I had been sitting there for a while.
Just watching.
Feels like there is tension in the air tonight.
Everyone's waiting for something to happen.
...Great expectations...

A young guy comes along.
He keeps looking in the doorway.
I can't see what he is looking at,
But I wish I could.

Has someone left something?
Is he reading something? A sign? Graffiti?
I watch in wonder.

He walks towards the benches.
An unusual chap.
I look and give a smile hoping he will share his secret with me.

He does...
"Do you know if there is an out of hours letterbox for books?
There used to be one in my old library."

I go with him to investigate the letterbox he has found.
We discuss it.
It seems to go into the library but there is no obvious sign.

He takes the risk.
Posts his books inside,
And after a couple of seconds there is a Clunk.

He goes on his way.
And I sit back on my bench.

I put my hand in my pocket to feel the envelopes inside.
I wrap my hands around them,
Wishing I had had the courage to give one to him.

Suddenly he starts shouting "F*** You!... Yeah You!"
He bangs on the window.
People start to look round.
And they each get the same response.

His reasoning? :
"What are people gonna do if you say it to them?
Nothing! They are scared of you."

The guy with him stays as quiet as possible.

His attention turns back to the train man.
The same words repeated.

Then he says it:
"I just got out of prison today - What you gonna do?
Send me back?"

And sure enough the police turned up.

He bought me a rose today.
I've never been given a flower by a boy before.

A single red rose.

-I think it's much more beautiful on it's own.

Textile Archives at the V&A

Image used on this blog : http://www.arhv.lhivic.org/index.php/2006/12/01/259-le-va-renonce-aux-droits-pour-lespublications-academiques

Had I searched the whole entire length of the beach for one
- I'd never have found it.

Small, pale, pink
A tiny hole at the top,
Perfect.

And yet here it is,
Laying in the sand
Shining up at me.

The sun has started to shine now.
But there is still a breeze.
It strengthens.
And I can feel the sand whipping the back of my legs.

Looking back across the beach,
It looks mystical.
As the sand rushes along.
Like a mist,
Being called back by its powerful sourcerer.

Nottingham Trent Degree Show

The Scientists Project Exhibition at The Surface Gallery- Nottingham

Just as I walked past,
The wooden gate started to open.
Wide open it revealed a staircase,
A dark area behind.
I slowed down to peer in.

It was inviting me into this little world,
Inviting me to explore.

I looked around wondering whether I dare embark on this adventure.
Seeing other people close by I decide against it.

I walk on knowing I cannot fool myself.
Had there been no people I would have made the same decision.

Looking up at the ceiling,
There is a long crack in it.

I wonder what it would be like if I could slide through it.
-Squeeze through it,
Become 2D - Like Flat Stannley (remember him?)

I wonder where it will take me.
Would it be dark in there?
Or would it bring me stright out to the sky?
To the sun?

Yesterday I saw a tiny little bird.
A Bluetit – I think it was.
It stopped on the grey wall beside me.
Its blue breast shone.
It sang a little song.
Just for me.
I stopped to listen.
And when it was finished.
It just flew off.
Perhaps to sing a song for someone else.

- Thank you for brightening up my day. -

Today will be a good day.
That’s what I’ve told myself.
It has to be.
The sun is shinning.
It’s so warm outside.
We walked in through the arboretum.
It was green and colourful.
The flowers are in bloom.
It’s so nice and pretty.

-I forget my worries for a moment –

Sitting on the train,
Looking out of the window,
I-pod on,
Headphones in my ears.
Ben Harper comes on:

‘Walk Away…’

(and I can't stop thinking of him)

I’m sitting on the bench by the Cross.
On the phone to Rachel while I’m waiting for my cousin.
A little boy is running around.
He sees the pigeons
And runs straight towards them.
Chasing them in my direction.
I scream a little:
"Agh Pigeon!"
Just as I do a young guy walks by.
He sees my fear
And smiles at me.
I giggle at my foolishness
And he, seeing it’s okay,
Lets out a little laugh.

We said goodbye,
Fingers slid apart,
And hands dropped to our sides.
We parted in different directions,
Both turning back for one last glimpse,
Last glimpse before I let my happiness walk away.
He turns the corner,
I start to walk up the steps.
At the top, I stop,
Lean on the rail and watch.
I watch as time slows down,
And he strolls further away,
Then disappears out of sight.
I remain for a few moments longer,
Letting it sink in.
Then I too walk away…

Question from a tipsy boy to a very drunk girl:

"Are you okay?
Do you need help to get down the stairs?"

"No its okay –
- I’m fine
– just everything looks kind of wrong – you know?"


The boy smiled,
Took her by the arm
And they wobbled down the stars together.

“Are you being bitten …
… by a baby?”


- Imagine that -

It has been years since I have sat at this desk.
I normally just use it to dump things on.

The last time I remember sitting here,
I was still a school kid,
Spending most evenings studying late into the night,
- Candle burning -

I can watch the street from up here,
Yet I am invisible to them.
I see the man from across the road
Get into his white van and drive away.
I see Tom in a world of his own,
Headphones on.
Next door has visitors,
I don’t recognise them.

And as always I can see the TV flickering in number 31.
I can see the shapes on the screen,
I used to always try and guess what they were watching.

It’s darker now –
The street lamp outside my window has come on.
I see the street differently from up here.

I wonder if he isn’t allowed inside her house,
For years he has pulled up outside in his little blue car,
Either to pick her up,
Or drop her off.
But never once in so many years have I seen him go inside.

He’s been waiting there for ages now,
I heard him beep a while ago,
But there is still no sign of her.

I have never even seen him get out of the car,
Why does he never go to the door?
Is she hiding something inside,
That she doesn’t want him to venture inside?

Ah - here she comes now,
Ready at last,
Wearing red shoes and a maroon skirt.

- I wonder where it is they go -