Tag Archives: Suffolk

Back to the Myddle: Day Seven of an Ancestral Adventure

Back to the Myddle: Day Seven of an Ancestral Adventure Shropshire. Suffolk. Shropshire. Suffolk. Where? Just where exactly do I come from? I was born in Shropshire. I live in Suffolk. And, in between times, I’ve lived just about everywhere else in the UK. Rootless. Rootless and a long way from home. A long wayContinue reading “Back to the Myddle: Day Seven of an Ancestral Adventure”

Back to the Myddle: Day Six of an Ancestral Adventure

Day 6? There is a Day 6, but I’m spending most of it back in my usual haunt in Suffolk, propped up on my bed (with a beautiful view from my window),  recovering from yesterday’s eight-hour trip back from the Myddle; and, courtesy of my laptop, incommunicado with the love of my life  – Ancestry.com! I do love Ancestry.com, and theContinue reading “Back to the Myddle: Day Six of an Ancestral Adventure”

Back to the Myddle: Day Five and a Half of an Ancestral Adventure

    Back to the Myddle: Day Five and a Half of an Ancestral Adventure Roots. Take root or take a risk and brave the traffic for the inevitable four-hour route back to Suffolk? As I leave Myddle, I realise that my roots are elasticated, and they won’t give enough to allow me to hurtle away unhindered. Old Beezlebub gallops aheadContinue reading “Back to the Myddle: Day Five and a Half of an Ancestral Adventure”

Who are the ‘Bus Wankers’?

A collection of poems about the author’s bus travels, dedicated to the inspirational lads (clearly avid fans of the In-Betweeners) who drive past her bus stop every day, shouting ‘Bus Wankers!’ The ‘Bus Wanker’ poetry collections represents a plea to all councillors, across the UK, looking to save money by demolishing our much-loved bus stations. Instead, councillors should beContinue reading “Who are the ‘Bus Wankers’?”

Exhumed

  Knackered, exhumed, drawn-out, mesmerised … H & M tempts, siphoning up the remnants of me through a straw hat, bidding me with flesh-striped leggings, to sport my way over, fly over the stationary traffic, to zone out the time-wasters, to make mockery of the drivers queuing for home.   I take off …   upContinue reading “Exhumed”

Choice

Early, I shuffle into the soul- less bus-stop gathering, and am held upright and inanimate by buggies, walking sticks and re-usable bags made fat with High Street consumables, as I make my choice – Number 48 or Number 548? Twenty minutes or forty? Costa coffee won’t wait for a 48. Hudson’s rosé can make itContinue reading “Choice”

‘Bus Wanker!’

Car slows, clatters on by, caterpillar pace, clash of context. “Bus Wanker!” shouts a spot, a spot in a passenger seat, a spot, that spreads outwards until it merges at one – with other spots. A carful of pink youths, blurred, hazy … Making a smudge in my notebook of poems. Copyright owned by JayContinue reading “‘Bus Wanker!’”

Bus Games

Silk-black skin and long neck. Graceful, she glances away, longs for another place, beyond the burning red-hot glass of a red bus, double-deckered, on a roasted trip with a man, unshaven and unpruned, pale and raw, who mutters to her out-turned cheek, as if she can hear his stabbing red-hot words, his obscenities his tauntsContinue reading “Bus Games”

Fag-Stop Killer

Bus stop pick up? Driver-change? Brake? Stop. Break. Driver desperate, desires to kill – ten minutes, just ten minutes of our time. Spluttering stop; bus cranks out in lullaby lay-by. Engine gasps, grumbles, grizzles, groans; passengers fidget and fudge – ferocious and desperate to kill. Driver’s all chewed-up, choking, croaking – “Just ten minutes!” HoldingContinue reading “Fag-Stop Killer”

Refuel

Cumin, chilli, coriander, turmeric – combined, create turmoil in my head … Confused, dizzy and disorientated, I resist further intoxication, hold my breath, ignore the rumbling pleas from the labyrinth within and stumble onwards to Head Street to the 754, that waits patiently for today’s meal, an undernourished battery hen, past its best, unable toContinue reading “Refuel”