Can’t believe it
Forty years have shot by already
Key moments of your life captured
In Dad’s annual birthday tributes
(A date you occasionally forget!)
Never forgotten the absolute joy
You provided on your day of birth
(Penned as “a feeling so perfect”)
And again in all the growing years
To become the man you are today,
A free soul, not tied by convention
Or societal norms and expectation,
Tackling the world on your own terms,
Bohemian plus brains, bikes and bottle!
05.09.2020
Cilla Black is alive and well!
I was swimming in the sea at Weymouth and suddenly a seal popped up in front of my nose. Taken aback I swam ashore and the seal followed. By the time I took a photo the mammal was in retreat!
A man and his pipe; my father-in-law and a wonderful father to Debbie, Bryan and Paul. Photo taken in Dorchester park two months before his death.
One of many pieces of art produced by the eagle-eyed Debbie Leech
John Atyeo died today aged sixty-one,
A heart attack;
As if yesterday
I watched him attack defences,
A man with a lion’s heart;
Hungry, a predator for goals,
As if yesterday
I was a boy with dreams
Willing to die for my hero,
Alive with him every moment
Scoring for Bristol City and England.
His goals were wondrous and sublime
As when upon the crowd’s roar
I hammered shot after shot crashing
Into an unsympathetic neighbour’s fence;
I only did it for Bristol City,
But I was misunderstood,
Constantly penalised for bad conduct.
This never happened to Gentleman John,
Exemplary behaviour on and off the field.
I loved the man and all he stood for;
(Making me stand in an orderly line
Holding on to his photo hoping he’d sign).
So, the dream ends?
For me football was truly a beautiful game,
John so burly but with surprising skill,
A huge heart that beat loyally for Bristol;
(Not cynically sponsored and measured for loot
But wholesome and blessed with a magical boot).
For the urchin from Hartcliffe striving to be a man
It was Big John of the City scoring great goals
Forever stirring the heart, but so much more,
He fired the imagination,
And in looking skywards
I began to believe that one day
All my dreams would come true.
“Have you a holiday job available please?”
“Sorry sir we have no staff shortages (You’re another one of them long-haired lazy bastards and I wouldn’t employ if you paid me.)
“Well thanks anyway (I knew that was coming slime-ball.) Do you know of any hotel vacancies nearby?”
“I’m sorry sir, I don’t know of any.” (Plenty of room in the sewage system)
“Oh well, never mind.” (Lying sod, you can stuff your pseudo smile Right up your arse)
“It is rather late in the season sir, you would be better off in a city.” (A place where you can smoke your pot and go to orgies without bothering me)
“Once again, many thanks” (For nothing)
“My pleasure sir.” (Get lost).
View from Debbie and Tom’s Spanish apartment balcony as darkness falls on an October evening whilst enjoying a gin and tonic!
I am your novel
Cover minus gloss
But a clear title
Look inside me
Absorb the print
Not a classic
But pages swell
With thoughts of you
Lengthy chapters
Waves of wonder
Revelation splashes
And words unsaid
Dialogue deepest
On passion’s flow
Varied style
Unique character
Marked face
As destiny spills
Romantically
Or not
So come into my plot
Spoon me up
Digest me
Abide with me
Witness a climax
Not a conclusion
As you read
I will write
Endlessly
Lover please
Never
Punctuate me