GLASTO HERE WE COME

down we will head to the somerset levels
to join the thronging masses
among the green fields of avalon
there we will breathe in the country air
pitch our tent
swap our sandals for wellies
and do a hopeful sun dance
the woodle will enjoy circuses and puppet shows
musical legends n luminaries from across the planet
will join together in entertaining the crowds
as they cavort and dance midsummer jigs
a splendid time is guaranteed for all
and maybe henry the horse will even dance the waltz...
i'm just going out
and may be some time
so no blog for a while...

POSTSCRIPT: FLYSHEET BY NIGHT

resilience
that's the germans for you
the show goes on
even when they have limited talent
and lack form
they hang on in there
dig deep
and time and time again
pull something out of the bag
look at em now
in the final of the euros
a competition that the english failed even to qualify for
(those with an aversion to footy please forgive me)...
goodbye marianne
track three on leonard's greatest hits
which our johnny g gave dad for father's day
the very next day i have an interview at bham uni
and a few hours later rick calls
one of the teachers
due to leave at the end of the week
has done her back in
could i passably step in to the breech?
the teacher's name?
you already guessed it
goodbye marianne
hello fireseed
working under his alias
posing as an english language teacher...
tonight the real fireseed out in the back garden
messing about among the flowerbeds in the gathering gloom
he move snails out of harm's way
he juggle flysheets n tentpoles
he slowly work out how to erect our glasto tent
uh oh!
the colour coding seems to have gone awry
our prospective camper faffs around
threading n unthreading poles through the wrong hoops
he flails around with the flysheet
is it inside-out or outside-in?
this thing's massive
(the tent that is)
he keeps tripping over drooping flowers
or knocking their heads off
finally fireseed run out of daylight and space
but not resilience
and resolves to try again out the front tomorrow evening
that should give the neighbours a good laugh...
fireseed pray for weekend sunshine!

LENNY

listening to leonard cohen's greatest hits
the early songs
beguiling acoustic arrangements
leonard's lilting fingerpicked nylon-strung guitar
the twinkling mandolins
the swinging accordians
the subtle flourishes of orchestration and hammond organ
his demure-voiced girl backing singers
somtimes a low-lying plodding bass
or a celtic fiddle
but always lenny's world-weary honey-sandpaper voice
painting vivid canvases full of mysterious imagery
suzanne the tempstress
beckoning to you
beside a river that flows ceaselessly onwards
the sisters of mercy
len's muses of the moonlit hours
the bittersweet departure of marianne
the bitter departure of another flame...
forty years on
and lenny's showing his resilience
still going strong at the age of 73
having weathered the odd storm or three along the way
all being well
we will get to see the man this weekend
when he takes the stage at glastonbury festival

RESILIENCE

i have noticed several important qualities
that seem to recur in our exploration of the art of living
creativity
compassion
tolerance
integrity
humility
qualities to which yours truly constantly aspires
but seldom attains
to this list of qualities i could add gazillions
but today's blog is about resilience
(could that be the worst rhyming couplet in blog history?)
ah resilience
when the going gets tough...
yes sirree
it's resilience that sorts the sheets from the ghosts
overcoming the put-downs
taking the knock-backs
ignoring the nay-sayers
growing a thick skin
bouncing back up again
when the easiest thing would be to stay down
not giving up at the first hurdle
refusing to throw in the towel
sniffing out those twin imposters
triumph and disaster
keeping focused on the positive
refusing to dwell on the negative
recognising opportunities
where others see only problems
keeping your sights fixed on the target
not allowing yourself to get distracted...
bad day at the office?
what about all the good days?
put it behind you
argument with the wife?
remember that first kiss?
you still love her don't you?
your daughter won't go to bed?
how cute did she look today in her little ballet costume?
you'll live...
so much of this is about mental self-preservation
there are slingfuls of painful arrows to avoid out there
nasty harpoons and flame-throwers too
mortars, shells and even nuclear warheads
some people seem to actively seek out
all the nasty depressing stuff
they watch it on tv
listen to it on the radio
rub their own noses in it in the snoozepapers
wonder why they feel depressed
then spread the germs by regaling everyone else with it
oh there are plenty of reasons not to get up in the morning
genocide in the congo
mendacity in the cabinet
salacious gossip in the tabloids
thuggery on the local streets
you gotta watch out for all this stuff
don't ignore it
but stay alert
don't let it drag you down
focus out the hate, the fear, the ignorance and the trivial
focus in on compassion, love, beauty and wonder...
our friend resilience
sometimes it's even embedded in the national psyche
(stiff upper lip, anyone?)
just look at the german football team
and their performances in the euros
not to mention so many other big tournaments
all the big guns have or had resilience - in spades
the gandhis, the jesuses n the buddhas
the dylans, the cohens n the kilbeys
the monbiots, the chomskys n the pilgers
the humble boys at media lens
the less well known activists n campaigners
who slog away day after day
trying to make a small but significant difference
building up the positive karma to a critical mass
toppling the dominoes in the right direction
let's be like them
let's emulate them
let's follow them
and we'll get there in the end

MEDITATION

a damp blustery morning
weather for woodlice and snails
redeemed at least by occasional bursts of bright sunshine
unlike yesterday's dogged drizzle
the solstice
what an anti-climax
pity the poor druids at stonehenge
by ten o'clock
the night had settled in damp and unprepossessing
just like my mood
vague plans for an all-night picnic up on a local hilltop
come to nought
only a hot tofu curry briefly fires my jaded metabolism...
sunday morning
i surprise myself by rising at seven
and breezing through my yoga routine
that's five days in a row
the best i've managed for a while
everyone should do yoga first thing in the morning
before they start worrying about the daily grind
or turn on the today programme
or whatever they listen to
there should be a communal yoga hall
in every neighbourhood
beginning the day with some yoga poses
is like a tradesman
calibrating his instrument before starting work
or a cyclist
oiling his gears and tightening his brakes
a realignment of the body's muscles n sinews
clearing the mind of its incessant noise
more yoga
fewer health problems
more positive karma
less angst
more purposefulness
less aggression
more speed
less haste
or is it the other way round?
as well as the yoga
i've been trying a little meditation
another brilliant eastern invention
that could revolutionise western society
if only people would try
you may remember my new year's revolution
to be happy
well i can't say i've entirely succeeded
but i have started to dabble in my own way
and the effects are encouraging
the interesting thing about meditation is
you don't have to sit in a silent room
in the lotus position
heaven forbid!
i can't ever imagine getting anywhere near the lp
even if i practised every day for a hundred years
and silence is a rare commodity
amidst the roaring bleeping turbo-charged noughties
my provisional concept of meditation is
any attempt to control one's thoughts
to reign in the constant internal dialogue
to resist the primeval emotions
to withdraw slightly from the mental melee
and reflect on one's thought processes
matthieu ricard provides a good analogy:
an old man watches children at play
for the children
their games take on a life n death importance
for the old man
the children's concerns
are like passing clouds in the sky
the key element of mediation and happiness
is compassion
concern for the welfare of others
rather than the self
easier said than done for a typical westerner
who has been socially encouraged
to assume that a lifetime's pursuit
of his own self-centred concerns and desires
is exactly what he should aspire to
"suck-cess"...
my experience over the last few months is
that if i am feeling worried or anxious
more than likely
it's because i'm dwelling
on my own petty desires, dislikes and delusions
a chained victim of my own blessed ego-a-go-go
my mistake is in failing to contemplate
how does he or she feel?
what does that creature feel?
how can i help to relieve
that person or sentient being from its suffering?
for suffering is the one constant in the universe
and therefore the ultimate goal must be
to reduce suffering rather than adding to it
the challenge is
to constantly keep these thoughts uppermost
instead of reverting back to the old habits
and that's where the meditation comes in
it can be just a few seconds
it can be on the bus
in the street
on the loo
it can be as simple as checking a momentary surge of anger
stopping
focusing the mind
and letting it melt away
like a ripple across a pond
no lotus position
no silent darkened room
no excuses

GENESIS

ah the creative process
so elusive
so mysterious
so unpredictable
today i was reading the sleeve notes
to leonard cohen's greatest hits
lenny's tantalizingly opaque snapshots
of how his songs came into being
a song started in some canadian hotel room one year
and finished in another pad in nyc a year later
how on earth did that happen?
the funny thing is
i know exactly what len is talking about
the muse suddenly comes
and just as quickly she departs
and ya never know when she'll be back
hammering on yer door
with her persistent little fist
of course
sometimes i can see pretty clearly
where an idea or lyric has sprung from
take a song like corporatocra$y
or flat-earther
written under the influence of tranches of radical politics
other times i'll hear a musical arrangement
and pick up a feel
that sparks off a whole song
even though the eventual product is pretty unrecognisable
for example years ago
i saw a film with sean penn n susan sarandon
called dead man walking
which had an evocative acoustic guitar soundtrack
when the movie was over
i picked up an acoustic guitar
and straight off wrote 'feels like summer' off mustard seed
now i can't tell ya what the precise link was
hopefully i didn't completely rip off dmw
but ya get the idea
last sunday i was in leamington for the peace festival
i'm walking along the parade
enjoying the atmosphere and regency architexture
when suddenly a kind of arpeggioed progression
floats into my mind out of nowhere
it merges with a song i started writing back in the winter
in the absence of my dictaphone
i am paranoid about forgetting musical ideas
so i keep singing this progression through in my head
jamming on it again n again
till it's indelibly printed on my mind
i even work out in my head what the notes n chords are
well then one thing leads to another
and as i walk back to the station after the festival
a catchy chorus melody insinuates its way into my consciousness
a few days later i'm walking to work
bikeless cos my key had snapped off inside the lock
when a middle eight for the same song
suddenly announces itself
the interesting question is
if i hadn't gone to leamington that day
or had to walk to work that morning
would these creative ideas ever have emerged?
or would they have lain dormant forever?
if i were still in sk
what would i have written since last summer?
i know i can sometimes make things happen deliberately
by virtue of perspiration
by applying myself
by sitting down with the aim of writing something
by jamming
by putting pen to paper
by blogging
but as for the muse
her name is...
ruby tuesday

RELAPSE

since tuesday
fireseed back at the electronic chalkface
reverting to type
shirt ironed
steel toecaps in cupboard
what can i say?
bham uni made me an offer i couldn't refuse
a man can't survive on good intentions alone
it's a radical departure in a way
the studes are almost all arab
mostly saudi
a sprinkling of libyans
the odd jordanian
an infeasibly sweet iraqi lady
and a single earnest south korean gentleman
with a sing-song voice
the whole gig couldn't really be better
the students are nice
the staff are friendly folk
there's a cosy feel to the place
the director even wrote a welcome message
on the staffroom whiteboard
the place manages to balance laidback & professional
the hours are so civilized
forget the anti-social slog of life in sk
my 'commute' a five-minute pedal ride
through quiet leafy campus backwater
past the bbc's 'doctors' filmset
(hey - one day ya might just see me ride by!)
seems like fireseed fallen on his feet again
come up smelling of roses
and yet...

HOUSE OF GHOSTS

smallwood manor
victorian country pile turned english prep school
beneath the dutch gable end and twin cupolas
carved for posterity into a cornerstone
the name of robert w eadis fsa
architect 1886
plunderer of eclectic motifs
from farflung eras and locations
a roman mosaic tiled porch
fluted wooden doric columns
high plaster ceilings
sash windows
egg and dart mouldings
wood panelled walls
this place has the lot
honour rolls line the dining room walls
school captains now turned middle aged
1966 j s pratt
1967 h j bowles
where are you now?
at dinner i am introduced to neil
almost immediately i recognise him
from a tv programme i watched as a kid called '7 up'
which revisited the lives of a bunch of english children
every seven years
to see how their childhood class backgrounds
influenced their adult lives
'give me a child till he is seven...'
neil's poignant story was the one that most affected me
between the second and third programmes
this serious thoughtful grammar school boy
has a nervous breakdown and becomes homeless...
along the corridors hang old school photographs
dating back to the fifties
long rows of earnest faces
captured for a moment
before their lives, like neil's
rolled inevitably onwards
i am suddenly back again at the old grey school
among the old photographs that used to fascinate me
the expressions
the hairstyles
the fashions
gradually changing with the times
the hair getting longer and more unruly
the sideburns appearing
the jacket lapels and ties widening
the hemlines rising then falling again...
labyrinthine corridors wind slowly up to our accommodations
past a notice board:
'due to a family bereavement
mr miller will not be able to take golf today or monday'
the ex-boarders' rooms are still furnished with their small beds
fire escape hatches and ladders built into the floor
heaven help us should there be one!
after dinner we play rounders out on the lawn
after a few duff swings at the blue foam ball
i suddenly hit a once-in-a-lifetime rounder
never before seen and never to be repeated
which soars out of the field like a botham six
and over a thick azalea hedge where it lodges
no amount of searching will locate the ball
and we have to stop play and go inside
back to the old grey school
where i dreamed and wished my precious childhood hours away
where i had my first crush
on a young welsh maths teacher called mrs rees
or 'slr' as she was called on the timetable
a pretty young woman who i constantly exasperated
by labelling the base of my triangles 'bass'
now we are all back in room 7 at king edward's five ways
form 3s ('chippy' spencer, the woodwork teacher's class)
edward passalacqua
gavin rebello
paul elkington
ian mack
and co.
benedict mccarthy
later a bbc news reporter who covers 9/11 from nyc
is leading a synchronised class hum
which slowly builds to a loud buzzing crescendo
cruelly burying the voice of an increasingly desperate mrs r
who is powerless to deal with 30 stroppy adolescent boys...
an hour later
there is a loud cheer
neil has found the ball in the hedge after a long twilit search
persistence pays off!
that night
i disappointingly meet no more ghosts among the corridors
instead i sleep and dream
until early the next morning
when i am awoken by the noisy jackdaws
bouncing around in the broad branches of the cedars...

SELF-RIGHTEOUS QUICKIE

good afternoon my dear bloglets
today
under the frown of a steely grey sky
i am on my travels yet again
this time steering a course
for sleepy smallwood manor
which slumbers in the backwoods of uttoxeter
near but far
from the maddening crowds of alton towers
while human beings across the world
persist in shooting pieces out of each other
and destroying the environment that sustains them
i have the privilege of enjoying a couple of knights
at this rural retreat
with likeminded individuals from the wdm
there
we will share our ideas
about how to change the world for the better
about how to map out
a more equitable and sustainable course...
the answer my friend is blowing in the wind
the answer is blowing in the wind

LETHARGY

lethargy
the enemy of action
close friend of apathy
eating away at dynamic impulse
like a cancer
stealing momentum
like a thief
from where does it ooze
this psychosoma
that feeds on negative thoughts
that preys on doubt and indecision
how to break free of its steely grasp?
some possible ways and means:
wake early and do some yoga
(i turned off the alarm clock and rolled over)
meet up with a good friend
(great to see ya carol after all these years!)
get out there and meet some new people
(last night i catch the end of a local talk
on climate change )
retire to the bedroom with your loved one
(how about it mrs fireseed?)
do something creative
(write a blogge
grab a guitar or paintbrush)
turn the intellectual wheels
(read a good book - try some chris goodall)
recite the mantra:
'lethargy will fail
energy will prevail!'

AFTERMATH

the two-day heatwave is gone
today stiff breezes
overcast skies
occasional drizzle
fleeting shadows
passing time
time to fix a lunch i haven't earned
and can't be bothered with
after another mourning of underachievement
spent messing about
doing and putting off dull chores
out of sorts
out of thoughts
blurry head
stiff shoulders
sicky stomach
sticky mouse
tired
distracted
confused
unenthused
stressed n distressed
morose thoughts playing/preying on my mind
cash-flow problems
arguments with loved ones
30th birthday blues
so much unresolved
more questions than answers
hardly any answers at all in fact
where do i go from here?
is it down to the lake i fear?
should i settle for this
or should i try that?
am i just wasting my time?
the stall at the festival
was at the disappointing end of the hope spectrum
a roundly humdrum debut i would say
on the plus side:
got out there for the first time
broke the ice
met the pub lick
overcame the stage fright
did some useful networking
had a few folks i know drop by
got some positive feedback about the banner n stall
had a few tricky questions that put me on my mettle
got a few useful leads
generally elicited a little bit of vague interest...
on the minus side:
made minimal impact on most people
came away without a single customer
departed with the overall sense
that people are happy to receive free advice
but pretty reluctant to pay for it
(big surprise!)...
is that kind of venue a good way of getting business?
probably not
would a trade fair be better?
maybe
what's the next step?
some shaky conclusions:
set up a professional-looking website
keep genning up on all matters sustainable
get some good suppliers on board...
but this afternoon
i will visit h's school for a parent-governor meet
then fly into town
to hook up with carol
who i haven't seen since...when?
our wedding in 1999!?

SANDCASTLES

on the beach
in pembrokeshire
at barafundle bay
as the sun finally disperses the stubborn clouds
an interesting metaphor occurs to me
hannah and daddy-oh are building a sandcastle
or to be more precise
daddy is building a sandcastle
while hannah potters around in her swimsuit
mixing sand and seawater in a bucket
and referring to it by some weird name she made up
that i can't recall
'daddy, do you want some (sheed)?'
anyway
daddy is slaving away trying to build this thing
an impregnable mound
surrounded by a fortified moat
with a small bridge
crossing a long curvy channel
that leads out towards the sea
what hannah doesn't know
as she watches n potters
is that daddy is making it up as he goes along
starting with a rough idea
and a raw material
and constrained by the limits of that material
adding to it
shaping it
developing the idea
into something beautiful but functional
daddy comes up against a few problems of course
he finds that the sand he has used is too dry
so the mound keeps collapsing
he must replenish the water evaporated by the sun
one of his tools breaks
and he has to refashion it
but in a way the most interesting bit is the scraping
scraping the bottom of the moat to add depth and level it
because no matter how much sand he removes
a bit always falls back in
and no matter how hard he tries
he can never get it quite level
so he has to compromise his perfectionist tendencies
and make do with the messy moat
of course his feeble canute-like attempts at permanence
are destined to ultimate failure
for the tide will eventually overwhelm his little edifice
just as the castles we saw at carreg cennan and drysfywn
were eventually breached
and now lie in ruins...
a couple of days later
at broadhaven beach
hannah and i try again
this time we have more elaborate and ambitious plans
creating a long anaconada-like channel
which squirms down to a pool by the shore
but for all the bowing and scraping
our efforts to mould the environment
to tame the awesome power of the sea
are destined only to be washed away

WESTWARD HO! HO! HO!

how remiss of me
not to mention that i would be incognito
abroad again
even before i got to tell ya all about my happy hols
so here i am back in the beautiful wilds of cymru
nestled in a green valley cloaked in mist
which lifts from time to time
to reveal a dark hulking mountain
bathed in evening sunlight
this week i am not on my hols
but here to look, listen and learn
the centre for alternative technology
known as cat
is a visionary place
set up by a bunch of crazy idealists in the early 70s
in the wake of the first energy crisis
30-odd years on those nutcases are being proved right
but still only a minority are listening
for this visit
eco refurbishment is the name of the game
the art of turning a draughty victorian terrace
heating the street instead of its occupants
into a warm comfortable well-insulated home
powered by renewable energy
at least that's the dream
hmmmm...
as usual
the reality turns out to be
a lot more messy and difficult than i expected
its a cliche of course
but the more i learn
the more i realise there is to learn
a little knowledge is a useful/dangerous thing
(please delete as appropriate)
a renewable energy consultant also called dave
leads us around the various energy installations on site
wow! does this young cat know his stuff!
he gives us the lowdown on evacuated tubes
selective surfaces
woodpellet hoppers
twin-coil cylinders
drainback versus fully-filled
efficiency isn't what you have
it's about what you need and how you use it
listening to dave talk
i start to get that same feeling
as when i watch a virtuoso guitar player
effortlessly tossing off a lightening lick or solo
that feeling of wonderment
at how a fellow human being
born with the same raw materials
could ever achieve such mastery, skill and dexterity
it's enough to make me want to give up and go home!
the key of course is to mind the ego
not to drown in inferiority
but to cherish his skill
because what is good for him is good for the rest of us
and the knowledge he has can be passed on
learnt and applied by others
that's civilization i guess...
tomorrow i head homewards
to reunite with my dear ones
and to prepare for the closing weekend of the climatefest
wish me luck amigos
adios!

HEADS AND TALES

another day in the square
i ring the changes
move the banner
reorganise the display
relax
sit down on my fishing stool
pick up a copy of chris goodall
and wait patiently
it's even quieter than yesterday
and even the freebie stalls don't get very busy
early on i get very few bites
except for a bit of bovver
three rough-looking lads
who look like they haven't been home last night
one with a boxer's eye and a gash on his cheek
they want some of my still unopened organic wine
boxer guy don't wanna take no for an answer
this i hadn't bargained for
there i was imagining the middle class punter
or at least the respectable law-abiding one
but this is birmingham city centre
not earl's court exhibition centre
i stand my ground and manage to get rid of em
as the day wears on
slowly i grow in confidence
my patter becomes a bit more fluent and convincing
i'm more relaxed
i weather the lunchtime drizzle
get a couple of interesting leads
receive a lot fewer climate quiz prize draw entries
and hand out a lot more business fliers
gradually i'm putting my new business head on
in place of the old eco-warrior one
at four o'clock
to my horror and amazement
boxer and his mates are back
indignant as i hand out glasses of vino
to a couple of genuine customers
luckily for me security is standing right behind em!