Tuesday, 28 July 2009
A Morning in the life...
Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my....oh dear I have mixed up my life with that of ex-Beatle, Paul McCartney and in doing so quoted a Day in The Life from Sgt Pepper. Oh well.
It all started like this...
I had missed the train from Langley Mill so got the tram from Phoenix Park to Nottingham.
Why was I strangely worried and over anxious? Well it was a perfect sunny July morning and got to watch the impenetrable girl who smiled, charmed, flirted but never actually sat next to me.
I was on the tram by accident; fault of my Mum who, despite getting up at 4:30am waits until 6:00am to start getting ready. She needs to be at work at half 6, I need to be at the train station 4 miles away, for 6.36am. Normally we end up speeding to the station but this time I just exhaled, 'nah forget it.'
Now i'm not talking to myself here, or my Souther drawled American chauffeur. I'm on about my Dad, my honest, do-anything-for-anyone Pater. I'd be lost without him. He did say though, in a rather stressed and strained voice, "we need to get you a car" as we drove to Phoenix Park.
....
Just looked out of the train window, another pulled up besdie us at Beeston Station. "Bloody hell" I thought, "what an old piece of shit that is" as I peered up across the windows. It was then that I realised I was looking at the reflection of our train.
....
To my left a lovely selection of barges, boats, burny grasses and a few dappledown garages. Chocolate box.
To my right the large and looming dominants of the East Midlands horizon: Radcliffe on Soar Power Station.
Tool box.
....
Walking up Syston's section of Melton Rd, I can't help but feel a bit lonely. It's a busy road at 8:17am but there's little folk about.
I wait outside the Alliance and Leicester where the bank's cleaner arrives on time in her new Seat (I've waited here a few times!) She really can't properly and this is annoying (my Dad deems it a weakness if someone can't park properly), she arrives at an angle, with her front left tyre gently kissing then falling flat on the face of the kerb.
Then this battered old L plate blue Transit van pulls out. The side door is clumsily painted with a white gloss, then this Hyacinth Bucket character gets out. Love it!
....
The bus has stopped - I honestly don't know why it doesn't come a little later. The bus comes from Leicester into the burbs and there's never any serious traffic. We wait at different stops along the way.
....
Passing by a nursery for trees, then a nursery for children called 'The Laurels,' we make the slow rise from East Goscote into Rearsby. Freshly cut grass smell in the air, followed closely by the high pitched screetch of the bus's breaks as the driver misjudges a Ford Mondeo's speed at the island.
It all started like this...
I had missed the train from Langley Mill so got the tram from Phoenix Park to Nottingham.
Why was I strangely worried and over anxious? Well it was a perfect sunny July morning and got to watch the impenetrable girl who smiled, charmed, flirted but never actually sat next to me.
I was on the tram by accident; fault of my Mum who, despite getting up at 4:30am waits until 6:00am to start getting ready. She needs to be at work at half 6, I need to be at the train station 4 miles away, for 6.36am. Normally we end up speeding to the station but this time I just exhaled, 'nah forget it.'
Now i'm not talking to myself here, or my Souther drawled American chauffeur. I'm on about my Dad, my honest, do-anything-for-anyone Pater. I'd be lost without him. He did say though, in a rather stressed and strained voice, "we need to get you a car" as we drove to Phoenix Park.
....
Just looked out of the train window, another pulled up besdie us at Beeston Station. "Bloody hell" I thought, "what an old piece of shit that is" as I peered up across the windows. It was then that I realised I was looking at the reflection of our train.
....
To my left a lovely selection of barges, boats, burny grasses and a few dappledown garages. Chocolate box.
To my right the large and looming dominants of the East Midlands horizon: Radcliffe on Soar Power Station.
Tool box.
....
Walking up Syston's section of Melton Rd, I can't help but feel a bit lonely. It's a busy road at 8:17am but there's little folk about.
I wait outside the Alliance and Leicester where the bank's cleaner arrives on time in her new Seat (I've waited here a few times!) She really can't properly and this is annoying (my Dad deems it a weakness if someone can't park properly), she arrives at an angle, with her front left tyre gently kissing then falling flat on the face of the kerb.
Then this battered old L plate blue Transit van pulls out. The side door is clumsily painted with a white gloss, then this Hyacinth Bucket character gets out. Love it!
....
The bus has stopped - I honestly don't know why it doesn't come a little later. The bus comes from Leicester into the burbs and there's never any serious traffic. We wait at different stops along the way.
....
Passing by a nursery for trees, then a nursery for children called 'The Laurels,' we make the slow rise from East Goscote into Rearsby. Freshly cut grass smell in the air, followed closely by the high pitched screetch of the bus's breaks as the driver misjudges a Ford Mondeo's speed at the island.
Monday, 20 July 2009
Monday, 13 July 2009
A Bangladeshi Story
On this train
Passing through perfect houses
with brightly coloured well kept gardens,
I think back in the not-to-distant past
On the road to Mongla, at the side of the river
waiting for a bridge to be fixed.
The ramshackle shops selling all sorts
cigarettes to sweets to car batteries.
7Up, biscuits and ripe brinjal.
I head someone speak
they motioned for us to sit down.
We ate and drank.
Despite the dirt and lack of social convention I was accustomed to;
there was a surprising degree of normality and order.
Children swam down stream,
and women wash clothes in the dirty water,
followed by their bodies in the thick grey mud.
Passing through perfect houses
with brightly coloured well kept gardens,
I think back in the not-to-distant past
On the road to Mongla, at the side of the river
waiting for a bridge to be fixed.
The ramshackle shops selling all sorts
cigarettes to sweets to car batteries.
7Up, biscuits and ripe brinjal.
I head someone speak
they motioned for us to sit down.
We ate and drank.
Despite the dirt and lack of social convention I was accustomed to;
there was a surprising degree of normality and order.
Children swam down stream,
and women wash clothes in the dirty water,
followed by their bodies in the thick grey mud.
The Train Frustration Blues
a wee ditty I composed a while back when annoyed at a train conductor:
I was feelin tired and kinda red
Yesterday's Sun had burnt my head,
I just pulled myself out of bed,
to get the Mornin train
it's Monday again!
Oh dear.
Running up those high steep steps
The last few I strided and lept
onto the platform,
hoping for a train on time
I was late - train was later.
My usual fare, unusually low,
a one off, anomaly ticket.
They didn't sell it,
I couldn't have it.
Shit.
"In all my fifteen years..."
I shouted, then stopped,
falling back
don't get into trouble.
Marching up at Nottingham
I had a plan,
formed in rage,
and then, when played,
decided it was foolish.
Where was my Jeeves?
A petition!
A survey!
A mass stand-off,
strike of the like from miners,
not seen in Notts though.
Won't know what hit 'em.
I was feelin tired and kinda red
Yesterday's Sun had burnt my head,
I just pulled myself out of bed,
to get the Mornin train
it's Monday again!
Oh dear.
Running up those high steep steps
The last few I strided and lept
onto the platform,
hoping for a train on time
I was late - train was later.
My usual fare, unusually low,
a one off, anomaly ticket.
They didn't sell it,
I couldn't have it.
Shit.
"In all my fifteen years..."
I shouted, then stopped,
falling back
don't get into trouble.
Marching up at Nottingham
I had a plan,
formed in rage,
and then, when played,
decided it was foolish.
Where was my Jeeves?
A petition!
A survey!
A mass stand-off,
strike of the like from miners,
not seen in Notts though.
Won't know what hit 'em.
It's all part of your freaky dream!
Last night I had a freaky dream!
I was in a car in London somewhere with my Dad, then a police car started chasing someone near us, they went behind a building so we followed them. Then I decided that I needed to visit some people. I went into a white house that had this old rickety staircase in it. I climbed it and opened a red creaking door. There was a small gap between the door and the floor. A thin gentleman with short grey hair and beard to match was wearing a cheesecloth red shirt and some sort of fur jacket. "Come in" he said. So I did. I hopped over the gap and was given a cup of tea. Green tea was in the air and people were painting pictures and talking about philosophy, which I greatly enjoyed.
Some girls started talking to me, then I went into a room which was really a cupboard. When I came out we were in a sort of function room which I later found out was in Donington. There were many dishes to try and some rather interesting folk too. As we drove away I remember saying "well they are going to have to buck their ideas up if they want to host the Grand Prix next year!"
I was in a car in London somewhere with my Dad, then a police car started chasing someone near us, they went behind a building so we followed them. Then I decided that I needed to visit some people. I went into a white house that had this old rickety staircase in it. I climbed it and opened a red creaking door. There was a small gap between the door and the floor. A thin gentleman with short grey hair and beard to match was wearing a cheesecloth red shirt and some sort of fur jacket. "Come in" he said. So I did. I hopped over the gap and was given a cup of tea. Green tea was in the air and people were painting pictures and talking about philosophy, which I greatly enjoyed.
Some girls started talking to me, then I went into a room which was really a cupboard. When I came out we were in a sort of function room which I later found out was in Donington. There were many dishes to try and some rather interesting folk too. As we drove away I remember saying "well they are going to have to buck their ideas up if they want to host the Grand Prix next year!"
Thursday, 9 July 2009
So far so much!
Yes, all right, I know it's been a while, but I still think about the blog at least. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't done much work on our work blog either!
It's been a frantic few weeks indeed, as that is set to follow. In no particular order over the next few weeks I have a trip to Leeds, 3 days in Lincoln including a school trip to an outdoor centre, 2 days in London, a summer fayre, a few goes on the radio, a meeting in Crich, a birthday party, a christening, a few BBQs, relatives from overseas visiting and then a weekend in Blackpool.
Some of the things I am really looking forward to, other not so much, the rest I just think why the hell did I say 'yes' to that?
Sunday I went to John Mayall, a blues singer and band leader from the 1960s. Mayall, a white blues man and very good at that, had 12 differently noted harmonicas in a wooden rack on the stage, and his band were a right motley crew of all walks of life. His bassist did some of the weirdest solos I've ever seen.
I will link to a video for you to see a typical performance of his. He recently performed with B B King...surely enough to convince you?
---
On the train this morning I spotted a chap in his about-40s, with looks akin to a weasel and a tax collector. Some may say the two are synonymous with each other! I wouldn't want to get in his bad books. There was a woman singing on there too, just between Nottingham and East Midlands Parkway, but still caused a few disturbances and laughs, may I add, to an otherwise boring and uneventful journey.
Falling asleep on the bus to Rearsby, I was woken up by a young lad with obvious behavioural problems shouting in my ear 'hey there my duck' he obviously meant 'ey up mi duck.' He then kicked the back of my chair. God I was child brutality was legal some mornings!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
