I often think.

A Tight Silence In those deep dark moments Before sleep comes I often think of them Would it have been All hushed hugs  Low voiced expressions of love In a tight silence of tenderness With sweet confessions to each other To gain accord To build an affection Which in doing so Gains a strength To their stolen love. Dans Un Silence Étreint Dans ces moments sombres et profonds Avant que le sommeil ne vienne Je pense souvent à eux Cela n'aurait-il été Qu'étreintes secretes Voeux d'amour dits à voix basse Dans un silence étreint de tendresse Avec les doux aveux faits l'un à l'autre Qui créent l'entente Batissent l'affection Et, ce faisant, Gagnent en force Pour leur amour volé. Translation by @Jeffwni, Thanks J.

When I went to university in 1992 I had a few part time jobs to top up my student loans. One of those jobs was on the transport ambulances for the local authority in west London; this involved going to children and elderly persons’ homes and collecting children and elderly people to take them to and from schools and dining or social clubs. I had only been doing the job a few weeks when my route and driver was changed, this wasn’t uncommon. I had a driver, a man called Ernie, my job was to care for the children or elderly people his was purely to drive. Ernie and I went off to do our first collection which was from a residential care home for disabled children. We went in to reception and signed in and ascertained which children we were going to collect that day; it was usually the same children but sometimes illness or other things varied the children that were collected. Today it was only Carl that was to be taken to his day school. Ernie sighed at this news and nudged me. Befo...

I went to my niece’s wedding in Oldham a few years back and it being a warm day I was feeling thirsty.   I ventured out into the wide world from the church venue to buy a couple of bottles of cold water for my wife and myself. Little did I know what problems such an innocuous pursuit would bring me. I found a sandwich shop with such dubious items as ‘Filled Barm Cakes’ advertised in the window. Glancing in their shop window they had bottled water in a chiller cabinet.   Why I had to check first I know not. Did ‘they’ drink water in Oldham? I breezed in and joined the short queue. My turn to be served came, the shop was empty save for me and the few assistants. “Can I have two bottles of water please?” The assistant froze and stared blankly back at me, “Eh?” was all she could manage in reply. Thinking my English was lacking I corrected myself, “May I have two small bottles of water please?” I helpfully pointed to the bottled water in the chill...

There. I‘ve said it in the title. I don’t enjoy living in Cumbria: especially here in west Cumbria. It has nothing for me. It has nothing for us. It only had work for my partner in the first place; the only job that she could get 7 years ago. They soon made her redundant from that and we struggled financially. My partner now works and lives in Sheffield, 36 years of marriage cleaved by living in the wrong place. Why is it considered so heinous a statement to express a dislike of an area? It seems alright for people to say “I couldn’t live in London, Leeds or Manchester.” That is somehow more acceptable and people nod in agreement or express their dislike of big towns. However, say you dislike the sacred, beloved Lake District of Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter and you receive a torrent of approbation; “How can you say that? It’s lovely up there.” Yep. It’s lovely for one or two week’s holiday. Just try 312 sodding consecutive weeks with no break, save for two weeks in Gre...

I   recollect aged about 10 having an argument, a strong disagreement,   with the music teacher at my Primary School. Iin fact it was one of many that I had with her. I don’t why but she just irritated the young David; she was not a soft teacher, she had no hesitation in throwing you out of the room. Possibly that was it, there was physical retribution taken, she was one of the few teachers that didn’t mete out the ruler or cane. I had to test her. Of course I did, it was natural for me to do so. Anyway it started out with her plonking away on the piano as she always did at the start of a ‘lesson’; lesson being a loose term for her didactic approach to teaching, we had to enjoy music, we had no choice. I did in fact love music, I still do.I just found her approach less than welcoming. As she plonked away on the piano for a few minutes we took our places on the floor.   She then dramatically stood up in the way teachers with an artistic bent do a...