Tipping Point

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Flies In The Ointment; Jackdaws On The Grass

Apologies are winging your way if I’ve not replied to your comments or visited your blogs recently. I’ve had a little fly in the ointment, so to speak, which is non-technical jargon for I’ve been having problems with WordPress recently and I haven’t a clue why.

I’m writing this post in the hope that it has now been rectified, and if it hasn’t, well, there’s only me reading this and you guys are none the wiser. Please let me know.

A couple of days ago, at a motorway service station, I was walking down a corridor, flanked the whole way by a glass window, whilst seeking out the Gents. At the end of the corridor a little girl was loudly banging on the glass. “Look, Daddy, pigeons!”

Her father, wearing the forlorn look of one waiting for his wife to come out of the toilet, a look I knew only too well, replied: “They aren’t pigeons, darling, they’re crows.”

As I passed them both I too glanced out at the birds.

Actuallythey are not crows, I thought to myself, they are jackdaws. 

And, with a certain smugness:

And I should know, being, unknown to you, the anonymous author of the City Jackdaw blog.

I didn’t say this, of course, for who was I to destroy the little child’s fantasy of her all-knowing father.

And besides, at that moment in time, I couldn’t even get City Jackdaw to work.

 

Breaking Light At Dusk

I’ve written that much, over on Facebook, about the tragedy and travesty that is unfolding at Bury FC, that I don’t feel like adding much more about it here.

But tonight, with tomorrow’s deadline looming, a deadline after which this historic club, after 134 years, will slip from existence, I took my son to Gigg Lane.

This is his club. Not a club he inherited from me, just as I inherited Manchester City from my father, but a club that he gave his heart to of his own accord. It’s a club that I have learned to love because he loves it.

On the journey there we heard a first glimmer of hope over the car radio. A chink of light in long-gathering shadows.

I feel a little more optimistic, but the margins are tight. It will go right down to the wire. It’s not dark yet.

Hinge Moments

from my poetry blog

Coronets For Ghosts

Hinge Moments

there are hinge moments

that connect

the before and after

beneath the blustering larches

we make them visible

on crowded carriages

the fingers that brushed briefly

in causal static

an eidetic clarity

of toss-a-coin

choice

take off your shoes

this is sacred ground

this is the place where we first met

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Claws For The Weekend: Going Out On A Limb

My wife always says that she needs an extra pair of hands.

Well I found her some in Leeds.

Jackdaw regulars may recall that the last time I was there it was legs that caught my eye.

Pretty soon I’ll have my self a new woman. My own Frankenstein’s monster.

Have a great weekend everyone. See you on the flip side.