Sunday, 31 March 2013



Stepping out from the White Lodge
The two of them are like candles, one tall and white, one short and bright
She has a spark in her eyes as she looks up at him
And he puts his hand in the small of her back
And from this subtle movement anyone could know that they were both
Friends and lovers
I shake my head and remember
That moments are just moments
And some become memories
Frozen in time forever, but most disappear
As the seasons pass.
I am not envious, but I am conscious that these two will have their own distant memories
Soon enough.


I am alone among strangers on a train, and I see a young man crying
It is him
And he is alone
Clutching a piece of paper
It is a program
I see the words IN MEMORIAM and today's date
And her name: Emma
It is spring, but the weather is cold
And he is dressed for winter
A vermillion scarf around his neck
I meet his eyes, brimming with silent tears
He looks but doesn't see
And I feel my chest tighten
And shudder a windless breath
And lose myself in my own memories
Of that day long ago.
But now he and I are together,
Strangers alone with ourselves
On the same train.


I walk by the lodge down the hill
On a Sunday evening
Just as we used to do
The lights burn in the autumn haze
But I am alone
And the only dancers
Are the raindrops on the pavement
And the only music
Is the wind rustling through the trees.

Sunday, 24 March 2013

Sunday, 10 March 2013

A TIME TO REAP-Royal Court

A good play is one which manages to eke out truths from both the actors and the audience. Good acting is when that action is done naturally and believably, almost imperceptively until there is no seam between the two, and you feel at the end as though you have shared something. The intimacy of a small theatre can either have great impact or be a terrifying and uncomfortable exposure of incompetence. In A Time to Reap upstairs at the Royal Court, it is the former. With an outstanding and lively performance by Sinead Matthews, the young Polish playwright Anna Wakulik examines the controversial topics of abortion, family, and the Church. Cleverly written and inventively staged, the play takes you through the lives of the main characters in a few moments, before settling down into the main story. Marysia (Sinead), a 17 year old who voluntarily has an abortion after a consensual dalliance with a priest at the summer camp, falls in love with with the gynecologist (Owen Teale) who does the procedure, which is of course against the laws of both Church and State. Over the course of the play, she gets pregnant again, this time with the son of her lover (Max Bennett) who is a hedonistic faux student living dishonestly off of his father's largesse in London. The whole edifice is built upon a foundation of lies, lack of commitment, hypocrisy, and a Church-imposed morality that though few follow, dominates both each individual's and the country's life. This play is about the Poland in all of us. The performance so drained the actors that they didn't come back for the second curtain call, though from the comment by the American behind me ("this is the longest I have heard a British audience clap"), it was not for our lack of trying. Highly recommended.

Tuesday, 5 March 2013


Granada Spain
Mar 2013

An early morning walk up to the Alhambra. A surreal morning. A piece of grafitti on grafitti.
The result? One of my favourite pictures ever.