear sky. A beautiful night to sit out with a pint, but, oh no, if it rains then I would want to go inside, I was informed and that was not allowed.
So, due to Covid regulations and the weather restrictions, I was not permitted to drink on the riverside patio. I had dressed myself with suitable clothing for an autumnal evening, with the express intention of having a drink in the fresh air. Why the Hell would I want to sit inside a pub when the heavens were on display, the air warm and a river decorated by swans ran beneath me?
And chucking out time from the pubs is 22:00 hrs because Covid-19 only operates in the dead of night, apparently. They can re-open at 05:00 hrs.