By Ray Wilson Stretching Eyes West “Stretching eyes westOver the seaWind foul or fairAlways stood sheProspect- impressed:Solely out thereDid her gaze restNever elsewhere,Seemed charm to be “ -The Riddle by Thomas Hardy And so at last we arrive in Lyme Bay on a blustery morning having parked the motorcycle combination up on the hill and walked
By Ray Wilson Changes “I still don’t know what I was waiting for. And my time was running wild. A million dead-end streets Every time I thought I’d got it made It seemed the taste was not so sweet.” David Bowie—Hunky Dory The telephone rings as I sing along, jolting me out of my reverie.
By Ray Wilson Golden Apples London, September 9 (Reuters) Britain recorded its hottest day of 2023 so far on Saturday, with provisional data showing a high of 33.2 degrees Celsius (91.8 degrees Fahrenheit) at London’s Kew Gardens. This year’s previous high was 32.6 C, reached on Thursday. “Happy Birthday, dad,” I say as I breeze
By Ray Wilson All Is One and One Is All I am stiffening my backbone; my mind is concentrated. It’s another early Saturday morning full of mist and mellow fruitfulness. I understand that by witnessing thoughts, feelings, and emotions without attachment or judgement, one can develop mindfulness and awareness, but I am struggling to focus
By Ray Wilson It’s August Bank Holiday Monday, and the sun is shining and the sky is a different shade of blue. We are heading off to the Ardenrun show ground for the annual agricultural show. The future, a world of 20-minute neighbourhoods and 15-minute cities, is being cooked up by a bunch of psychopathic
By Ray Wilson The day dawned fair with a hint of warmth, but with the ominous presence of black clouds clustering on the horizon, I had not slept the sleep of the righteous. Work hard and sleep sweet. A nagging, lingering concern that I could not attribute to anything kept me awake. I slowly recall
By Ray Wilson People Farm Some will attribute the maxim to Saint Ignatius Loyola himself. Yet the Jesuits believed even back then that it was an old idea: “Give us a child until he’s seven, and we’ll have him for life.” We lived on Brigstock Road in Thornton Heath until I was six, going on
By Ray Wilson It’s a sleepy Saturday morning in my dad’s little village. There is a frisson of warmth in the breeze. The soft rays of the sun gently illuminate Mum’s commemoration garden, constructed after her death in April 2020, enhancing its serene atmosphere. My hound’s ears twitch at the distant chirping of birds, which
By Ray Wilson The Ural Patrol T motorcycle, a copy of the legendary Cossack, demonstrates that war is a hellishly good driver of technology, or so the advertising blurb suggests. The Ural is a reconstructed Soviet World War II sidecar motorcycle that gives the same benefit as its forefathers: two-wheel drive. A crankshaft connects the
By Ray Wilson It’s still early; I am walking the dog; it’s the day of the carnival in my dad’s village; lawns are cut, gardens are manicured, and expectancy is in the air. I notice a small, slightly faded handwritten plaque with the words, “They wanted to keep my grandmother safe. I just wanted to