deep hibernation
breath freezes outside blanket
slow rhythmic breathing
wondering whether
cup of tea will make itself
stare into darkness
October 27, 2019
Waiting for spring
June 22, 2019
the surreal 2019 world of trefor davies
Hong Kong
Bangkok
London
Cardiff
Barcelona
Trafalgar Square
Brussels
Toulouse
Dublin
Manchester
Washington DC
Isle of Man
Reykjavik
Moscow
Brussels
St Lucia
2019 may represent peak surreality.
Anti Brexit demo London
Beyond The Woods Festival Horncastle
The Greenhouse
Mandarin Oriental Bangkok
The Trafalgar
The Conrad London
MO Hong Kong
Building new office at bottom of the garden
Currently drinking Laurent Perrier Grand Siecle at 40,000 feet
BA First Class flights
April 21, 2019
Easter Sunday musings
Listening to religious news programme on radio 4. It is Easter so everything is more intense. This is after the recent fire at Notre dame and now a terrorist attack on a church in Sri Lanka. There was also a piece on a monkey God called lord someone or other.
The intensity of the conversation seems to me to exacerbate the strangeness of the whole concept of religion, in particular the organised variety. I get people wanting to know how they got here but the structured way of worshipping a “god” seems very artificial.
April 12, 2019
A tired night of TV
A tired night of TV, staring
A theme, that keeps repeating
Nothing on, worth watching
Screen time too long, fatiguing.
March 16, 2019
wheaten void
We have no bread. The loaf has been consumed. The last slice was surgically removed this morning and toasted along with the crust. Its purpose was served. A short, fulfilled life devoted to keeping hunger at bay. Nourishment its finest purpose and measure of its success. Now gone it has left a void…
March 12, 2019
words spill slowly
Surrounded by books I drown in words.
I picture myself, alone, writing by the light of a single candle. Words spill slowly onto the page, my mind adjusting its flow to the tempo of the pen. These words seem more considered than anything that spits out at the speed of hands at a keyboard. Dancing fingers outpace thought.
Outside in the darkness a threatening wind beats invisible fists against the window. My candle flickers, a retreat into an obscure past. I am buried in the page, sucked in by words randomly thrown down. How they get there is my story.
One hundred books are removed. Ten million once read words unwanted. Ten million flourishes unemotionally scattered into the night. The candle dies but a new dawn arrives.
March 10, 2019
In the wind beaten garden
In the wind beaten garden, birds hide, branches fall and words scatter. Collars pulled tight on bent head daffodils.
Then the rain; incessant bird bath fill, deafening inside the conservatory.
Later skies lighten, snow is promised. Wind drops and peace descends.
March 8, 2019
Homeward bound I am
Homeward bound I am, fleeing city madness and the battle against the office worker tide
Homeward bound I am, to recover from an opulent week of self indulgent excess
Homeward bound I am, to a smile and a kiss and a nice cup of tea
Homeward bound I am,
Homeward bound I am.
March 1, 2019
clamour for glamour
the clamour for glamour, l’amour, more armour the full silk jacket
weaving taxi driver tipped, out of contract, vanished into thin Catalan air
departure lounging littered with the debris of prior passengers. bored cleaner picks one small piece of paper and selectively brushes floor.
front row easy jet living jet relaxed jet squeezed in jet cramped jet warm jet sufferajet
any cosmetics, perfumes cigarette jet
grey jacket plane full fluorescent green beats in daft ears
trying to make some sense of it all
February 2, 2019
The forager
“One who searches widely over an area in order to obtain something, especially food or provisions.”
This morning I went foraging.
The method:
Settle on a menu for tomorrow’s dinner. Check out what you have in the fridge/cupboard and make note of missing ingredients.
Express your intention is to forage for the requisite foodstuffs. Head to Waitrose with hessian bag.
Patrol aisles occasionally picking up produce and placing in bag. Fill bag.
Exchange money for goods and take home free coffee for life partner.
Footnote
This will typically work for any menu, exotica aside. The ingredients have to be available in quality supermarkets near you. There are alternative versions involving multiple sources and locations but I am not covering those scenarios in this post. Stick with mainstream cuisines and you will be safe.
Enjoy foraging…
2 slices of ham please
I was idly patrolling the aisles of Waitrose, as you do, when I strolled up to the deli counter. I had nothing in mind. I didn’t need anything. My bag was already full with the essential ingredients for tomorrow’s dinner and really it was now down to any impulse purchase I might make before leaving the store.
In front of me at the counter were a retired old couple staring at the various delicacies on offer and just as I arrived they said to each other. “We’ll go for that then”. The wife looked up at the woman behind the counter and said to her “two slices of ham please”.
Wow I thought. This a couple whose life is ordered. Two slices. One each. Will I be like that when I get to their age? I can’t imagine it but who knows? I am happy right now just catching the wave and ordering ham by the wodge (holds up finger and thumb).
January 29, 2019
Distant February
Distant February
Today is 29th January. February remains distant, a thought that with hindsight will seem misplaced.
I lie in bed not listening to the wireless. Filtering the noise. Relegating news to the background.
Occasionally Anne mentions something she has heard and I temporarily remove the filter.
Second cup of tea appears.
January 28, 2019
May you rot in hell
May you rot in hell
Fuck you bastards
Constant media coverage gets tedious
I need to immerse myself in something that is nothing to do with brexshit
January 27, 2019
Classic Sunday afternoon in January
Classic Sunday afternoon in January. The wind is howling out there and it will soon be dark accompanied by plummeting temperatures. When I was a kid this would have meant watching a cowboy movie on the TV or perhaps playing a game of Monopoly with my sisters. Just trying to survive Sunday afternoon until the week reset itself and Monday came again.
To some extent very little has changed even though the choice of entertainment has increased massively. It doesn’t feel right sitting in front of the TV all afternoon though. Most of it is rubbish anyway. My alternative is to sit at the table the conservatory looking out at the weather and write.
It will gradually get darker and at some point I will decide I need to turn on the wall lights, dim as they are. The day will have morphed into night. Life will change. Life takes on a different complexion at night in winter. Cosier. As long as you are indoors and warm and the curtains are drawn.
Watching the TV in the evening seems more acceptable.
I’m glad I’m not a plant.