Husks

Husks

A gently-trembling hand

Reaches across the beer-ringed table

To grasp the glass half-empty

And drain it to its meagre dregs

Before slowly rolling out a cigarette

With the last of this week’s tobacco

A delicate thread of spittle traced along a line

To seal gossamer-thin white paper

Then tucking it behind the ear

For later consumption

On the way home

Through derelict streets

Deep-set wistful eyes

Survey the scene unchanging

Staring out through rheumy windows

Eking out an eternity of endless days

A waiting-room of dejected men

Rejected and pensioned into retirement

Who feel no ease or comfort

Nor expect any better prospects

Sitting wordless among the others

Staring across the musty bar-room

Where no-one talks today

Since there’s nothing much to say

Ground down by hopelessness

Arms rendered thin and scrawny

Through life-long labour

On shop-floors and in building-yards

Which sit now silent and abandoned

Worn thin by years of heavy toil

Sinew-stretched and weakened

Old muscles worn and wasted

Proud-standing veins show blue

Upon the wrinkled, liver-spotted skin

Of these exhausted men

Insides hollowed out

Husks of what used to be

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Comfort Zone

Comfort Zone

She always said there was a simple choice

To be made each and every morning

When waking out of easy sleep

Her heavy dreams untroubled

By any prickles of anxiety

To lie in tangled bedclothes

Lazy with the feeling that all is well

Comfortable with easy thoughts

About the well-worn path of the day ahead

Merely coasting

Through the normal routines

Along the daily groove of habit

And the same old, same old

But then she thought there was another way -

The stringent spirit of adventure

To step outside oneself

And take the plunge

Without anticipation

By diving into the hard, cold water

Of novelty, of originality

And face up to something scary

That uneasy feeling of standing near the edge

The fierce wind blasting from below

A rising vortex of danger

Nerves taut and jangling

With the sheer exhilaration

Of knowing that we’re really alive

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 10th June 2018

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 10^th June 2018

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:

1.   The D47 Wiltshire Economic Summit, held in a lay-by on A350, ended in disarray in the early hours of the morning when the Finance Directors of the participating boroughs failed to agree on the final communique to be issued to the assembled masses of the waiting local press from the Melksham Times and the Corsham Advertiser.  Several members wanted to say that they had almost agreed on a couple of issues, but several other members were more keen to point out that they had not been able to agree on some other issues.  The number of issues agreed/ not agreed was also in dispute, and no-one could agree what to do about it.

2.  Tradition returned to D-Town yesterday when the annual Pooping The Colours ceremony was held on The Green.  Owners of all sizes and breeds of dog were able to allow their pooches to publicly defecate on the freshly-mown grass, before the panel moved in to judge the results.  Marks were given for size, aroma, neatness of lay and, especially, for colour.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Masquerade

Masquerade

We may all be strangers here

But one can never know

The depths of dissimulation

A hint of assignation

The facial features behind the masks

The true expressions

The subtle nuance

The slight inflexions

Which may imply

A hidden meaning

To detect something real

Betrayed by flashing eyes

A curling of the lip

A movement of the mouth

Concealing private coldness

While expressing something warmer

In this all-too-public fancy dress

A costumed charade

A pretence of better feelings

But secrets held within

This phoney masquerade

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Elizabeth

Elizabeth

She walks and talks at the same time

usually muttering to herself

or shouting her opinions

at anyone who cares to listen

Her shambling gait

and aimless wandering

daily through the precinct

an habitual routine

a normal fixture

and commuter landmark

for regular travellers

Dirty and dishevelled

unkempt and unwashed

her florid face still lit with a smile

remnant of a faded beauty

Swaddled now in layers of clothing

thick coat and floppy hat

cardigans and jumpers

skirts and tights

gloved hands and fingers

gripping, grasping tightly

the string-crossed bags

which she carries with her

wherever she goes

She asks for nothing

demanding only time to listen

never seeking shelter

but slides off somewhere every night

living by her own her lights

by her logic and on her wits

A modern crazy lady

seemingly not unhappy

but sometimes over-loud

creating an awkward nuisance

which passers-by would ignore

if only she did not make them feel

so much more uncomfortable

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Lamb Shanks with minted gravy

Recipe for: LAMB SHANKS (with minted gravy)

Ingredients:

• 2-4 lamb shanks, trimmed (one per person)
• 2 tblsps flour for dusting/ coating
• 2 tblsps sunflower oil
• 1 carrot, peeled & very finely diced
• 1 onion, very finely diced
• 1 stick celery, washed, trimmed & very finely diced
• 2 tblsp thyme leaves
• 2 bay leaves
• 2 garlic cloves, finely chopped or crushed
• 1 tblsp tomato puree
• 500ml hot lamb stock (or veg stock with some lamb/ beef stock-cube)
• 4 tsp mint sauce from a jar or handful of fresh mint, washed & chopped finely (or redcurrant jelly – see below)

 Method:

1. in a flame-proof casserole large enough to hold the lamb shanks lying down, heat the oil
2. on a plate, roll the lamb shanks in flour to coat
3. brown the lamb shanks on all sides in the hot oil, then remove with a slotted spoon and set aside for a few minutes
4. add a little more oil to the pan, if needed, then throw in the carrot, celery, onion, garlic, thyme, bay
5. stir fry the vegetables over a medium heat for a few minutes, until coated in oil & starting to colour
6. add any flour left on the coating plate & stir this in
7. add the stock, the tomato puree and the mint sauce, stirring well to combine the ingredients
8. simmer together for a few minutes, then add the lamb shanks, nestling them down into the sauce.  They should be about two-thirds covered.
9. bring the casserole back to a very gentle simmer
10. either cook on the hob, or in a very low oven, but very gently for about 1½ hours
11. check occasionally, turning the shanks in the liquid to ensure that they cook evenly
12. the meat should be falling off the bone when you serve it

 What else you need to know:

1. check the seasoning & add more mint if you think it needs it;
2. instead of mint, you can use redcurrant jelly, which produces a delicious, but sweeter result
3. serve with mashed potatoes to mop up all the juices, and a green vegetable

High Wire

High Wire

To step out into the void

The wire shivering as it takes the strain

Of my weight upon it

Is to walk into an unknown

An empty darkness

The first few paces of the downward stretch

Towards the disappearing centre

High above the watchers who hold their breath

Their eyes pinned upon my every tremble

Until I establish balance

An equilibrium of mind and body

The deadly drop beneath my out-stretched arms

Fingers tautly pointing

With limbered legs

And the distance to the hardened Earth

Are of no immediate concern

Nor any aid to concentration

The only point of focus

Being one foot in front of another

Eyes upon the destination

Crowds and lights both disappear

Into a faded emptiness

Below my fragile body

As it seems to float along the rope

Blood pumping in my ears

The silence of air

The clarity of perfect quiet

Alone above the world

Determined not to tumble

Into the arms of death below

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Tooth

Tooth

You hurt me so much

And made my life a misery

With your endless nagging,

Complaining and worrying,

Your feelings for me hot and cold

And though I tried to ignore you

You were always there in the background

A constant presence

A biting pain

That would not go away

In the end I couldn’t stand the pressure

That you placed upon me

The way you made my nerves tingle

The decay in our relationship

So I made up my mind

That life was far too short

For me not to be as happy

As everyone else

And that we just could not go on

Living together any more

And I went and took advice

From a professional

Who got to the root of the problem

And laid out all my options

And after I’d chewed the matter over

It was my own decision

To make a complete break with you -

I knew that we must be parted

It was the kindest thing to do

In the circumstances

I cannot deny

That it was painful at the time

And I felt a certain numbness

About your sudden going

You left a very big hole in my life

But time has a way of healing

And I’m feeling so much better now

So I’m sure it was the right decision

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Pondering Peacocks

Pondering Peacocks

Rousing slowly from the mist and murk

Of a drowsing sleep

Morning light intruding itself

Creeping unbidden under eyelids

At the very edge of dawn

Faint and frowsing

As the last lingering strands

Of dreams and rambling nightmares

Stretch out longer and longer

Snapping the final threads of contact

With night-time places

Which then recede and fade

Among the tangled bedclothes

The day ahead intrudes itself

Grey, mundane, heavy

Insidiously mutters

About tedious tasks and dreary chores

Things that must be done

People to be met, appointments kept

The detritus of relationships

Demanded by one’s daily life

Prompted by the relentless movement

Of digits on the bed-side clock

But reluctant yet to make a start

And time, being only relative

The sheets and pillows still warm

Cling womb-like and calmly claim

The tired restless body

While the hour is cock-crow early

There is still a fleeting chance

To conserve precious energy

And preserve mindful meanderings

To postpone the inevitable

And hold the last few moments

Of some happiness within

By thinking of better things

Before floating back to vivid colour

And pondering perhaps

Upon peacocks

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 3rd June 2018

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 3^rd June 2018

Here is our weekly round-up of events from D-Town:

1.   Amazement far and wide this week when a D-Town man, who had been completely bladdered and locked up in a Trowvegas cell overnight for his own safety, was miraculously restored to full health the very next day.  As his wife reportedly said: “it was a complete shock to me.  I thought I’d lost him, but in less than twenty-four hours he was back with me, as if he’d come back from the dead.  Even Jesus took forty-eight hours to make his return.”

2.  Following reports that President Trump in the USA had discussed prison reform with Kim Kardashian in the Oval Office, the head of D-Town Council has been applying a similar policy of consulting relevant experts as a means of setting civic policy.  This week alone he has interviewed a bloke on the 49 bus about re-designing the road layout outside the brewery, a woman who works in the chip shop about the appointment of Local Trading Standards Officers, and one of the town’s drunks about policing standards and policies.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Franken-Furter

Franken-Furter (The Monster of Frankenstein food)

What end is there to man’s ingenuity?

His ability, when he’s in the mood,

To engineer our daily intake,

And bugger about with our food.

You’ve just got to read a few labels,

Although the print’s incredibly small,

To discover what it is they’re up to,

And find out how they’re conning us all.

Don’t get me started on sausages:

They use lots of the skin, sinew and some bristle,

Rusk, knuckle, a blizzard of gizzard,

And then add in plenty of gristle.

From slurry, and factory-floor sweepings,

And bits left over I’ve discovered,

“Chopped and shaped”, and certain “selected cuts”,

And also “mechanically-recovered”.

Then to make it frozen, or microwaveable,

You’d be surprised at what they have to do:

Colourings, flavourings and texturings,

With modified starch and other bits of goo.

Then they add extra sugar and some salt,

Followed by several e-numbers,

Preservatives and acidity agents,

And God knows what they’ve done to cucumbers.

There’s modifiers and regulators,

Emulsifiers and some thickeners,

Stabilisers and other weird stuff -

It’s a wonder it don’t sicken us!

They hide the grams of saturated fat -

They don’t like their product to look flaccid,

So they pump in fructose and glucose syrup,

Topped up by di-glycerides of fatty acid.

Glazing agents and flavour enhancers,

All the things that we’re supposed to hate:

Add a dash of something not natural,

Plus monosodium glutamate.

It all goes in to our processed foods,

Not just Cheesy Wotsits and Turkey Twizzlers,

But chicken nuggets, and ready dinners,

Pizzas, pies and those meaty sizzlers.

  

But they make it sound so attractive:

Branding family members sounds less messy:

John West, Mother’s Pride and Daddie’s Sauce,

Then there’s Uncle Ben and Auntie Bessie!

These packagers have a lot to answer for:

Food scientists mucking about with our cheese,

Selling heart-attacks on a plate,

Hiding the grease and making us highly obese.

Never mind the Scots loving fried Mars Bars,

Or cream teas, chocolate or late-night kebab,

They’re pumping too much gunk into our food,

And slowly turning us all into flab.

So we’ve all got to wise up a bit,

About calories and carbs – it’s not too late -

Just look out for their “serving suggestions”,

And avoid anything “made from concentrate”.

Avoid chicken masala-type pizza,

Don’t eat Dogburgers, unless you’re bent,

And look out for the magic words on labels:

“Beware: May Contain Nourishment”.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018

Dull

Dull

Dull

Lonely

Unwanted

Never picked

Left sitting on the wall

Till the very last choice

Then reluctantly taken

Like the useless booby prize

Told to keep away from any action

Too plain to be noticed

Too dull to talk to

Too boring to worry about

Melting into the crowd

Indistinguishable from the others

Without feature in a grey world

Totally unremarkable

Lifeless and uninspired

Never invited

Nor sought after

Always passed over

And forgotten

Awkward

Unimaginative

Unsure how to talk to others

Or what to talk about

Unable to understand

What might be on their minds

No conversation or social graces

Too vacuous to be original

Empty and without pattern

Not seen as anyone special

Or different enough

To be become anyone’s friend

To merit the slightest attention

Or to be talked about

But easily overlooked

Un-noticed and ignored

Totally unexceptionable

Never missed

Always alone

Lonely

Dull

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2018