Happiness

  Happiness –  the substance of my life. The hapless old friend who comments on my blog posts, thoughtfully emailing me my response options, which include: cider, ha ha, and thanks! The app I’m told to install for discounts on Indian takeaways from Aysha; The tacking pins embedded in the paint-stained carpet of my creative…

Guest Preacher

{Based on a childhood memory of an over-zealous guest preacher in an Aberdonian chapel, and further inspired by George Herbert’s poem ‘The Collar’. } ‘Angry Debate’, a clipart image from Pixabay.com He strikes the board. Preacher’s passion’s way. Heed his words, that God does say. Wrinkled hands must dig in deep, unearth the worms from burrows,…

Botanist Approaching Fifty

‘Flowers in Hartlepool’ by Jay Cool Do a project, the teacher said. You can choose the title. Spend some time, just with your friend, reading books and writing. We collected books, ’bout every flower, copied, coloured, outlined them. About each flower, I remember nothing – no name, no colour, no hue. But, if I could,…

Being Irish

Haggis? Pukka Pie? The connection? chriÜö&§._*stian.ude@wenh??§ÄZb.de   In the world of Jay Cool, all is connected. If like I, Jay Cool, your genetic material was handed down to future generations via a sperm and an egg that got together in a cave in Nescliffe, Myddle, courtesy of your Great-Something-Grandfather, Humphrey Kynaston, you will understand my meaning….

Preserve

  glass impenetrable   where is the odour   coming from?     a toe nail flickers   the liquid yellows   and thickens     can I break the crystal box?   your toes cry out   untouched, unloved     your sweet smell   grows foul   with decay     Copyright owned…

City Playground

  Face squeezed between tall rails   My spirit vaporising out through the gap   The concrete contains me.     Copyright owned by Jay Cool  

Dog Dumps & Bog Bullies

Aberdeen, Grampian Region, 1979 A cold-hearted beast of a dog. A mind-numbingly tedious day of imprisonment in a Scottish primary school. A day of fear. My nine-year old self was completely stressed out, having survived that day’s English versus Scottish playground fight with just a few scratches. And I was in desperate need of some respite. I plunged through the door of Number…

To Everywhere – Aberdeen, 1978

Aberdeen, Grampian Region, 1978   Cat Litter   A terrace of dark, dull and dank grey-granite eyesores. Duthie Terrace. Cold, wet and dreary. Aberdeen. Our new home. “Turn back!” “What?” “Turn back!” screeched my mum. “Turn the car around right now! We’re going right back where we came from!” Amused, I watched as my dad’s face turned…

Sacred Carpet

  Colneis Junior School, Felixstowe, 1977-78   “Mrs Smith?” I called out timidly. It had taken many long minutes, before I’d ventured to put my hand up in the first place. Because, there I was, in the first year of Junior School, sitting on a this-is-new-and-sacred-common-room carpet, surrounded. Surrounded by seven-year old somethings blasting out…