On the Surface v

Lumps and hummocks rise

Above East Anglian towns

But not high enough


n.b. An old radar tower, from the Second World War, or the Cold War, is now used to distribute wireless and mobile telephone signals.

At around 110m high, this tower is as tall as a football pitch is long. It is an impressive and strangely elegant structure. It stands at Upper Stoke, just outside Norwich, on a slight rise in the land, just 60m above sea level.

Whoever gets to climb the ladder to do running repairs at the top must have nerves of steel.

In the whole county of Norfolk, the highest point of its gently-shaped surface is close to the coast at West Runton, where Beacon Hill is 103m above the sea. By comparison, Scarfell Pike is England’s highest point at 978m, (3,208 ft).

Given the continuing rise of sea-levels the land heights are approximate and possibly over-cooked.



On the Surface iv

Obvious question

draws out the old, bare-faced lie

“No, everything’s fine.”


n.b. Who’d think Alexander Johnson would give a straight answer, or indeed ever answer? Obviously this senyrū could be related to other situations.

CLP 15th October 2020

On the Surface iii

Now I want to know

What treatments are offered by

The Young Surgery.


n.b. Should there be a warning triangle here too, Men at Work? I was intrigued by the idea of feminine rejuvenation; could I have a treatment if I start losing touch with any of that aspect of my being that has aged unduly?


CLP 14th October, 2020

Come Away, Now!

The brothers shouting

At each other in the street

Steaming drunk

One boiling, spoiling to fight

Pour it all out

Break it all down

Smash it up


The elder pulls him away

Looks for another bar

They can stop at for another drink

To slow things down. Stop. Think.


CLP 07/10/2020

On the Street xii

Smiles become tight lips

Breaths held, sentences halted

Nothing to hear here


n.b. At first I thought this phenomena may be an unsociable characteristic of city life, but realised it is a new courtesy amongst the unmasked, a show of respect for passing fellow pedestrians with white hair; not breathing out, postponing the moment of exhalation until some random old boy has safely passed by.