Posts
…….an exploration of personal stories, philosophical musings, and spiritual practices that emerge from failing and beginning again.
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Building models
Until I was nine, I shared a room with my older brother. He was into building model aircraft, which were suspended from the roof by cotton: Spitfires, Stukas, commercial jets and more. It was natural for me to want to build models too. At Elston’s – the local toy store – there was a wall…
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Everyone Knows
Everyone knows there’s a problem But how in the hell did it happen? Democracy’s wheel is starting to squeal Under the weight of the ambition Everyone knows Everyone knows, of the madman But, the will of the crowd has spoken The word of the chief, Is hard to believe Maybe the job is out of his…
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The Waterloo Hotel
In another ode to the Duke’s of Wellington, another pub in Crowthorne was called the Waterloo hotel. The hotel, even though called the Waterloo, was colloquially known as ‘the penguin’ as in: “I’m going down the penguin’. Memory serves a reminder that there were penguins kept in a pool on the property. These I would suggest were captive Fairy…
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Demon in the street
I was woken by a demon in the street. At first I thought it must be inside me, streaming a school of guttural language, Undefined. A fist grabbed my heart. Fight or flight in action. Could have been anything. Then in my waking, I thought, Is this inside of me or out? Before I rationalised…
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The teapot incident
As with most people, awareness of the world was limited until maybe the age of 18 months (friends tell me that I was unusual in this and they don’t have any memories before age 3). Already I was showing signs of adventurousness and ambition. An early target for this was a teapot left on the stove…
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City hums
Rivers of cars hiss on wet roads A jet scratches its way overhead, Leaving a wake of engine noise. A tram rattles and glides away into white noise of suburbs. Beyond washes of traffic, The city hums. An undercurrent Like standing beneath power pylons. It hums. Its heart is a beating nightclub Streets are arteries.…
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The Iron Duke
Wellington Road Crowthorne is a street named in honour of the 1st Duke of Wellington- Arthur Wellesley, the victor at the Battle of Waterloo, where Napoleon Boneparte was defeated in battle before being exiled to the isle of St.Helena . Wellesley’s imprint was spread across the town of Crowthorne, from Wellington Road to Waterloo Road and…
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A promise to marry
Having experienced the hardships of World War 2, psychological hangovers were still being dealt with by Peter (who turned out to be my father). He joined the navy at 16 in 1937. Basic training turned out to be more about the skills of seamanship than the reality of war. Sometimes, after a beer too many…