Go, please, just go

Stick with it…get to the end.

Waiting, like a man at the gallows

I wait and wait, and watch your desperate dance

The chance to leave this place I seek

But this is not my choice, but yours

And time ticks slow as cold seeps in

My coat pulled tight ‘gainst coming night

That perfect refuge still evades

And so you lead me to the dark

On and on, beyond the vale

of day and dusk and all that’s bright

A merry dance, and I must give

My all to follow where I’m sought

I try to fight against the pull

Insisting our time has run out

And beg, please free me from this duty

As slumber calls me slowly home

Just over here, you beckon me

As helpless I can not refuse

This is my lot, my place to be

I beg my dog, please do your poos

AB

Out in the van – Rivelin Valley, Sheffield

Rivelin Valley, Sheffield. Water, water everywhere

Where: Rivelin Valley, Sheffield, South Yorkshire, England

When: 24th January 2022

Why: Used to live there a lifetime ago, and Mrs Afterwards often reminisces how she took her old dog Chester there to play in the river…

With: Me, Mrs Afterwards and the dog, Theo

Its only about 40 miles and around an hour from halifax, so off we went. The weather was decent enough, grey and calm, and not cold at all – which is great for January.

The Rivelin Valley has a river that runs for miles, with decent paths around it to make it a pleasant and easy walk. The thing that makes it stand out though, is its history of water wheels and industry – all long gone now – dating back to 1581. There are loads of remnants of what was once a thriving area, and it’s amazing to think that for hundreds of years this was an area synonymous with the production of knives and forks that were shipped worldwide. Sheffield steel reached every corner of the globe for hundreds of years and remains a mark of quality to this day.

We all had a great time, especially Theo who got to jump into lakes, puddles, rivers, pools and bogs. So excited was he that I could be oft heard swearing at him as once again he nearly pulled my arm out of the socket as he lurched after one thing or another.

And to top it all off, at the end of what was nearly 2 hours of walking, was a great tuna melt and some rather good chips. Oh, and a Ribena. I think it tasted all the better for being hungry after the walk. Definitely worth the 4 or so hours door to door…

My Final Draft

Wordy words and waffl

If I could write your story would I change your final pages

Fix your broken heart and put together pieces that you hold

And would I right the wrongs you suffered with new chapters at my will

Tell your story as you dreamt it, as the sun sets growing old

Would I fill your days with laughter, love and care free evermore

With each line crafted for your pleasure and the joys of life unfold

Or cave to writers block that chokes and cruelly robs me of these words

And like embers once so bright now turned to ashes grey and cold

So dot the i’s and cross the t’s then put this pen of hope away

Or maybe leaves the pages blank, and let that story stay untold

For who am I to tell your story, it is yours alone to tell

So live, write it in your own words, I surely should not be so bold

Deepest Blue

My weekly dose of drivel

Alone she stands, a beacon, calling loud into the night

And to her warm embrace she beckons, drawing in with love and light,

Her warmth and tender words, they promise rest and fretless sleep

Through crashing waves, and razor rocks they flood into her keep

Her eyes as dark as deepest seas, upon which they once sailed

Her pallid skin, her blood red lips, the cross on which impailed

They pledge their love and service for the promise of life’s rest

And at last find solace in the embrace of her breast

Until the end of days, beneath the waves, they serve the throne

Lost to the world and those they left that toil the sun, alone

And in her wake they trail as slow she gathers for her store

Until their memories have faded, and at last they are no more

AB

Out in the van – Ogden Water

Ogden Water, Halifax.. Bright blue skies and blustery winds.

Where: Ogden Water, Halifax, West Yorkshire, England

When: 16th January 2022

Why: Took the dog for a walk there, but wanted to take a different path…

With: Just me and the dog, Theo

Ogden water is one of the local Reservoirs, and near to where the kids go to school and perfect for a lap with the dog. Usually I just have a leisurely stroll through the woods around the waters edge, and Theo gets rather excited at the ducks and gulls that wait to be fed by passers by.

Today though I went a different route and passing by Boggart wood and over the victorian promenade I carried out along a path I have see a few times before, but never taken.

Before I knew it my head was freezing cold (as I had neglected to bring a hat), and it was blowing a gale – but wow what a view! Looking back down the valley towards Halifax, everything glistened under the crisp blue skies and the moors stretched invitingly before us as the golfers battled the winds some way below.

The dog had a fantastic time as he darted from bog to bog, the wind seeming to excite him terribly. I only wish I had allowed more time because I think I could have made a full day of it! I certainly will next time…

My wellbeing journey – The tree is no more…

And that brings that to an end…

About a year ago I decided to leave my Xmas tree up and decorate it with other things throughout the year and that I would only take it down when the world got back to normal.

The tree is down, but I realise that this is not the normal we left behind…

I just felt the tree thing had ran its course and it was time to move onto something else. A few folk have already remarked that they miss seeing the tree, and it is a little bare in here, but I am deciding still on what to do next. Watch this space I guess.

It certainly proved a talking point on the millions of zoom calls I had to endure the last year, and it was fun coming up with new ideas so yes, I will miss it.

God I should have left it up shouldn’t I…hmmm

Oh well…onwards and upwards!

If you’re curious, these are the trees:

Valentines Tree

Easter Tree

Star Wars Tree

Celebration tree

Summer tree

Halloween

50th tree

Xmas tree

Time

My weekly dose of drivel

She slips her hand, soft, into his and tender does suggest

that had she known him years ago then all would now be best

Sweet promises that seek to mend the things that cause such rot

With shallow smile he nods, and lies, for he believes her not

Like knotted roots, the tangled web of thoughts run deep and wide

And in the dark he chooses what she seeks to coldly hide

For these things make us who we are, and stoic he persists

Lives the ruin he will not give up, that blinds like winter’s mists

Out in the van – Emley Moor Mast

Emley Moor Transmitter, Huddersfield. My what a big one you have…

Where: Emley Moor Broadcast Mast. Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, England

When: Monday 10th January 2022

Why: Because I can see it from my house and wanted to see it

With: Just me and the dog, Theo

I can see the old transmitter tower when I walk the dog, which is next to the red lights you see in the picture below. From a distance it has a fabulous Mordor/Lord of the rings vibe to it…

Pre digital, this is where we received out TV signals from and it was once the 6th highest structure in the world. Ive never ben so today me and the dog got in the van and drove out. It is only about 30 minutes drive through Brighouse and over to Huddersfield.

Mostly its a whopping great tower. Big. Really big. You can pull over in a layby and have a peek but you cant get that close (though one day a year you can apparently go up it) and once you’ve appreciated the general bigness you;re kind of done really.

Did I mention it’s big?

We had some hot chocolate and a few ginger biscuits and looked for a nice walk, but despite how out of the way it is up there the walk options are limited so we had a bit of a ramble, a few more biscuits and then headed home.

It’s impressively big but a tad underwhelming as once you get there there’s not a great deal you can do. The views are pretty though. And it’s really big. If you like big stuff…

Waiting in the darkness…

“Prostitutes. That’s what I miss. Prostitutes.”

In response to M’s weekly story starter prompt of “It was all an illusion hidden by the lack of light.” I did this as a kind of stream of consciousness kind of thing. No planning, just waffle with no real purpose other than to get back to putting letters on the page after a while away. To be fair you can just about swap the word prostitute for any profession. Maybe clowns. Or accountant. Maybe not female jockeys or darts players. meh…

______________________

“Prostitutes. That’s what I miss. Prostitutes.”

“What? What are you talking about.” Came the reply. After a short pause the voice continued, heavy with the air of resignation and the agitated realisation that had he not replied, then he could have avoided the conversation all together. It was seemingly too late now though. “Why are you talking about prostitutes?”

“Well you asked what I miss the most, and having given it some thought I have decided that I miss prostitutes. More than anything.”

A long sigh punctured the silence that followed. There was a vague recollection of a question some when ago. Certainly not recently. Maybe a lifetime ago. Many lifetimes? It was very hard to tell really.

“Dare I ask why, ” the second voice asked, “in a world of infinite possibilities you have decided that the thing that you miss the most, is prostitutes.”

“So, are you asking?” Said the first voice, a measure of something nearing excitement in his tone. Perhaps it was the talk of prostitutes, of even just any talk at all, but after what seemed an awfully long time it felt good to get it off his chest.

“Fine, Yes, I’m asking. Why prostitutes? It’s not like we’re going anywhere is it,” said the second voice. “I shall indulge you this once but then it’s back to saying nothing. Understood?” A moment, or something akin to a moment. It may have been longer, passed before he continued. “And to be certain, you don’t miss your wife or children? Your parents? Maybe your dog? Did you have a dog?” He wondered whether he himself might have had a dog. He thought maybe he might have. He remembered throwing sticks. Or were they spears. Maybe both.” You are absolutely certain that here in this place, a forever away from anywhere, the single thing you miss above all else is a prostitute.”

“Well not just any prostitute.” Said the first voice, now fully engaged with the conversation and his mind firmly fixed on the idea of prostitutes. “A very specific prostitute. With a very specific set of skills.”

Fully expecting a question as to a description of the very specific set of skills the first voice waited until the second voice reluctantly relented.

“Skills?” he asked, his efforts to seem even slightly interested falling very short, but it was all encouragement the owner of the first voice required.

“Oh yes. She was very gifted. She spent time in Mesopotamia apparently, and you know what they say about those Mesopotamian girls.”

The second voice did not know what they said about Mesopotamian girls at all. Or in fact where Mesopotamia was. or is. Or will have been.

“Oh yes” he replied, obviously lying, “they say that …” his voice trailed away.

The first voice laughed loudly.

“You have no idea do you! You’ve never had a Mesopotamian girl have you!”

The second voice sighed again. This time a little louder. If it was possible to muster a passive aggressive sigh without being absolutely certain of the exact state of one’s nose, then this was a sterling effort.

“Oh they are the best. the very best! By far. I knew a trader who swore by the Greeks you know, and once met a Babylonian sailor who could often be found hanging out of the back of an Egyptian, but no, I told them both no, no way at all were they able to compare to the carnal delights of a Mesopotamian prostitute.”

A short time passed, and somewhere in the distance there was the sound of a siren. Or was it a horn. Probably a horn.

The owner of the second voice was trying to remember if he had a dog still, and was now certain that in fact there were spears and not sticks he had been throwing. A dangerous thing to mix up he thought to himself when you have a dog. If you have a dog.

He really wanted to remember.

“Are you listening?” asked the first voice. “Did you hear what I was saying. about the prostitutes?”

The horn sounded again.

“Did you hear that horn?” the second voice asked.

The first voice laughed loudly, his voice now full of memories and longings. “Ill tell you about a horn allright! There was this time in Meso…”

“Shut up!” said the second voice, “”Listen. there’s a horn. I think it might be time.”

“Time? Time for what? Prostitutes?” His laughter roared into the darkness.”

“No. Time. Time to go.”

“Go where?”

“Did you pay no attention at all when you got here. You don’t remember what they said?”

The first voice felt a suddenly ache in his back and reached for where, an eternity ago, he vaguely recalled a searing pain .

“Everything okay?” Said the second voice. “You remembering now are you? What they said? Where we are. Why you’re here.”

“Fucking prostitutes!” the first voice exclaimed violently, “fucking Mesopotamian prostitutes!”

“Aah so you do remember,” said the second voice. “All coming back to you is it. Well if that came as a shock you might want to prepare yourself because I don’t think this next bit is going to be pleasant at all…we are fucked though, if that’s any consolation”

Queen of the tides

Something a bit different today

She slips beneath the silver spray, and into Neptune’s cold embrace

A tidy pile left in the sand, and not a thing left out of place

The rancid rot of time, well hid, laid bare where lovers hands caress

And in the waves, they tumble, she succumbs to false confess

She counts the life she lived, the lovers lost, and feels the dark

Until his siren beckons, turn away, and to his call she harks

And setting sun lights up the crashing waves like fire’s embers

She looks, forlorn, as hand in hand he leads, but she remembers

But it’s too late, their vows are said, she reigns and rules alone

In inky depths, her seaweed crown on bleached white, flesh stripped bone

REBLOG: The Downsizing Plan — Today I Downsized This

The best way to achieve something difficult is to have a plan. Here’s mine. I read somewhere that allowing yourself six months to go through all your possessions is a reasonable timeframe. I read somewhere else a long time ago that breaking tidying jobs into either areas (pick up everything off the living room floor) […]

The Downsizing Plan — Today I Downsized This

Just head over and have a read. The diet trolls and snipers scuppered the previous blog, so a new one has taken it’s place. Always a fun read! Do it. trust me…