Woss Happenin?

Woss Happenin?

Everything’s falling to bits,

Nothing’s the same any more:

Helicopters don’t stay in the sky –

They hit cranes and fall to the floor.

Things aren’t what they might seem:

You can’t trust what they tell you -

The Dreamliners have nightmares

And technical problems too.

The Internet is eating the world,

There’s no shops left on the High Street:

Not only Jessops and HMV,

But now Blockbuster’s admitted defeat.

And Rio Tinto walks into a wall,

Which is as bad as it gets.

The CEO’s taken his long walk,

For under-valuing their assets.

I think I’m going to go back in my shell,

I think I’m admitting defeat.

Can’t even do comfort eating,

Cos my burgers are full of horse-meat.

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Living

Living

everything is here

that could possibly be needed

for a careless, easy life

all that can be metered in clothes and cars

every modern convenience

every appliance, every gadget

shining sheet glass and steel

polished by the daily help

each room a showcase

of angles, clean lines

witness the good, the better things

from a lifetime’s striving

long-houred, hard working

trophies of success

nothing is missing

a sense of completeness

settles like a shroud

there are no loose ends

nor material wants and needs

that remain un-satisfied

we may go anywhere, at any time

at a moment’s notice

to fulfil the slightest whim

or the merest craving, our heart’s desire

and suck the juice until it’s dry

and yet

 and yet

 and yet

through this mogadon movie

of shining achievement

whilst we sleep in splendour

a spirit creeps about at night

breathes hoarsely

whispers insistently

an un-nameable something

and will not be still

and in the morning

when we awake, un-refreshed

we still ache inside

with that empty feeling of nothing

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Pork With Paprika & Olives

Recipe for: PORK with PAPRIKA & OLIVES

Ingredients:

·         500g diced pork (leg or shoulder)

·         Red onion – cut into thin wedges

·         2 garlic cloves, crushed

·         100g chorizo, cut into chunks

·         1 tsp smoked paprika

·         400g tin chopped tomatoes

·         300ml/ ½ pt chicken stock

·         400g can chickpeas, rinsed

·         100g green olives

·         Zest & juice of a lemon

·         Small bunch of parsley, chopped

Method:

1.       Heat oven to 150c/ fan 130C/ gas 2

2.       In oven-proof casserole with lid, season pork, then brown (in batches) in a little oil over a high heat. Set aside.

3.       Add onion & garlic to oil, cooking till softened

4.       Add chorizo & paprika, cooking for another 2 minutes

5.       Add tomatoes, stock and the cubes of browned pork

6.       Stir well, bring up to a simmer, then cover with lid & place in oven

7.       Cook for 1 hour

8.       Stir in chick peas & olives.

9.       Cook for another 1 hour.

10.    Stir in lemon zest, juice & parsley just before serving.

What else you need to know:

1.       The sauce in this is REALLY tasty

2.       Goes really well with crusty bread & a glass of cider

Don't Ask Me

Don’t Ask Me

I’m happy to give of my opinion,

If you want to hear what I think.

That is, when I’m down at the pub,

With my mates, just having a drink.

But at home, it’s a different story,

And one that causes me strife.

For there we have the fount of all knowledge,

And it’s not me, it’s the wife!

For she’s got strong views on every topic:

There’s no subject on which she hasn’t a take.

She’s an expert in every field you can name,

No interest in which she hasn’t a stake.

Tho’ she is my love and my darling,

My dearest, my treasure, my dear,

She’s got a fearsome way of talking,

That inspires a goodly portion of fear.

Across the marmalade at breakfast,

I’m on The Guardian, but she reads the Express.

She chokes on her toast and she fulminates,

And the crumbs she exhales make quite a mess.

You see she’s got a very firm stance,

On any social policy or decision,

Religion, the Royal Family,

And even on female circumcision.

I can’t get a word in edgeways sometimes,

As she dispels any kind of confusion.

She’s got the answer to everything,

And for every problem, a solution.

Professors, doctors and researchers,

Who’ve spent a life-time studying ideas,

Stand for nothing in her onslaught,

As she contradicts them with jeers.

Economics, world hunger and AIDS,

She can hold forth without pause,

So it’s pointless you asking me,

You’d best check with ‘er indoors.

Immigration, emigration, benefit cheats,

Foreign policy, football or cricket,

It’s best to listen, not interrupt,

Or she’ll tell you where you can stick it.

Decoration? Fashion? Or trends?

She’s the one who knows where it’s at.

Northern Ireland? Palestine? Or Syria?

She says what she thinks, and that’s that!

Homophobia, xenophobia,

And prejudice of every kind,

Could be banished within a few minutes,

If she gave you a piece of her mind!

  

She knows what’s wrong with everything,

She’s clear how things ought to be done,

There’s little she can’t address herself to,

And for her, there’s nothing new under the sun.

If only people would listen to her,

The world could be a much better place,

There’d be no fighting, or wars or disease,

And evil would be gone without trace.

Politics is her specialist subject,

And don’t get her started about the tax-man.

Her polemical style is worse than Jon Humphrys,

And on a bad day gets worse than Paxman.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking,

That she’s incredibly well meant,

That she should perhaps become an MP,

And see how she gets on in Parliament.

But it’s far too late for that I’m afraid,

There’s already been a roll of the dice:

For Conservative Central Office,

Already ring daily just to ask her advice.

No, there’s no situation she can’t handle,

There’s not a dogma she won’t fight:

If you’re looking for a policy statement,

She’s the one who’ll provide a sound-bite.

She’s never ready to settle for nonsense,

And she can’t abide the status quo.

She doesn’t know the meaning of silence,

But, for God’s sake, don’t tell her I said so!

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

(Girl On The) Number Forty-Seven

(Girl On The) Number Forty-Seven

Monday to Friday it’s always the same,

Off to work, to carry the load:

Waiting, whatever the weather,

For that bus to trundle down the road.

Route forty-seven is the number I need,

Though other numbers stop there too.

There’s jostling, and pushing and shoving,

As we stand there in the queue.

Sometimes it’s full and we can’t board,

Or perhaps there’s some spaces upstairs,

Then you have to get up there quickly,

And wait for the man collecting the fares.

But there’s one thing that I look out for,

That makes my journey complete:

The girl with the long blonde hair,

And she’s always there in the same seat.

She rides the upper deck near the front,

Staring from the window, calm and serene.

She’s beautiful and desirable -

I’m sure you know what I mean.

I wonder where she goes to each day,

And what could be her destination,

Cos I have to get off before she does,

As I continue my journey from the station.

I admire her, from my seat here at the back,

Though of me I’m sure she’s quite unaware.

I don’t even know what I’d say to her,

But I try and get as close as I dare.

She seems so cool, and calm and complete,

She looks so happy, assured and care-free.

I think she’s in a league way above me,

And I doubt if she’s ever noticed me.

So day after day, I just think about her,

And carry on without any fuss.

I don’t even know what her name is,

She’s just “the girl on the forty-seven bus”.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Special

Special

The careful unpacking of the car

Its safety seat unclipped, unbuckled

Passed gently in to waiting hands

Its cossetted cargo

Wrapped up warmly against any chill

Cocooned in blankets

Tissue-paper protection

For this long-dreamed-of new life

Fragile, precious

The son and heir

The only one

The oft-practised transfer

Into the bumpered baby-buggy

Strapped and restrained

Armoured against a hostile world

Robust and resilient

Protection against a reality

Of bangs and cuts and scrapes

Or cold and unseen germs

Screened and sheltered

Lest any danger should penetrate

Multi-layered defences

And give the slightest cause

For any concern

Fiercely treasured

Special beyond measure

An antiseptic existence

Preserved in layers of cotton-wool

This first, their only child

Kept from all possible harm

And dangers of the world

Loved and feared in equal measure

By his doting parents

Who will do anything

To ensure his survival

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 13th November 2016

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – Sunday 13^th November 2016

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Bromham:

                                                        

1.       A near-riot was narrowly averted at the village shop earlier this week when it was revealed that, due to cost-cutting measures, bunches of carrots were to be reduced from six carrots to five.  Customers staged sit-in protests and one person chained themselves to railings before the village bobby was summoned to restore order.  Parish Council leader Theresa Green spoke for everyone when she described the decision by the Carrot Farmers’ Collective to reduce the bunch-size as another example of modern corporate greed. Villagers have been travelling as far afield as Melksham in order to stock up with the old six-carrot bunches.

2.       Nigel Barrage, owner of the village’s fruit-cake stall, has travelled to Trowbridge, and has become the first Bromham politician to meet with County Leader-Elect Donald Bumpkin.  The two men spoke for almost seven minutes before Mr Bumpkin found that he had something far more important to do elsewhere.  It is thought that they may have discussed the future of the Pointless Open Territory & Agricultural Treaty Organisation (POTATO) defence alliance. Parish Council supreme leaderene Theresa Green was, strangely, unavailable for comment.

3.       For details of these and all other Bromham stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station Carrot FM.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Smoke In The Woods

Smoke In The Woods

Footfalls muffled by leaf-mould

Springy turf of mulch and lichen

Amongst the dark and louring trees

Their trunks tall and straight

Like rigid columns

Holding up the canopy

That shades the lower cultures

Bud-laden, thick and lush

The saplings and the bushes

Of the under-growth

And among the monumental beeches

Pierced by glittering

Flickering sunlight shafts

Hangs a hazy skein of wood-smoke

Diaphanous, gauzy

Floating, drifting slowly

Its lingering strands

Fingering higher branches

And within the greater silence

Where there is no bird-song

Nor any rodent scuttlings

That can carry any distance

Through the depth of empty forest

There penetrates the faintest crackling

Cracking twigs and logs upon a fire

A simple sound of comfort

And a promise of human warmth

The smells of damp and ash

And simple cooking become stronger now

Than natural woodland aromas

Betraying the location

Of a camp-site under canvas

Hidden in a hollow

Among the dark, dank greenery

Of wet, mouldering vegetation

Near the gurgling stream

A lonely retreat

Far from any crowd

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Spiced Potato Koftas

Recipe for: SPICED POTATO KOFTAS

Ingredients:

·         For the koftas:

o    4 baking potatoes

o    30g unsalted butter

o    20-40g fresh chopped herbs (dill, parsley, chives, coriander)

o    1 medium green chillie, very finely chopped

o    ¼ tsp turmeric

o    ¼ tsp smoked paprika

o    75g feta, broken into chunks

o    ½ tsp caster sugar

o    ½ tsp salt

·         For the coating:

o    40g plain flour

o    1 egg, whisked

o    90g flaked almonds (or sesame seeds or breadcrumbs) – for the coating

o    1 ½ tsp coriander seeds, toasted & gently crushed (or dukkah is ideal)

o    ¾ cumin seeds

·         600ml vegetable oil (for frying)

Method:

1.       Heat oven to 220C/ 200C fan/ gas 7

2.       Prick potatoes all over, put on oven tray & bake for about an hour until soft/ cooked

3.       Leave to cool a little, then peel & discard skins

4.       Put potato flesh in bowl, and mix roughly with butter, herbs, chilli, spices, feta, sugar, salt

5.       Form into 8 koftas of 60g each & lay on oven tray

6.       Put flour in one bowl, egg in next, seed/ crumb coating in next

7.       Gently roll each kofta in turn in flour, then egg, then coating

8.       Pour enough oil into a pan to come about 1” up the sides & heat

9.       Carefully lower in 2 or 3 koftas at a time, and fry 1-2 minutes, then turn over & fry other side for another 1-2 minutes until light brown all over

10.    Place in dish lined with kitchen paper to drain & keep hot whilst you cook the other koftas

What else you need to know:

1.       Serve with lemon wedges and/ or a dipping sauce or salsa

2.       Great as a starter or side-dish

Galloping

Galloping

A flash of flanks and fetlocks

Horses turned free within the paddock

The grass beaten and churned into sodden ground

By thumping, pounding hooves

As they wheel away

Heads held high and proud

Distended nostrils and teeth exposed

Manes flowing in the breeze

Beating alongside the fencing rails

At first a trembling trot

Building to a cautious canter

Before breaking into wide-legged gallops

Drumming in steady time

Shoulders and backs bent to the task

Of increasing speed

Then careering across the open field

Driven by the memories of former racing days

And the dash along the final furlong

To the invisible finishing line and waiting glory

Now rid of bits and reins and saddles

And high-seated, whipping jockeys

Allowed to frolic unrestrained

Driven by sheer exuberance into an ecstasy of sprinting

Coursing round the imagined circuit

Only pulling up at last, when good and ready

With a lung-deep triumphal whinney

Panting and straining to catch their breath

Pleased as punch, happy with their efforts

Then shambling gently over to the gate

To scrounge a proffered apple

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Drowning In Five Inches of Water

Drowning In Five Inches Of Water

A telephone ringing

Far away down in the hall

Takes only a moment to answer

But creates an absence of minutes

From precious play-time in the bath

And begets a long, empty space of waiting

Of wanting you

Of needing you

To hurry back upstairs

And an opportunity for her

To slide slowly down

Soft-skinned and slippery

Soapy from the bubbles

From the clear air above

To a short watery rest

Below the surface

Beneath the noise

Within the quiet, calm nothingness

And to breathe evenly

Drinking the warm liquid

Just long enough

To fall asleep forever

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

White-out

White-out

I wakened to whiteness -

Oh, not to carpets of snow

That cover and soften every surface

Hiding all the details -

But to the thickest, hardest frost

That some winter wizard had painted

Or sprayed like icy caster sugar

Dusting delicately every single twig

And every blade of grass

Absolute stillness

Not a creature moving

In this monochrome silent world

The leafless branches of trees

Jutting dark sticks, dry and brittle

Frozen silhouettes

Crystalline shapes

Rimed in frost

Their features sharp and jagged

By the coldest hardness

And the clear glassiness of ice

The faintest moisture in the air

Floating silken gossamer strands

Vague and misty

Thin clouds of a snowman’s breath

Exhaled upon the scene

The distant hazy sky

Almost white itself

Blending with the earth

A dissolved horizon

An under-exposed frame

The under-developed picture

Of a colourless vista

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Fleeting Madness

Fleeting Madness

“Amor brevis furore est”

That day I thought my heart would burst

The blood boiling in my veins

A sickness at my stomach

Butterflies within

Every time I looked at you

Your eyelids flickering in the dazzling sun

Your lips parted in a gentle smile

Of mockery

And perhaps some pleasure

Reckless in my words

Hot and hasty, unthinking

Desperate to please, to promise anything

Urgent pleadings, passionate

Almost painful

Burning and breathless

Frightened lest you should turn away

I see it now

As a fleeting illness

Lasting but a little time

From which the fever passed its crisis

Symptoms resolved over many seasons

The heat now long dissipated

Calmer feelings restored

Cooler emotions to the fore

That messy madness gone

Replaced by a fine and clear indifference

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 6th November 2016

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – Sunday 6^th November 2016

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Bromham:

                                                        

1.       In a stiffly-worded letter, a firm of solicitors in Bromham has told the Parish Council that it must actually debate items on the PC agenda before making any decisions which affect the future of the whole village, and that it’s simply not enough to ask old Fred in the back bar of The Wounded Ferret what he thinks about it.  The PC says it will ask another firm of solicitors what they think about the matter before deciding what to do. Old Fred was not available for comment.

2.       A possible armed insurrection was narrowly averted in the village last night, when a number of fires were deliberately started, and firearms could be heard being discharged across a wide area.  Following a tip-off, the cellars of the Social Centre were searched, but no explosives were found.  Gunshots continued to be heard throughout the evening, but the perpetrators could not be discovered.  Although several distress flares were seen in the night sky, police officers were unable to trace those in difficulty, and now believe that the whole thing may have been a treasonable plot.

3.       For details of these and all other Bromham stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station Carrot FM.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Daughters

Daughters

When did it start to happen?

Was it as soon as you were born

or was it even earlier

as you floated warm in amniotic fluid?

Or even at the moment of conception

in a complex interplay

of genes and chromosomes

that the differences began?

The females of my species

developed along a very different path

from the ways that I had known

and had their own concerns

that yearned for pink in everything

(when I know full well

that such a colour

never crossed our minds)

and took to desiring dollies

and petting puppies and kittens

from a very early age

and then grew up all too quickly

Soon giggling in barricaded bedrooms

confused by active hormones

pre-occupied with latest hairstyles

and clothing in the fashion magazines

or brands of make-up and shampoo

and the delicate issues

involved in the removal of body hair

or the base behaviour

of the latest boyfriends

and who fancied who at school

Then the greater changes

of maturing mind and body

ripening into an all-at-once adulthood

with its sudden sensibilities

of the female and the feminine

and the ferocious gender-bonding

within the sisterhood

And a new respect

for a mother long-ignored

and who once had little time for men

the masculine, muscled males

with their crude loudness

their football and sporting obsessions

and testosterone-driven lives

When did you girls grow into women?

Was it something subtle that I missed?

How did you grow so far apart

and became so very different

and how many years has it taken now

for us to hardly know each other once again?

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Bedtime

Bedtime

A careful journey through the house

Starts with the regular routine

The easy things at end of day

Of switchings-off, and shuttings-down

Of locks and bolts and doors

And the silences that quickly fall

Within the lounge and in the kitchen

Then heading for the staircase

And the reluctant nightly climb

Towards the empty, darkened corridor

That harbours brooding shadows

And perhaps conceals an unseen something

Now trying to hold back a creeping fear

And the mounting tension

Engendered by an empty house

And too many nights of loneliness

Fumbling round the corner of the wall

With a trembling, groping hand

Seeking out the elusive switch

That will illuminate the feeble bulb

And banish darkness

From the space along the landing

And the hurried steps

Echoing against the plaster walls

Towards the master bedroom

Past the other door, her door

The one that never opens now

And diving quickly into the empty bed

To banish this unwanted fear

This irrational paranoia

And to try to fall sleep

Yet again alone

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Bread with chive, yoghurt & oats

Recipe for: BREAD – Chive, Yoghurt & Oat Bloomer

Ingredients:

·         350ml warm water

·         1 tsp fast action yeast

·         1 large bunch chives, finely chopped (or use spring onions, or onion)

·         200ml yoghurt

·         400g strong white bread flour

·         100g strong wholemeal flour

·         2tsp salt

·         Handful oats

·         Oil for kneading

Method:

1.       Pour water into a large bowl

2.       Add yeast & chives & mix well

3.       Stir in yoghurt

4.       Add salt & both flours, mixing well

5.       Pull together into a single sticky ball

6.       Leave in the bowl, cover with a clean cloth & leave to stand for 10 minutes

7.       Lightly oil worktop & knead the dough gently for 10 seconds

8.       Return to bowl, cover & leave for a further 10 minutes

9.       Knead again for 10 seconds, return to bowl, cover & leave for 90 minutes, until risen by at least half

10.    Prepare two dinner plates: on one put two sheets of kitchen paper, wet with water.  On the other spread out a handful of oats

11.    Line a large oven tray with baking parchment

12.    Get the ball of dough & roll it on the wet plate to moisten the surface, then roll around in the oats until they stick all over, then place into the baking tray

13.    Cover with dry cloth & allow to rise again for about an hour

14.    Heat the oven to 220C/ fan 200C

15.    Using a serrated knife slash the top of the loaf diagonally five or six times

16.    Bake in the hot oven for 40 minutes until golden

What else you need to know:

1.       This looks complicated, but it isn’t!

2.       The loaf will be thin and flat & will develop a very firm crust

3.       It has a lovely sourdough type taste to it – delicious!

4.       Great with soft cheeses