That Day

That Day

I wasn’t there that day at the end

When you left me behind

Your sleep became deeper

Until you drifted away

In a haze of morphine 

I wasn’t there when the snow came

And the roads were blocked

The lawns white carpeted

The old mansion black-shadowed

As if it knew somehow 

I wasn’t there when they took you away

To wait alone in that Chapel of Rest

In the care of strangers

Awaiting clear instructions

Before the final journey 

But I was there on the very last day

When we gathered together

And gave thanks for your life

When it was finally all over

And there was nothing more to say

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss

Not Fade Away - celebrating 50 years of the Rolling Stones in performance

So Mick and The Boys have come out again,

Though they’re hardly in their prime.

I wonder if they’ll start up the band -

Let’s face it – This Could Be The Last Time. 

From their Gimme Shelter’ed-housing,

The Glimmer Twins are back in the action,

For one more trip round the rock circuit,

To see if they can get some Satisfaction. 

As Wood, Watts and Richards knock out the riffs,

And Jagger again sticks out his big lips,

I hope he’s alright on the high stages,

Strutting around on his dodgy hips. 

But I’ll have Sympathy For The Devil,

As those old chords thunder and crash,

And come roaring out for one more time,

And we all gasp at his Jumping Jack Flash. 

Don’t Start Me Up on all of the stories:

Wild Horses couldn’t force me to go back.

I have to tell it the way that I see it,

And tell you the truth – yes, to Paint It Black. 

They burned through all the drink and the drugs,

Bad behaviour and - what can I say? -

The arrests, and those famous groupies,

Bianca, Angie and Ruby Tuesday. 

‘Cos You Can’t Always Get What You Want,

Sometimes your heroes are driven by greed,

Although we’ll sadly miss their Brown Sugar,

It’s time to Not Fade Away, but Let It Bleed. 

I know – I should Get Off Of My Cloud -

Of the Stones’ music I was always a fan,

But surely these guys are now past it?

And Wyman’s no Street Fighting Man. 

It’s no use just having Love In Vain:

The Midnight Rambler is Under My Thumb.

They’re no longer Little Red Roosters,

But still living at home with their mums. 

So Let’s Spend The Night Together,

And watch their best times on DVD.

We don’t want them back on a stage again,

So far off that we can’t even see. 

So, come on boys – stay in retirement,

And let that be your geriatric goal.

I guess that we’re going to Miss You,

But after all – It’s Only Rock And Roll.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 5th August 2012

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – 5^th August 2012

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

·         Local pop sensation Fanny Fracas landed themselves in hot water this week, after their provocative performance at Bromham Social Club.  Local parish councillors were shocked by the lyrics which apparently called for better representation at a local level on a mixed transferable vote system, as opposed to the winner-takes-all approach of the first-past-the-post election dynamic.  At least that’s what they were reported to be saying.  It forms the gist of their latest hit single entitled “Screw You, Grandad”.

·         Bromham father-of-seventeen, Ivor Nurge, found himself in a virtual lock-down situation this week.  His wife and a large number of his children have taken over the lounge and kitchen of their semi-detached Council house for the duration of the Olympics, declaring the paths between lounge, kitchen and toilet to be special Olympic Lanes dedicated to facilitating speedy journeys between these key facilities in order to maximise viewing time from the sofa.  Only the hall, stairs and smallest bedroom have been excluded from this “no-go” area.  Mr Nurge, a man of failing strength and stamina, was apparently heard to say that he was “off down the pub” and that he “might not come back”.  Mrs Nurge was not available for comment.

·         Sport – heartbreak for Team Greater Bromham (Team GB) men’s football squad as they were last night eliminated from the Quarter-Finals of the Germolene Cup on penalties.  Commented team coach Benny Dogleash: “although it’s obviously absolutely gutting to be eliminated from the competition, our boys are proud to have upheld a generations-old tradition.  Many of the team’s fathers lost on penalties, as did their fathers before them.  It’s a real family thing – you just don’t get that in any other sport than football.”

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

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

Only Child

Only Child

What was it about me

That I should be treated this way?

That you should leave me all alone,

Single, singular and lonely?

Having a monopoly upon your time,

All your sharing, your caring, your affection

Your one and only treasure? 

What was it about me

That made you stop after one?

Was I enough for you

So wonderful, so endearing

That I filled all your time

Took all your attention

So there could be no room for any another

And a second could never be as good? 

What was it about me

That made you say “never again”?

Was I too much for you

That you could not bear to go through it all twice?

Was I just too much to cope with

My behaviour not good enough

A great disappointment

Or just not what you wanted? 

What was it about me

That was the fault in my creation?

Was it the love or the sex when you made me?

You never explained it to me

Why I should remain unaccompanied

No playmates of my own, no brother or sister

But left to wonder

About larger families around me 

What was it about me

Or did I do something wrong?

Was I too strange, too weird, too odd

An alien little boy

Too hard for you to cope with

Or was having a child

Just not what you’d expected?

But, since you’ve both left me

There can be no answers, only questions

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

Greenwash

Greenwash-day Blues (or why you shouldn’t believe Corporate PR about the environmental benefits they claim to bring).

"Beyond Petroleum” it’s called
That’s the latest moniker for BP,

I can’t understand it personally,

It just sounds like garbage to me. 

It’s slick advertising you know

Where they’re adding a new sheen

They’re covering up the reality

And making loud claims that they’re green. 

They spend more on their marketing

Than they do on their “green” actions

Their practices haven’t changed all that much

The difference is measured in fractions. 

They’re spouting new words & new slogans

But to me it all sounds just like tosh

They’re not really eco-friendly

It’s just a new veneer of greenwash.

For the oil companies are ripping the earth

Working in every geography

This kind of coy covering up

Can only be called eco-pornography. 

The factories poison the earth,

The airlines are polluting the sky.

It’s hard to live without oil or travel

But we’re going to have to try. 

For the planet is coughing & choking

The natural world sits in pollution

We’ve got to find some much better ways

And look for sustainable solutions. 

We all know that there’s a problem

And it’s bad enough being the cause

Without pretending to be helping

Whilst carrying on without any pause. 

So let’s have some integrity and truth

In all of the verbal exchanges

Let’s not have more of this hogwash

But spend the budget on real changes. 

And let’s stop this carbon-offset nonsense

We all know that it’s playing a game

It makes no tangible difference

And leaves the air choking just the same. 

We can’t stop the cows & sheep farting

It’s just what they do all of the day

We need to find a better approach

We need to find an easier way. 

It’s no good all of us doing our bit

With re-cycling our rubbish & waste

If big companies carry on just the same

Well – it sure leaves a bad taste. 

The governments & the countries

Need to find a way to agree

It’s down to all of the big boys

Not just little you and me.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012

Spring Onion Soup

Recipe for: (CREAM OF) SPRING ONION SOUP 

Ingredients: 

·         1oz butter

·         1 small onion, finely chopped

·         150-200gms spring onions, cleaned & chopped, including green parts

·         225g potato, peeled & finely diced

·         600ml/ 1pt vegetable stock

·         350ml/ 12 fl oz single cream or crème fraiche

·         Salt & freshly-ground pepper

·         Chopped fresh chives (to garnish) 

Method: 

1.       Melt the butter in large saucepan

2.       Add all onions & potato and sauté gently for about ten minutes until soft

3.       Add stock & bring to the boil

4.       Lower heat and simmer gently for about 30 minutes

5.       Puree the soup with a blender

6.       Add cream & stir in

7.       Add salt & pepper to taste 

What else you need to know: 

1.       Can be served hot or chilled

2.       Garnish with a swirl of cream or crème fraiche and a few snips of chive

We're All Drifting, Aren't We?

Unanchored

Her leg hangs languidly

Over the side of the lounger

Above long- forgotten drinks

Their ice melted in the heat

On the light-bright, polished deck

Amid a tangle of abandoned magazines

Their colour-bleached, crumpled pages

Lost beneath the relentless, blazing sun 

The boat wallows gently

Shallowed near the shore

Swinging slowly round

Shifting position, drifting with the tide

In the heat-baked afternoon

Where nothing stirs

And there is not a breath of air

Nor any breeze to cool the burning day 

Suddenly alert, the girl looks intently

Towards the shimmering island

Senses its spice-infused aroma

Believes she hears it calling

Feels the bow pull against the chain

Dragging the light anchor

Through the soft white sand

Beneath the gin-clear water

Where acid-blue fish dart

Between shafts of flickering sunlight 

She aches to step ashore

To feel the firm-ness of the Earth

Beneath her naked feet

A home to hold on to

A fixed point within her orbit

Un-shifting, unchanging

A steady, stable foundation

Where she could remain

Upon which she might build a life

And feel that she had finally arrived

At some long hoped-for destination

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012