Author: bristol2brighton

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Grass – Part 2

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Those days were hot, endless, full of orange squash and jam sandwiches and fun. The morning I wrote this piece it followed a bright full moon and a heavy frost. On numerous occasions over the years I have watched the white-tipped blades of grass turn into lawns of dew and damp rotting dark brown oak leaves. When I walked across the grass earlier this morning, after the freezing air had caught my breath, the grass crisped beneath my feet. I looked back and saw my size nine prints in the frost chasing me. This was all far removed from those … Continue reading Grass – Part 2

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Grass – Part 1

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I have been thinking about grass (not that type – the stuff you mow when it gets too long). Not only about its colour, its smell, its feel, and how it evokes memories of carefree days when life was about playing in the back garden or out over the fields behind the house, but also about how it survives. It is one of natures survivors. Those halcyon memories of worry free days are even more poignant now that a key figure in my life and those memories, is no longer here and hasn’t been for a few years now. I … Continue reading Grass – Part 1

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Please, Mr Banksy

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Paint me another red balloon please, Mr Banksy paint it with a longer string and tie it around my wrist so that it won’t escape from my little fingers and float into the sky to become a tiny dot that disappears forever; and please Mr Banksy don’t paint the wind, let it be still so that my hair doesn’t cover my eyes and my dress doesn’t flap around my knees and if the string becomes undone my new balloon won’t blow away. Continue reading Please, Mr Banksy

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If I Were A Tree

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If I Were A Tree where would I spread my roots? where would I spend my seasons? where would my leaves shoot? In that field over there you know, the sloping one that the boy lays down in on summer days when the sun goes in and out, in and out and he makes creatures out of the clouds and sees crocodiles and dogs and wizards with pointy hats that turn into  into wisps of cotton wool nothingness. Yes, that is the field the one you can see from your bedroom window the field that slopes down to the stream, … Continue reading If I Were A Tree

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The Cobb Wall at Lyme Regis

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Another salty jaw rises, the gaping mouth widening as it arcs towards the ancient wall of Portland stone that snakes its way eastwards, a tumble of black granite boulders extending its protective reach. The jaw crashes down smashing onto the top of the sloping wall white teeth breaking onto centuries old rock that will not yield or sate the appetite of the ocean’s wild and relentless cavernous mouths that collapse into hissing torrents of saline saliva rolling back into the swelling anger readying itself to attack again and again. Continue reading The Cobb Wall at Lyme Regis

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International Women’s Day – Part 3

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If there is one woman in my life who should be celebrated it is the one who has always been there for me; through thick and thin, good times and bad, happy times and sad. The woman who has loved me unconditionally my entire life. The one who took me to the school gates on day one of my educational journey, rubbed TCP on a grazed knee or two, looked after me when my appendix grumbled, and comforted me when I first encountered death – I still remember that cat fondly. This woman encouraged my reading and a general joy … Continue reading International Women’s Day – Part 3

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The White Bridge

bristol2brighton

A swerving ribbon of tarmac leads down to your humped back that stretches over a river hidden by the spring flood of mud-brown water spilled by broken banks. The river’s banks host summer picnickers each side of your ancient arch, children paddle in the upstream shallows, and skim flat stones beneath you that bounce out the other side. Nearby cows graze undisturbed while others lap at a stony shore. In the autumnal after-storm sun your white railings gleam. Visitors return, once again standing on your back watching the fast flowing river journey under your aged stonework, heading  towards the unseen … Continue reading The White Bridge

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International Women’s Day – Part 2

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I have worked with many women over time some of which, as well as colleagues, became friends. Some of these were managers, most were fellow team members. But two in particular I remember and see as women of inspiration – but in very different ways to each other. And these two people of inspirational are to be included in this second part of my International Women’s Day celebration post. The first female colleague that was truly inspirational to me was in actual fact my first woman line manager. This woman interviewed me for a role that was to be a … Continue reading International Women’s Day – Part 2

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The Midnight Drive

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Being blinded by the early evening sun, I drove into the hospital grounds, searching for a space, any space in which to squeeze my car; this seemed such a long time ago as I stood in the dark, with space all around and only one vehicle to be seen – which was mine. I had entered the hospital grounds in sunlight but left under emptying clouds; I did not want to leave my son back there, struggling to survive, fighting for air. Go home the nurses said, go to bed, get some rest, come back fresh in the morning. Where … Continue reading The Midnight Drive