In Progress

1. Thanks to the miracle that is View On Demand I've been catching up with Season 1 of Life On Mars- the show about the Manchester cop who flips back in time to the early 70s. It really is very good. There's an American remake in the offing but if you can catch the original- with it's very particular sense of time and place and its fabulous performances by John Simm and Philip Glenister- you really should. 

2. Tish, the younger and larger rabbit, has an upper respiratory tract infection (apparently this is common) and we're taking her to the vet's every other day for a shot. It amazes me how you can stick a needle in a rabbit and it doesn't even flinch. "Yes," said the vet. "Rabbits are just about the bravest animals there are."

3. Carl is redecorating the back bedroom. When he pulled up the old carpet he found that one of the floorboards was supported at one end by the cold water pipe. Sheesh, but that could have been nasty. 

4. There's a Test Match in progress- England v the West Indies- but I'm off my cricket. It's got something to do with the way our boys fell apart in Australia last summer but even more to do with the murder of Pakistani coach Bob Woolmer during the World Cup this winter- after his team had lost a couple of games in circumstances that suggest match-fixing.  The case is still unsolved and I get the feeling the authorities would like it to stay that way. I hate the corruption in big-time sport and one of the reasons I followed cricket was because I thought it was comparatively clean.   Well- now I know different.

A Love Poem- Written In 1999

                                     BRIGHTLY LIT

 

                                    Todmorden station at 9.00 pm:

                                    The waiting room is brightly lit

                                    But its door is locked.  There's no-one here

                                    Save me and a lad asleep on a bench

                                    (With his legs drawn up- so not like a corpse)

                                    In the misty rain.  I am ten dark miles

                                    And more than an hour away from you

                                    And if I were able to think of our number

                                    (You know, love, what I'm like with numbers-

                                    Useless) I would call you up

                                    On the mobile phone.  A goods train passes

                                    Pulling its metal catafalques

                                    And I think of that silly old play, the Ghost Train-

                                    Arther Askey has silly specs

                                    But is really a great detective tracking

                                    A gang of smugglers.  Actually, love,

                                    That wasn't the truth about the phone.

                                    I have the number.  It's just that I hate

                                    Those conversations in virtual space.

                                    I need to see you.  I need your touch.

                                    How else can I know how you're taking things-

                                    What you really mean?  I prop myself

                                    In an archway where I haven't a light

                                    Behind me and I watch the sleeper

                                    Turn, sit up and settle again.

                                    He's quite well-dressed and I guess he's sleeping

                                    Something off and not sleeping rough

                                    But I wonder how he can sleep at all

                                    Out there in the rain and so brightly lit.