TODAY'S SPECIAL

machynlleth high street
as opposed to low street
(there are only two streets)
in the wholefood café
today’s special
tomato and mushroom pasta bake
couscous with black olives and tomatoes
sweet beetroot salad
crispy green n purple lettuce
peanuts n celery n soyannaise
mmmmmmm...a riot of colours n flavours
vegans
what the hell do they eat?!
this is a place where people have something to say
the notice board is overflowing
yoga
aromatherapy
courses at cat
et al
there's a national cycleway map up on the wall
families with children
enjoying each other’s company
not shrieking or swearing at each other
or telling the kids that they are naughty or stupid
but smiles n laughter
a friendly at-most-fear
my kind of people
a blonde lady arrives at the table next to me
pushing along a chubby little toddler in a buggy
a chap stands up and gives her a hug
long time no c
the little girl in the pushchair
has blonde curls and gorgeous blue eyes
she looks just like her mum
but she's shy and won’t look at mum's friend
she catches my eye instead
i smile and give her a wink
cute little kids like this one
always remind me of hannah these days
especially when i’m away from home
the blonde lady and pal chat away in welsh
as i munch on my lunch
the voices and intonation sound oddly like English
there is little of the expected lilt
it is just the words that are different
among the stream of welsh
i half-overhear that the lady's daughter’s name is hannah too
then the little blonde girl and mum leave
and i feel a pang of sadness
that i will never see this beautiful child again
as an excuse to hang around the caf
i self-indulge
spicy lemon cake
washed down with coffee
fairly traded of course
i am keeping the place in business today
the welsh friend drops his computer disc under my feet
i stoop down and hand it back
a smile
thanks
no worries
i pull out carbon detox
george marshall’s exciting new book
that i was lapping up on the train
while the stunning views of welsh valleys tried to compete
the book is out tomorrow
but I picked up a copy
at the roadblock conference
after i'd sold the other nine
meanwhile
the welsh guy has gone
and the blonde lady has come back
unfortunately minus beautiful daughter
are you enjoying the book?
she asks suddenly
yeah great!
i know george
she says
he’s a friend of ours
wow really!
i tell her i ended up selling some copies on saturday
along with george monbiot’s
oh - george is my husband
she says casually
bloody hell!
i don’t say
what a coincidence
we introduce ourselves
the welsh chap is called ‘ale-ear’
at least that’s what it sounds like
george’s wife is called angharad
and seems a lot younger than george
but lovely and genuine
we sit and chat awhile
till abruptly they lapse into welsh again
to talk about a mutual friend
and i respectfully withdraw to my book
but i am not reading
just pondering over the strange reality
of meeting not one
but three monbiots in one day!

KETCHUP

muse: it's been a while, my seedish boy
so what you been up to lately?
f-seed: oh nothing special
just the usual saving the planet type stuff
muse: and how did putting back the clocks go?
f-seed: made me realise how many damn time pieces we got in this place
but enjoyed the extra hour of kip this morning
muse: lazy git!
tell me about the sky
f-seed: amazing skies tonight
billowing azure clouds lined with gold at sunset
then fleeting silver across a bright moon
giving the stars the illusion of comets
a mysterious magical sky
muse: cool!
so pleased to be reconnected to the big www at long last?
f-seed: yep - what luxury
but i'll miss those trips to the public library
and the strictly disciplined thirty-minute blogging slots
watched over by those hawkish lady librarians
muse: you can say that again
so how's the little fireseed?
f-seed: funnier and funnier every day
but i'm getting a bit worried about that brummie accident of hers
it's got worse over the half-term break
to the point where she's starting to sound
like eddy grundy off the archers!
muse: oo...er...
so what was it like meeting your hero george monbiot yesterday?
f-seed: a real thrill
george is a true in-spear-ation
but what struck me most
apart from his obvious passion
was his humility and courteousness
not a hint of any big shot oxbridge-educated author-journalist pose
muse: sure am glad george didn't disappoint
so what's on the fireseed agenda for this week?
f-seed: got some pretty exciting stuff lined up actually
off to the wilds of wales on the morrow
to gen up on eco-design at CAT
muse: out in the wilds, eh?
so may not be able to post for a while?
f-seed: i'll do me level best, muse
don't want ya to get lonely!
now go out and take a look at that sky
before it clouds over

ROADBLOCK

up on the downs
gears crunch and engines whir
the mechanical beasts do their worst
cutting an angry swathe
through the exposed earth
belching diesel
drowning out birdsong
weaving their caterpillar tyre tracks
over an ugly new landscape of rutted clay
pallid concrete pillars stand witness
awkward lonely and disembodied
among messy piles of gravel
waiting for their burden
as the moon comes up
the little yellow men in hardhats
climb into their trucks
and rumble slowly homewards down the approach road
meanwhile
far away
to the east and to the south
on another side of the world
a scorching sun rises over the parched earth
there are no mechanical beasts here
only ones that were once flesh and blood
now reduced to skeletons
picked clean among the thin yellow grass of the plains
mourned by thirsty tearful children with huge empty bellies
many thousands of miles north
a frozen landscape creaks
tiny cracks appear
foul-smelling gases leak out
steamy clouds form in the clear air
the little yellow men in hard hats return
to drip a treacly trail of asphalt across the violated landscape
soon they will be done
and the economists will conduct further cost-benefit analyses
according to the new official vampire methodology
written in blood
accountants will move their figures from column to column
councillors and politicians will shift the pieces on their chessboard
showroom owners will rub their hands with glee
motorists will pat the keys in their pockets
a child in ethiopiia will breathe its last breath
another crack will open up silently in the arctic permafrost
not in my back yard
but in his back yard
in her back yard
in everybody's bloody back yard
an injury to one
is an injury to all
we are not nay sayers
but ye sayers
respectful of sound science
contemptuous of those who know the cost of everything
and the value of nothing
so i say tell me
if not now then when?
if not here then where?
if not us then who?

EDGE

i know a lot of sensible people
i come across them all the time
they are in fact ten a penny
they are prudent
they show caution
they play safe
they pay their insurance
they seek assurance
they want reassurance
they crave security
and condemn themselves
to a life of stultification
played out in denial
of the cold harsh reality
of the way the world is
terrified of danger
they evade risk
they are all flight and no fight
they reject the knife-edge
they are resigned to crawling along
in terror of what may lie yonder
outside the warm comfort zone
beyond the realms of possibility
afraid to push the envelope
or the boat out
they turn away from the glowing ember
that smoulders
in the twinkling twilight of the imagination
oh my seeds
let us cast off these chains
let us have the courage
to live life on the edge
as the orientals say
better to live one day as a tiger
than a thousand days as a sheep

ARTERIAL

there's hardly a single place i know
and it fills my heart with grief and woe
for i can't find brummagem

william dobbs, 1825

we drop down out of sight
down to the water's edge
where the cold black inpenetrable water sits
snake oil patterns swirling on its surface
many a secret does it hide
way down in its depths
as we walk
the gravel crunches under our feet
and the damp morning chill makes us shiver
toadstools and fungi
exalt among the damp foliage
the breeze dislodges rusty leaves
one by one
silently they fall
to float on the canal
or to collect in crunchy piles
to my surprise
this hidden artery is a hive of activity
panting cyclists and runners breeze past
pressing us into ragged single file
on the opposite side of the water
at the bottom of a private garden
two empty chairs and a table
await their next view of the sunset
uncollected conkers litter the far bank
out of the reach of greedy schoolchildren
meanwhile hannah preoccupies herself with a pretty snail
attached to a broad green leaf
she is a little upset that she can't take it home
but cheers up
when she gets to put it to bed on a grassy verge
now the canal converges with the railway
fluorescent yellow workmen grumble and goad
huge victorian brick arches restrain a high bank
beside the two parallel tunnels
a red and green barge with a complaining engine
passes smoothly by
hannah gives the owner one of her cheery waves
as the boat slides nonchalantly into the tunnel's jaws
96 metres long
says the sign
our voices echo as we stamp through
mind your head, hannah
says funny uncle john
and everyone laughs
(hannah is three foot nothing!)
it is a relief to see daylight again
when we are disgorged from the other end
the landscape slowly becomes more urban
residential gardens give way
to tall sharp-angled buildings that climb skywards
at holliday wharf
canada geese couples court
under the watchful eye of steel cranes
then exotic golden figures catch our eyes
half woman half swan
peering out at us through a set of doors
a lunchtime special at kinaree is too inviting to refuse
i discover that the waitress and chef are from hat yai
on the thai-malaysia border
where i spent a half-remembered night way back in 1991
later we will continue on through gas street basin
through centenary and chamberlain squares
to the museum and art gallery
but for now
filling our hungry bellies is our only thought

BEAUTY FULL

did you look?
did you notice?
did you see?
the beauty in every single thing
in the extremes of garbage and flowers
in the sorrow and joy
in the mayhem and tranquility
did you look?
did you notice?
did you see?

NEAR-DEAF EXPERIENCE #3

hi to dave m
wot no blog?

this is a close one!
i am on my way home
from purchasing my new steel toecaps
and some cut-price ales
from a little off-licence run by an indian family
i climb on my mean machine
next to the busy dual-carriageway
and freewheel across to the central reservation
i look left and see a couple of cars approaching fast
shall i go?
nah! i'm gonna have to defer to the deaf machines
i stop a second or two and wait
when suddenly three machines flash-roar across my consciousness
from right to left
and i realise that i'm actually standing in the middle
of a kind of triple-carriageway
scary images flood my mind
of a cyclist being tossed into the air
like a stray bull runner at pamplona
one day my absent-mindedness
gonna get me in real trouble...

i am hanging out the washing the other day
like the reconstructed modern male that i occasionally am
and it suddenly hits me
the idea not the car
the solution to so many of our problemos
it's very simple
we just ban all private death machines from the roads
we only allow essential service vehicles
emergency services and stuff like that
public transport
and busyness vehicles like delivery vans
at a stroke
we give a massive boost to public transport and cycling
and we make the roads safer and quieter
among the problemos this would obviously solve
obesity
people get more exercise
noise and air pollution
for obvious reasons
community breakdown
people are forced to meet n greet n actually talk to each other
supermarkets
death to those soulless sheds
that bleed the colour and life out of our communities
jeremy clarkson
go and get yerself a grown-up job
so tell me
how long we gonna put up with the miserable status quo?
where our neighbourhoods are racetracks
with a bunch of houses in the middle
where the only shops are charity shops on short-term leases
or supermarkets
where it ain't safe for our children to be children
where nobody talks to each other
where modern life is a bit rubbish

MY BRAND NEW WATERPROOF STEEL TOECAP BOOTS

my brand new waterproof steel toecap boots
not the title of a long-lost dylan song
but a purchase from ryder's army surplus emporium
on harborne lane
these sturdy leather friends
though sadly not entirely vegan
are warm, comfortable and snug
and will prevent a stray crowbar
from piercing a meta-tarsel
whether by accident or design
these boots even go a little way
towards dispelling fireseed's avowed disapproval for retail therapy
symbolising as they do
the abrupt transition of your fave blogger
from sedentary skinny-necked pencil-pusher
gazing sadly at the commuter traffic
through the fogged windows of the 271 bus
enveloped in a stultifying mid-life crisis
to calloused-handed outdoor action man
relishing the wind in his face and the sweat on his brow
as he leans into a sharp turn
as he watches not the changing lights but the changing skies
digs the earth
plants his fire seeds
saws his wood
rebuilds his life
and builds an exciting new future

NATURAL COLLAGE

JOURNEY #2

it isn't the destination that matters
it's the journey
not the station platform that's important
but the view through the window
not the finding out
but the seeking
not the job
but the hunt
not the kill
but the prey
not the consummation
but the wooing
not the product
but the process
the ultimate journey is life
the ultimate destination is death
not knowing is forgiveable
but not trying to find out
now that's a crime

MEMBER

morning bloglets
just been talking with my member
(that's member of parliament, by the way)
an unassuming chap called richard burden
he's new labour
which means he must be very confused
as we all are of course
i mean
it must be extremely difficult
to represent a political party
whose name pertains to represent the working class
but whose words and actions largely represent big business
remember the words of gandhi
the world of richard burden can hardly be harmonious
anyway
we talked
we took part in a constructive dialogue
that's what democracy is
as opposed to corporatocra$y
which is merely hugely wealthy mega-corporations
paying unfortunate schmucks to lobby on their behalf
or mega-media corporations
paying household name journalists
like paxman (yuk!)
gavin esler (somebody fetch the sick bucket!)
andrew marr
john humphrys
etceterah
etceterah
to give us a 'balanced and impartial' view of the world
ha! ha! ha!
so richard and i spent fifteen minutes of our saturday morning
talking about the draft climate bill
which is about to go through parliament
i started off with some shameless flattery
how delighted i am to see a draft bill come to fruition
then i played the david cameron personal card
the one with the 4-year-old daughter on it
who is growing up in a world
where economic growth trumps natural capital
to an astonishing and appalling degree
we chewed the fat about target-setting
and nibbled on a main course of airport expansion
richard found himself defending the undefendable
and not surprisingly
didn't come off too well
i probably didn't change his mind
but i made him think
which was my aim after all
so my seeds
if you have children
or even if you merely plan to have them
(and i would haile selassie recommend it)
put down your mp3
and go and have a chat to your mp!

JOURNEY

flicking through the gears
i fly down rue saint denis
lean into the sharp right curve that propels me into swarthmore
and accelerate past the primary school
out into this crisp october morning
sunlight sparkles on wet grass
cold air rushes through my wispy still-wet mane
another right and i am flying down abdon avenue
leaving sluggish cars trailing in my wake

i attack the pavement
and use the lights to negotiate the traffic-laden bristol road

the one that peters out by the great pit in the ground

that used to be longbridge car factory
death of the car - ha!
a tenuous cycle path slithers through wet leaves
then tails off mysteriously by the police station
and suddenly it's a free-for-all
pedestrians, cyclists and cars competing for right of way
disorder under the steely gaze of the law
a sharp left transports me a hundred years back in time
a dark narrow track
past simple workmen's cottages
one draped with an ugly pug-faced flag of st george
suddenly i emerge into charfield road
out again into the blazing autumn morning
to where i saw a flock of canada geese
descend on the suburban front gardens
a couple of saturdays ago
now i hang a right into bournville lane
cutting across a pavement to cheat the traffic
i try to maintain my momentum
as i climb the hill through mr cadbury's estate
standing up like a kid to get more leverage on the pedals
i swear under my breath
as i'm forced to move down into first gear
for the remaining uphill slog
breathlessly into mary vale road
and i am passing squat tudor almhouses built in 1897
an organic butcher and a deli speak volumes
whoosh!!!
dropping down again out of bournville into stirchley
no organic delis there
moving at a rate of knots now
i do a decoy run
almost heading into an industrial estate
just behind the pershore road
then at the last minute
i give my pursuers the slip
nipping down the rea river path
and sneaking through into the fordrough
as i crawl up the steep slope
i imagine the carthorses ambling down to the river for watering
while those 1897 almshouses were raising their mock half-timbers to the sky
from the top of this tricep-testing slope
there is a wide panorama of south birmingham
the chocolate factory and victorian church steeples
punctuating the skyline
but i have no time to stop and admire the view this morning
pedalling furiously onwards
i skate along vicarage road
past the old school my dad attended in the forties
with grandad pittaway
and pinky and perky
king's heath park whirs by in a bluuurrrrr
finally
a few minutes after ten
i swing into the not very regal high street
more paupers than royalty
and scan the passing buildings for the narrow shop frontage
the one i can never find among the bustle of the street
through which i will disappear for the next four hours
then i do a double-take...
the metal shutters are down
the place is closed!

AUTUMN SKIES

morning glory


on the way home from collecting conkers


foodie heaven

BRUMMIE ACCIDENT - QUOTATION

oh dear!
fireseed concerned to report
that it has taken little hannah e
only three weeks to acquire
some distinctive features
of the dreaded brummie accent
or 'accident' as h insightfully calls it
'why've you got all those apples n oranges?'
she intones
peering curiously at our latest box delivery
of organic fruit and veg
the worrying sign is the tell-tale upward climb in intonation
on the word 'oranges'
which has a certain stomach-churning feel to it
don't worry, seeds
we'll be taking her to see the doctor about it tomorrow...

fireseed always on the lookout
for good quotes
meaningful mottos
and insightful creeds
so how about these words of wisdom from mahatma?
'happiness is
when what you think
what you say
and what you do
are in harmony'

EDUCATION - WHAT FOR?

dear teacher
i am a survivor of a concentration camp
my eyes saw what no human being should witness
gas chambers built by learned engineers
children poisoned by educated physicians
infants killed by trained nurses
women and babies burnt by high school and college graduates
so i am suspicious of education
my request is this
help your pupils become human
so that your efforts never again produce
learned monsters
skilled psychopaths
educated eichmanns
reading, writing and arithmetic are important
only if they serve to make our children human