Quiet now

It is quiet
Just bird calls around our camper van
Gentle dusk drawing down
Ginger tea comforts
Still

The mind is not quiet
Assimilating a day of images and conversations
Slowly connecting conflicting concepts.
To make the most difference
Wait.
Be patient

Nine hundred pans and pots
A mountain of blankets
A staircase of tents
Boxes on boxes of tins.

A light sandy pitch for football
Scattered with empty tear gas canisters
Populated by a cast of hundreds
Playing, laughing at times, curious
Singing, looking for ways out, sad
Questioning, why are we here, smile.
It is Gods will.

The main road passes by cafes
Water taps, simple shops,
Stagnant grey water
Gathered people
All
Trying to make a sense of it.
As I do.
I am free to go where I want.
They are not.

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From Morecambe to Calais

Sunday morning

To the south coast
Carrying
Trays of tins, cooking oil, tea bags
Bags of socks, coats, boots
A wallet of cash for gas
Accordion, drums and a trumpet
People’s wishes and hopes
And thoughts.

As we go to help
We will also witness
What people can’t see through the media
And bring back images
And changed selves
To, presumably,
Carry on with our lives
In our northern seaside town

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4 DAYS TO GO

4 DAYS TO GO

I’ve started to pack and collect the gear I need for this rather mad journey.. loads of sessions, shows and meetings in 3 different cities… all working up to a plan for the long term development of community music in the region…