I am in jolly old England

I woke up early on this Sunday morning

It is almost the end of May

Clear blue skies over the English countryside

The sun is rising over the Downs

Casting long shadows over the English garden patio

The vegetable garden is basking in the warm English sunshine

Growing season is upon us

You can almost see the leaves expanding

Birds line up at the bird feeders

Grateful for their free English breakfast

Birdsongs fill the air

Doves are gently cooing

Others chirping and tweeting

While most folks are still sleeping

Tall hedgerows border the very English manicured lawns

Providing a welcome home for English wildlife

Flowering plants and shrubs abound

The quintessential English country garden

Painted around a beautiful English country house

Close to a small English village

With a typical English village green

Where white clothed English gentlemen

Play the English game of cricket

On sunny English afternoons

The sound of leather hitting willow

Followed by civilized English applause

From the warm-beer sipping English spectators

Brings back fond memories

I am in jolly old England

Beach Day

Beach day

At day at the beach planned

Picnic basket prepared

Towels and sunscreen packed

Beach chairs and umbrellas ready

Load up the car and go

Kids bursting with excitement

Parking a short walk from the beach

Dad does the heavy lifting

The kids carrying buckets and spades

Finding the perfect spot

Setting up the umbrella for shade

A stiff breeze off the ocean

Kids playing in the sand

Time for a nap in the beach chair

A few hours later everybody is hungry

Time to break out the picnic

The wind is blowing harder

But we are still having fun

I am handed a plate of food

Fresh sandwiches and cake

It looks very appetizing

I am salivating in anticipation

I bite into the sandwich

Horror of horrors it tastes gritty

Sand blown all over my sandwich

I try to wipe it off to no avail

Sand is blowing everywhere

Its in my eyes now too

Time to abandon the beach day

The kids complain about leaving

Heavy traffic all the way home

The kids start fighting in the car

Arrive home tired and grumpy

Sand is traipsed through the house

I jump in the shower and scrub

A large pool of sand forms on the shower floor

It refuses to wash into the drain

Why did I ever think beach days were fun

I wonder no more

I wonder how different it would have been today

if I had made different choices all those years ago

I wonder if I would I be living in the same place today 

I wonder if my situation would be much different

I wonder if the world would be exactly the same

I can remember wondering back then

wondering if I was making the right decisions

wondering if I would have regrets

wondering how my future would be

wondering if I would be happy and secure

wondering if I would be healthy

wondering if I would ever find love again

wondering how the world might be

I am now wondering why I wonder so much

it soaks up too much time and energy

it is surely time to give up all this wondering stuff

leave it to the universe

let fate decide my fate

take my chances and roll with it

wondering is for wondering wanderers

pondering is for pontificators

worrying is for worriers

life is here to be lived

people are here to be loved

health is here to be treasured

security is here to be acknowledged

happiness is here to be enjoyed

doing it is for the doers

no more wondering

just live it

The swearing vicar and the model sailing ship

my first job was in shipbuilding 

on the banks of the river Mersey near Liverpool

they employed thousands of workers

all with different skills organized into trades

they ranged from highly skilled technicians

to unskilled laborers who basically carried stuff

workers were grouped in teams 

assigned to stay with a build until completion

it was fascinating to witness a ship being built

large sections welded together on the slipway

the empty hull being launched into the river

machinery installed while floating in a basin

I was put with a team of ten guys

they had a small hut for tea breaks and lunch

a place to shelter from the raw winter

they told outrageous tales and made fun of everybody

one guy in the hut was nicknamed the vicar

not because he was particularly religious

a satirical reflection of his devotion to thievery alcohol and porn

the vicar never failed to put a swearword in every sentence

the vicar was addicted to stealing from the shipyard

one day producing a block of wood

lignum vitae which was used to make shaft bearings

the vicar announced he was making a model f***ing boat 

after many weeks of carving it was time to sail it

a perfect replica of an old sailing ship

we all gathered with excited anticipation

the vicar lowered his beautifully carved model into the water

it sank straight away 

to howls of laughter

the vicar swore a thousand different curses  

all the other guys knew that lignum vitae does not float

madam palindrome

temperature drops

fun stops

leaves falling

winter calling

wind howling

walkers scowling

fingers numb

cold bum

reaching home

madam palindrome

fireplace burning

stomach churning

warming hands

making plans

cocktail making

stirring shaking

old fashioned

wickedly impassioned 

cutting cheese

bees knees

garlic crackers

appetite highjackers

fireside drinking

wistful thinking

friends departed

feeling downhearted 

watching flames

recalling names

memory lane

grieving pain

doorbell ring

voices sing

friends arrive

feeling alive

laughter abounds

sweet sounds

drinks flowing

happiness growing

stopped forsaking

memories making

A song can trigger distant happy memories

I grew up on Merseyside near Liverpool

I was around 11 years old during the peak of Beatlemania

I remember listening to vinyl records at home on a gramophone

as a teenager I fell in love with rock music

at that time there was no internet 

radio broadcasting was strictly controlled by the government

there was very little air time given to popular music

pirate radio stations started to fill that gap

Radio Caroline was a ship based pirate radio station

broadcasting from sea outside UK territorial limits

as a teenage rebel it was a thrill to listen to illegal broadcasts

the DJs were under no constraints about what to play or say on air

in the 1970’s I discovered local pirate radio stations

these were land based illegal broadcasters

hunted constantly by the authorities

they were very innovative in evading capture

sometimes broadcasting from a simple transmitter

powered by a car battery

connected to a cassette tape recorder

with antenna wires strung between trees in a field

I remember one land based local pirate station called Radio Jackie North

broadcasting popular music on the medium waveband at 217

urban legend said they broadcast live from tower blocks in my home town

lookouts monitored police activity at ground level

using walkie talkies they would give warnings to the broadcasters above

the station would go off air while the pirates hid the equipment

they would then move it all to an adjacent tower block

just to keep one step ahead of the raids

the Radio Jackie theme tune was Jackie Blue

a song by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils

whenever I hear that song today

it triggers distant happy memories 

The battle of Culloden Moor

As a boy I stood on Culloden Moor  

2000 kilted warriors perished there

My father by my side

A pilgrimage to his Scottish homeland

A rugged raw place

Scotland’s saddest day in 1746

I watched my father shed a tear

Not understanding why

Standing on the grave sites 

It made no sense to me then

Just a bunch of tombstones

My father gave me a history lesson

The last pitch battle on British soil

Scottish highlands fell to English rule

Wearing tartan was subsequently outlawed

Scottish culture was being crushed

Scotsmen remained proud

Their glorious highland landscape

Owned by distant Englishmen 

Never relinquished its stark beauty

Scotland was poor in the 1940’s

My father came south seeking work

Settling near Liverpool 

Shipbuilding supported jobs

Three children later

He remained a proud Scot

taking me to his birthplace

And to that lonely moor

My father has long since left us

I have explored Scotland with vigor 

Walking, fishing, whisky drinking

Inheriting my father’s yearning

I fell in love with the highlands

Proud to wear my clan kilt today

Now I understand why my father cried

Culture survives persecution

The Loan Ranger and Spam defeat junk emails

Gioachino Rossini composed the William Tell Overture in 1829

I listened to that music Saturday morning as a child

I had no idea back then who composed the music

It was simply a stirring prelude the Lone Ranger

All the kids in my street watched it at the local flea pit cinema

In my adolescent years I binged on Many Python

Hilariously funny sketches about ridiculous subjects

There was one about a restaurant with Spam in every dish

A customer enquired if they had anything without Spam

There followed a singing chorus which repeated the word over and over

I would sing that song at home mostly to annoy my parents

Who would ever have guessed that Spam would become so famous

Its the word used to describe all your unsolicited emails

The ones that show up daily in your inbox

Somebody once used the name to describe them as annoyingly repetitive

Just like the Spam word in that Monty python sketch

I have tried so many ways to reduce my spam emails

Label them as junk or hit the unsubscribe link

They just keep on coming every single day

If you leave them for a few days they seem to grow like mold spores

I wanted to find a way of making the daily spam email delete activity more fun

I briefly thought about trying to recycle them

Collecting them all in a folder and forwarding to somebody else

Perhaps my least favorite politician or an annoying TV personality

But that in itself is too much work

Then I hit on the solution to make email deletion pure nostalgic fun

I now look forward to taking out the email trash daily

First I open a tin of Spam and slice it into bite size squares

Then I play a youtube video of the Loan Ranger

I snack on Spam while listening to the William Tell Overture

Its a race to the finish as I delete my emails at a super fast tempo

I can only win if the Spam and my junk emails are all gone before the end of the music

You should never go back expecting things to be exactly the same

A few years ago

I visited the town in England that I left 25 years ago

the place where I raised my children

I remember them playing in a vibrant neighborhood

curiosity led me to drive by the house I used to own 

it was a not how I remembered it

it used to be a thriving community

the once pristine senior citizens residence was boarded up

there were no young children playing in the street

a landscaped common area was neglected and overgrown

many of the homes were showing signs of neglect

there was an air of decay and despair 

curiosity led me to drive by the local pub

I had spent many happy times there

socializing with friends and celebrating events

it had changed a lot

graffiti adorned every boarded up window and the roof was crumbling

I learned that the business failed many years ago

the local factory that employed most of the town had long since closed

unemployment had taken its toll on the community

nothing was like I remembered

and I had no idea it would change so much when I left there

but I was looking back through rose tinted glasses

and my memories were distorted by the pain of a broken relationship

you should never go back expecting things to be exactly the same

things change with time and go through cycles of regrowth

I have since learned that the site of the old factory has been redeveloped for residential use

new housing has attracted young families

children once again play in the streets

the town lives on

You should never go back

A few years ago

I visited the town in England that I left 25 years ago

the place where I raised my children

I remember them playing in a vibrant neighborhood

curiosity led me to drive by the house I used to own 

it was a big mistake

it used to be a thriving community

the once pristine senior citizens residence was boarded up

there were no young children playing in the street

a landscaped common area was neglected and overgrown

many of the homes were showing signs of neglect

there was an air of decay and despair 

curiosity led me to drive by the local pub

I had spent many happy times there

socializing with friends and celebrating events

that was another big mistake

graffiti adorned every boarded up window and the roof was crumbling

I learned that the business failed many years ago

the local factory that employed most of the town had long since closed

unemployment had taken its toll on the community

nothing was like I remembered

and I had no idea it would change so much when I left there

better to keep the memories of times gone by

than to shatter them with images of the present

I felt fortunate to have escaped the decay

but sad to have witnessed the ravages of time during my absence

you should never go back