Diary of a Madman

Alarm went off at 5:30
Snoozed for twenty minutes or so . . . 
Fading dreams alternating with . . .  
Fuck! Shouldn’t have finished the wine!
M25 is going to be crap.

Stood under the shower until I could open my eyes
Made a cup of tea
Fed the cat
Ate a bowl of cereal
Listened to the news 
Air strikes over an already pulverised city
Somewhere comfortably far enough away
Not to care too much
Unfortunately there was some ‘collateral damage’…
But the pilots made it home safely.

Drove 40 miles to work 
The traffic was terrible
On the radio they said that the traffic was completely SOLID between junctions 11 and 14 on the M25
I should know, I was stuck in it.

During the morning I found it difficult to concentrate on the screen
At one moment I imagined my legs had become tentacles 
Snaking out along the floor, under the desks . . .

At lunchtime I had a couple of pints (4) with Joe from Accounts
Could hardly keep awake during the afternoon
At 3:30 I had a meeting with Baxter
He said I showed great promise. 

Drove home
The traffic was terrible
On the radio they played 'Road to Nowhere' by Talking Heads.

When I finally got home there was a pile of bills on the doormat.
Fed the cat
Sat on the balcony
Had a couple of cold beers.

My neighbours were having a row
Sounds like he’s having an affair.
Stuck a frozen pizza in the oven
Washed it down with half a bottle of Tesco’s Merlot
Watched an interesting documentary on the box,
But fell asleep half way through. 

Woke up at half past midnight
Had a quick swipe through Tinder
Finished the wine
Brushed my teeth
Had a pee
Set the alarm
Climbed into bed

Dreamt I was an octopus who had its own TV show
There was lots of laughter from the audience
Oh God! Surely that can’t be the alarm already!!!?

Whatever the question, Love is the answer...

Whatever the question — Love is the answer...

Earthling

I don't want to go to Mars
Don't want to go into 'space'
Where you have to wear space-suits
and drink your own pee.

I like it here on Earth
It has a great atmosphere 
With the vast blue ocean at my feet
And all these weird and wonderful creatures
Of which I'm one
An Earthling.

Them bones them bones them, dry bones...

photo by C Z

Inside the Capela dos Ossos (Bone Chapel)

This extraordinary building is situated in the courtyard at the rear of the Igreja do Carmo church in Faro Portugal. 

I'd heard about this chapel, but had previously seen no images, so it was a complete surprise to walk through the doors and enter this unique space.

It was made from the exhumed bones of long dead Carmelite monks who had once served the city. It was inaugurated in 1816.

It's made from the bones of over a thousand monks.

Parallel lines of red bricks and even spacing of the skulls forms a strong geometric design.

The chapel is entirely made from bones, skulls and mortar.

Even the arched ceiling...

Macabre on one level, but also fascinating and humbling. There seemed to be little need for the inscription over the entrance: Pára aqui a considerar que a este estado hás-de chegar, which translates as: 'Stop here and consider, that you will reach this state too.'

Welcome to Hiroshima!

Kind of not what I expected to find upon arrival in Hiroshima, and that does not infer that I was not welcome(d). Far from it. 

But the name Hiroshima carries such a weight of history that this very ordinary sightseeing guide didn't seem to fit in with my expectations. 

It immediately struck me as ironic, but that probably says more about me, and my cultural background than anything else. 

But of course things move on, Hiroshima today is just another Japanese city getting on with daily life, as indeed it was when the bomb was dropped. It cannot escape its history of course, but nor should it remain mothballed in post bomb apocalypse.

I was impressed and humbled by the way in which the atom bomb site was managed, and contrary to my jaded expectations, it was not over-run with hawkers trying to make a fast buck out of all the visitors. 
It was very calm, orderly and respectful. Very Japanese.  

Photo: Haruyo Yamashita

My wonderful hosts Yosuke and Haruyo.

Reading Lust

I've read Borges in Buenos Aires
Hemingway in Havana
Maya Angelou in a birdcage
And James Joyce in a Dublin pub

I've read Proust in Paris
Tremain on a train
Llosa in Lima
And Plath in the bath

I've read Defoe on a deserted island
Tolkien in The Eagle and Child
Brontë in a burning building
And Murakami at the bottom of a well

I've read Homer in Hydra
Kafka in a cockroach’s carapace
Marquez in solitude (it took ages)
And Halldór Laxness in a Reykjavik café

I’ve read J.G. Ballard sometime in the future
Kerouac on a Greyhound bus
Mary Shelley in a morgue lit by moonlight
And Calvino in a suit of armour in a hot air balloon

Dante’s Inferno on order… any suggestions?

Aromabet (a personal olfactory journey)

A — is for Amsterdam, Acetone, Autumn, the old Alvis car, and Amma (my Icelandic grandmother)

B — for Burnt-out fireworks, Baked potatoes on the ashes of the Bonfire, Bike shops, Bananas, Basil, and Bluebell woods

C — is for Cigars (preferably Cuban), Cinnamon, Coriander, Chestnuts on the brazier, China Town, Cupboards full of Clothes, and my grandparents’ Cowshed in Fáskrúðsfjörður

D — is Daffodils (that come but once a year), Dijon mustard, Denhay cheddar, the inside of the black writing Desk (sadly no longer accessible), and Dad’s old corduroy jacket

E — is for Earth, Eucalyptus, and Extinguished candles

F — for Flower shops, always such a pleasure

G — is for Gamasio (ground roasted sesame seeds), Geraniums, and Greta’s hair

H — is for Hops, Hay bales in the Hutchins’ barn, and the Honeysuckle in the graveyard in Wormingford

I — is for Incense, Ironing, Icelandic geothermal water, and the interior of my old blue VW

And J can only be for Jasmine

K — is for Kippers

L — for Latex, Linoleum, Lavender and my old petrol Lighter

M — is for Marjorie, Marzipan, Magazines, Mint, Marmite, Mothballs, the old Magic Lantern, and the Paris Metro

N — for Newsprint, and Nivea face cream (mum’s nightly application)

O — is for Oil paint, Old books, Oregano, and Orange blossom

P — is for Primroses, Patchouli, Pancakes, sweet Poplar trees, Peaches, and the Pantry at Papillon Road

Q — is for the Quintessential essence of freshly baked almond croissant (at a good French Patisserie)

R — for Rubber, Resin, Reblochon cheese, Rhubarb, and the summer Rain on warm dry dusty ground

S — for Shellac, Sweet Peas, Saffron, Strawberries, and the Sea

T — is for Thyme, Turpentine, Toast, and Toasted Teacakes

U — is for Ulli, who always smelt good

V — is for the green leather upholstery of the Vauxhall 101

W — for Woodsmoke at dusk, Wild garlic at the Mere in Wormingford, and Dad’s Workshop (an alphabet of smells in its own right)

X — is for xmas day lunch roasting in the oven at Trenowyth (circa 1964)

Y — is for anYthing I've forgotten

And Z is for the Zest of a Cretan orange.

With thanks to my nose – often (nay always) overlooked, but never taken for granted...