Gooseberries

Gooseberries

Asking every time I go to her house

To find out whether the time is right

If the season has yet come round

When we can start the picking

Grandma cautious of the damage

That may be done to little hands

Finds the fabric gloves inside the shed

And finally gives the go-ahead

The thrill of impending danger

From the vicious scratching thorns

Hiding beneath the leaves of shiny green

To find and pluck the precious fruits

The light-green downy orbs

To fill the waiting basket

And emerge triumphant

Unscathed and only slightly scratched

Then Grandma hard at work

To top and tail the little beauties

Dredged in caster sugar

And hidden beneath the pastry crust

Of the pie we shall have tonight for tea

Then to commit the rest to jars and jams

That we might enjoy them longer

Bursts of luscious fruit in deep mid-winter

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Cream of 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

Grandad's Garden

Grandad’s Garden

Past the bilberry bushes at the side

Along the narrow path that he has flagged himself

With rough-hewn Yorkshire stone

And up three steps between the rocky flower-beds

Into the larger upper garden

Where he rules his undisputed empire

Out of sight of Grandma

And out of hearing, when it’s time for tea

There stands the bunker of his green-house

Heavy-built of brick and iron and glass

Heated by the sun in summer

And by the stove in cooler seasons

With its shed-like little office

The filing done in a dozen pigeon-holes

In tobacco tins and sweet-boxes

Housing his horticultural paraphernalia

Of labels, seeds and bits of string

And, there, hanging limply on one wall

The old certificates, faded firsts

From garden shows of decades ago

And down the length of this glass cathedral

Along the apex, twisting through the cross-ties

A grape-vine of indeterminate age

Its curling foliage providing shade for more tender plants

Which every autumn shyly presents

Its modest crop of bunched black fruits

Now focussed on his bedding plants

Which he sells to earn a few bob

Just to maintain his life-long hobby

Chatting with his mates, sipping tea

Chomping on his unlit pipe

Then fussing with the water-hungry tomatoes

And, finally, his pride and joy

The prize-winning chrysanthemums

Reds and pinks and whites

Which even Grandma admits she likes

Before she complains about the muck

She says he trails into the house

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Castle

Castle

That sound, that moment

When wood closes softly against wood

And the metal parts quietly touch each other

The satisfying click of engagement

A door that perfectly fits the frame

A latch that catches

A key that turns

A bolt that’s thrown

A curtain that’s drawn

A closing-in and a shutting-out

An exclusion of all the outside

The cold, the air, the weather,

Them, and the rest of the world

A feeling of coming home

Of safety and security

Returning to the roost

The familiar smells of cooking and washing

Of carpets and of furniture

The soothing quietness of rooms

Calm domestic spaces

Looking as if only lately left deserted

Still there and undisturbed

The warmth of shadows

And the ticking of the clock

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Cathedral Green

Cathedral Green

I lay abed that morning

First night away from home

Restless and long awake

The covers still unfamiliar

And the light breaking through the curtains

Making new criss-cross patterns

On different walls and furniture

In a room I did not recognise

And I heard the heavy bells

Deep and penetrating

Striking every quarter hour

In that early part of day

And I crept across the floor

To peer through cloudy windows

And the rain-streaked panes

At the freshness of the green

The cultivated square

That was the cathedral lawn

Copyright Andy Fawthrop

Men In Suits

Men In Suits

Though I’ve been accused of being a shirker

I’ve never felt threatened by a woman wearing a burkha

Or accused of being a blue meanie

By a girl sporting a burkini

And though some say that the hijab, or a niqab

May appear unappealing and drab

Or that there’s not much going for

Those confined to a chador

That something may be lax

For those in yashmaks

That nuns wearing wimples

May be hiding their dimples

Or even a bad case of pimples

I simply don’t get the thing about terror

I think it’s more of a social error

You see - there’s no airs and graces

With those choosing to cover their faces

And I have to report sadly

That none of them treated me as badly

As those who dress up in posh suits

With nice knotted ties, and shiny boots

Like those politicians – the wankers

The City institutions and bankers

Who caused me distress an’

Presided over major recession

Caused mayhem and civil dissension

And thoroughly buggered up my pension

Or turned me straight down for a loan

And talked to me with condescending tone

Or lied to the nation over the despatch box

Then never forced to stand in the dock

With intelligence that he swore

Forced us to go immediately to war

No – the real baddies are in plain sight

And take particular delight

In exercising their power by law

Using the system – that’s what it’s for!

So let’s fight back using a different route

Show the buggers that we do give a hoot

Relieve them of their ill-gotten loot

Let’s reform things, branch and root

And ban anyone who’s wearing a suit!

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 10th September 2017

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 10^th September 2017

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

                                                  

1.      More climate change problems for citizens of D-Town as Hurricane Beyonce ripped through parts of the borough last week.  People out on small rowing boasts on The Crammer said that it had been “a bit choppy”, a shop-keeper’s sign blew over in Sidmouth Street, and there were reports of an outhouse door banging in the breeze.  Civic forces are on stand-by in case it rains or gets a bit chilly.  People were advised to “wrap up warm” and to go about their daily business as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening.

2.      And a minute’s silence was held in the aisles of Poundland yesterday as citzens struggled to come to terms with their grief after the announcement that walnut whips are shortly to lose their walnuts.  The new confection, to be known simply as a “Whip” is expected to have more bite to it, and serve as a punishment for those who struggle with weight problems.  In other news the milk is to be removed from a Milky Way (which will become A Way), the toffee from Toffee Crisp (new name A Crisp) and the lions from Lion Bar (new name a Bar).

3.      For details of these and all other Devizes stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station D-Town F-Off.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017