I Buy A New Washer

Much of my inspiration comes from Sweden these days, and last summer this included a lightweight green hammock slung between trees.

My mother taught me to read using a set of word cards.

I cycled to my allotment first thing - let's say 7.00am.

… and I don’t mean Declan Rice, of Arsenal and England.

I'm not a natural runner, but I have become a habitual one.

Here… ...and it was so beautiful.

I’m listening to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7.

I have taken delivery of the final bowl in my 'tree' series.

It started on Boxing Day when I was breakfasting with my Longest-Serving Friend.

Poor Francis Thompson.

When Suzanne invited me to see Lambrini Girls (punk band Phoebe Lunny and Selin Macieira-Bosgelmez) at Birmingham's XOYO night club the other weekend, I said yes without really knowing.

Not all my poetry is about love, death, queues, and swimming.

The programming of a concert is an art in itself.

I've returned home from August, and from the resolve that emerged as I went into this gift of a month that I'd swim outdoors each day.

I left London when I was 24, so I'm used to cities by now.

I will not forget last night’s swim until I forget everything.

I may be testing your patience, dear readers, but my daily swim in Little Norrsjön has become the pivotal moment of my days in Sweden, so here's more swimming writing.

I’m reading ‘Teaching a Stone to Talk’ by Annie Dillard.

I took care, when I waded into the lake this morning along the side of the rowing boat, to note where I’d got in.

Things on the allotment have started coming to flower and fruition - things like roses and chives and broad beans and pinks and mint and jasmine and strawberries and thyme and garlic and rhubarb and four types of lettuce leaf and raspberries and two new p…

As I pushed it closed on Tuesday, it became apparent that the shed door, which had been shaky for a long while, was in danger of becoming completely un-hinged.

isolate - From the Latin, insulare, to make into an island I - sol - ate I am solo since the positive Covid test have made myself an island plotted my time as a map of solitude coordinated myself to a pattern of rest I - sol - ate within my flat on the so…

I have felt myself in the underworld this winter.

My sons are grown up and living independently, and more than capable, but there's a part of me that feels a tug towards their birthdays - of course I do.

I did not expect to be moved to tears by my greenhouse, but there I was, this sunny afternoon, at my allotment, phoning my Longest-Serving Friend.