The Pendolino

The Pendolino

So hail this down,
To Euston station

I bid farewell,
To pastures green,

This big red ensign,
She is my carriage,

I'm northern bound,
Await my hugs,

These fields of yellow,
All shapes and sizes,

Cut their way,
Through this green land,

Send out a signal,
To silver chariots,

Soon I'll be,
Right back with them.
Explanation

I was listening to Fare Thee Well Northumberland by my favourite ever musician, Mark Knopfler. It got me thinking about a train ride back home to my parents that I did in the spring of 2011.

The scenery was so beautiful.

In fact, I recorded about a minute of the journey on my phone (it's not too shaky either).



Since then, the experience of that has just been in the junkyard of my brain waiting for some lines to come into my head. Now, after listening to that song a number of times, they have.

So hail this down,
To Euston station,

This refers to hailing a taxi to get up to Euston Station.

I bid farewell,
To pastures green,

Where I live in London, is near several lovely squares (in fact, London is very lucky to have such a large number of green spaces considering it's a big city). So until returning, I bid these scenes farewell.

This big red ensign,
She is my carriage,

To get back to my parents up in the north, I'd use Virgin Trains. The big red ensign is their logo and of course, the train is my carriage.

I'm northern bound,
Await my hugs,

I think this is probably self-explanatory, but if not it's basically saying that I'm off up north to see my lovely family and give them a hug.

These fields of yellow,
All shapes and sizes,

As you can see from the video, the countryside can look beautiful when the fields are glazed in the colours rapeseed. Different trees of all shapes and sizes line the route too. It's really a great way to see the English countryside.

Cut their way,
Through this green land,

This refers to the canals and rivers that can be seen along the way.

Send out a signal,
To silver chariots,

Once I'm on my way, I would always text my Dad to let him know so he can be at the station to meet me and take me the rest of the way to home. At the time he had a silver (or it might've been grey, but silver sounds better!) car.

Soon I'll be,
Right back with them.

Not long now until I'm back home (and can eat proper food!)

Pancake Day

Pancake Day

Upon the horizon,

The dishes emerge,

A thousand flying saucers

Awaiting our welcome,

Settling down on terra firma,

The locals pick up their pitch forks,

First comes the water cannon,

Then a mass of mortars,

Charging forward to devour,

Scoop, fold and tear,

The battle over in minutes,

The invaders never stood a chance,

Satisfied and in need of rest,

The victors await their next fight.

Explanation

Upon the horizon,

The dishes emerge,

Laying out the ingredients to make the pancake. The dishes here are both the frying pans, and also the invading "alien dishes" as a metaphor.

A thousand flying saucers

Awaiting our welcome,

The flying saucers are the stereotypical round shape just like the shape of a pancake. Waiting for the eater/earthlings to meet them.

Settling down on terra firma,

The locals pick up their pitch forks,

As the pancakes are ready and placed onto the plate (terra firma), the eater picks up his/her fork (and probably spoon too)

First comes the water cannon,

Then a mass of mortars,

The water cannon is a metaphor for the lemon juice that will be squirted onto the pancake. Then the mortars would be the fruit to compliment it.

Charging forward to devour,

Scoop, fold and tear,

With the warm, dressed pancake waiting, it's time for the eater to fold it in half, cut it, and nom nom nom.

The battle over in minutes,

The invaders never stood a chance,

Pancakes are yummy so are likely to be eaten quickly!

Satisfied and in need of rest,

The victors await their next fight.

Stuffed and waiting for next year's pancake day!

Holidays in Menorca

Holidays in Menorca

Cotton wool balls and carpets of green,

Seat belt signs, chicken or beef cuisine

The mother gives birth one by one,

Which baby is which, here comes the fun,

Climbing the steps, we await our tales,

Working our way through stoned walled trails,

The aroma rises up and pulls me in,

This big boy's adventure about to begin

Around the windmill and up the steep slope,

The next obstacle I set out to scope,

He's about my age, I'll go say hi,

Guten tag and eins zwei drei,

Going through the motions,

Time for calamine lotion,

The arms and the pages continue to turn,

Remember that cream Phil or you're going to burn,

The teeth come together and pack up those adapters,

These wonderful memories close this latest chapter.

Explanation

This one is about family holidays to the Spanish island of Menorca that I went to three times with my family as a kid - twice to the same place because we loved it so much!

Cotton wool balls and carpets of green,

Seat belt signs, chicken or beef cuisine

This describes the plane journey to get from Manchester to Mahon. I always think that when you push through the clouds that it's like being surrounded by cotton wool. As the skies clear a sea of green fields emerges.

The mother gives birth one by one,

Which baby is which, here comes the fun,

This refers to the baggage carousel at the airports. As the bags come through onto the conveyor belt, everyone realises that despite their best efforts to personalise their own bags that they ultimately all look the same - just as babies do to me!

Climbing the steps, we await our tales,

Working our way through stoned walled trails,

This is about the coach trip from the airport to the hotel. To a little kid, the steps up the bus are quite big and steep. As with these package holidays, there's always a tour guide to chaperone people and tell them information (and usually a story from their lives) during the trip.

The aroma rises up and pulls me in,

This big boy's adventure about to begin,

I remember where we staying that there were a couple of bakeries that sold delicious bread. It really was yummy (well it must have been if I still remember it 20 years later). I was sometimes entrusted to be a big boy and go collect the fresh morning bread. Magical smells and taste!

Around the windmill and up the steep slope,

The next obstacle I set out to scope,

Opposite our apartment complex was a crazy golf course which I played on quite a lot.

He's about my age, I'll go say hi,

Guten tag and eins zwei drei,

It's always nice for kids to make friends on holidays. I was no different. Oddly enough, I always used to make friends with German kids. The one I remember, probably because for a while we stayed in touch was a boy called Marcus. He was about the same age as me - so around 10 maybe? We got on pretty well and would go off swimming/playing golf etc! Guten tag and eins zwei drei is about all the German I learnt.

Going through the motions,

Time for calamine lotion,

I always used to suffer quite badly with prickly heat when abroad. Fortunately, I don't remember it stopping me from enjoying myself though.

The arms and the pages continue to turn,

Remember that cream Phil or you're going to burn,

Luckily, I didn't burn either. Probably because I was made to wear lots and lots of sun cream. So while I was swimming (arms turning) and my parents reading (pages turning), I'd be fully protected against the sun's rays.

The teeth come together and pack up those adapters,

These wonderful memories close this latest chapter.

As the holiday came to a close, the bags would be packed, filled with dirty washing and zipped up, complete with those special plugs you need when traveling abroad. And so ended the great holiday.

The Innocence of Childhood

The Innocence of Childhood

I gave my hands to these rainbows

To go and see this bright pot of gold

My locks of hair, they dance around,

Just like the notes from my guitar

My spacesuit adorned

To run, scream and shout,

Hold on so tight,

Kick back and ride,

To try and reach,

Those stars afar,

My giggles on show for all to see,

Push me Mum, push!

Jobs, economy and 'leccy bills,

They shall no longer affect my thrills.

Explanation

I gave my hand to these rainbows

The colourful gloves worn by a child

To go and see this bright old pot of gold

Go go outside and play in the sunshine

My locks of hair, they dance around,

Just like the notes from my guitar

How the wind catches the child's hair and blows it around, just as notes dance out of a musician's instrument

My spacesuit adorned

To run, scream and shout,

All wrapped up in warm coat and scarf to go have a laugh

Hold on so tight,

Kick back and ride,

To try and reach,

Those stars afar,

The fun of just playing on a swing and making it work, going higher and higher to reach for the stars

My giggles on show for all to see,

This would be the breath coming from laughter visible in the cold air

Push me Mum, push!

(or take photos or whatever)

Jobs, economy and 'leccy bills,

They shall no longer affect my thrills

A little reminder that we should all take some time occasionally to revisit our inner child, forget about bills and all that rubbish and just enjoy some moments.

The Fifth of November

The Fifth of November

Darkness falls by five,

The skies begin to come alive,

Friends and neighbours young and old,

Huddled up against the cold

Hats and scarves and gloves and coats

The whizzes and bangs sound out their notes,

Potatoes wrapped up in their tin jackets,

One by one they leave their packets,

Carving our names in the cold air,

The men of the house fireworks prepared,

Lighting the fuse and standing well back,

We launch to the sky our nighttime attack,

The whooshes, the whizzes the ooh's and the ahh's,

This annual tradition written amongst the stars

Explanation

Although it's a long way until bonfire night, a conversation on Facebook the other day tickled some neurons and I wrote this.

Darkness falls by five,

The skies begin to come alive,

Once the clocks have gone back at end of October and bonfire night arrives, it is comfortably dark by 5pm. On bonfire night itself (and usually each weekend either side if it falls during the working week), the skies are awash with fireworks exploding into the sky.

Friends and neighbours young and old,

Huddled up against the cold,

For our family, when I was a kid, our family, our next door neighbours and some friends from up the road all got together either at ours or the next door neighbours. Young children, our parents (who as they were above 30 were ancient to us!) all gathered together. Obviously, it's November in the UK, so it's actually not exactly the most inviting weather. Still, if it stays dry, it's not too bad.

Hats and scarves and gloves and coats

The whizzes and bangs sound out their notes,

As the evening goes on, other families would be having their fireworks, and the sky would be illuminated for many hours as if somehow there was an invisible orchestra set up to play in the sky.

Potatoes wrapped up in their tin jackets,

One by one they leave their packets,

For some reason, I always remember that we would have hot jacket potatoes wrapped up in silver tin foil. One by one....refers to both the jacket potatoes being eaten, but also the sparklers being taken out of their packets.

Carving our names in the cold air,

The men of the house fireworks prepared,

I think, and hope that it's impossible for someone to be given a sparkler and not want to write something with it, probably their names. The men of the house isn't in any way shape or form intended to be a sexiest term. But the lighting of fireworks did seem to be a "man's job", at least back then. Perhaps it's the whole "I am man, I make fire" thing!

Lighting the fuse and standing well back,

We launch to the sky our nighttime attack,

Always have to make sure that the fuse is lit and then everyone is standing well back! And then the sky above us lights up with colour.

The whooshes, the whizzes the ooh's and the ahh's,

This annual tradition written amongst the stars.

This is just the "ooh's and ahh's" sounds people make when watching fireworks, and this tradition between these friends and families reaches its peak.

Mindful

Mindful

The lights of town twinkle brightly below,

Just like the whooshing river, my thoughts seem to flow,

This peace around me so calm and so quiet,

My mood it seems, well she predicts a riot,

The clouds rush in, they grow and bubble up,

Universally speaking it's a storm in a teacup

The thunder, the lighting, the wind and the rain,

It feels like a freight-trains running right through my brain,

I stop and I pause, I take a step back,

I offer myself the following feedback,

Pay attention, don't judge, just watch, let it be,

For these wonderful brain are just thoughts do you see?

Lets watch these clouds change, lets see the rain slow,

The allowance of something, shall allow it to go,

The storm has come and the storm has passed,

The strength in my mind remains strong and steadfast.

Explanation

I'm going to leave out an explanation for this one. Please do with it as you wish for your own experiences with anger.

London Victoria

London Victoria

The mestre's whistle sounds,

To signal the passistas arrival,

Choreographed to perfection,

Eyes fixed in this moment,

The panning for gold,

Roses for my darling,

The wind of the wicked cheers,

Flow through on gust into the arena,

Moving teeth and wheels,

The chatter echos round,

Lead down towards the gates,

To pass the yellow jacket

A hug to show love actually,

That's my boy. That's your boy!

Explanation

Quite a long explanation here by the way....!

This one is about an experience I had recently at London Victoria train station. My Mum had been to stay with me for a few days. At the end of her visit, I went with her up to the train station, London Victoria and various things that I noticed whilst there shook the neuron tree. This is what fell out.

The mestre's whistle sounds,
To signal the passistas arrival,

OK, so in this part, there is an analogy of samba, which I really like. The "mestre" is a kind of leader of the "bateria" - the drumming part of a samba school and due to the loud noise produced uses a whistle as part of the directing. "Passistas are the best dancers of the school - male and female - who will take part in representing the school in shows and carnival."[1]. In the analogy, the mestre's whistle is the whistle used by train conductors to signal the departure of a train so people can make sure they're on board. The "passistas arrival" is just the large number of people who are in the station, whether waiting for a train or waiting to meet someone. As members of the human race, they're pretty amazing creatures, so are amongst the best - not as in "we're better than animals" kind of thing, but just as in all the attributes and abilities we possess, physically, neurologically etc.

[1] = Thanks to my friend Karla from the London School of Samba for providing this explanation.

Choreographed to perfection,
Eyes fixed in this moment,

Continuing the dancing theme here. This part explains something that always amazes me. How, in places like train stations, or just busy streets for that matter more people don't bump into each other. If you observe this closely, it's really a beautiful piece of choreography, just like a talented dance troupe taking to the stage. It might not have the finesse of something like Riverdance, but the randomness and accuracy is actually quite beautiful. Now, apparently, the reason this happens is because in most cases (I've been paying close attention to this and it does seem to be the case), when we see someone coming towards us, once they get into striking distance, both parties will very briefly make eye contact with one another just to manage the space around them. Because both do this it stops them bumping into each other. It's very very subtle, but next time you're out in a busy place, spend a few minutes doing it. It must be subconscious, but to me anyway, rather fascinating!

The panning for gold,
Roses for my darling,

This part refers to the plethora (I love that word. Please use it lots if ever you're around me) of shops and food outlets found in big stations, in this case London Victoria. The panning for gold refers to the crispy golden brown look that you get on chips/French fries that you might get at a Burger King or McDonalds - both of which can be found in London Victoria. The roses refer to two things. The flower stands scattered around the station - I like to imagine men buying a bunch of roses for their wife to apologise for having to work late again. Also they refer to "Roses", which are a brand of box of chocolates that you can buy in shops such as WH Smiths - also a shop found in Victoria. So basically this just refers to the shops and the people stopping off in them to make a purchase.

The wind of the wicked cheers,
Flow through on gust into the arena,

Although there are doors/gates at the station which I presume can be closed, whenever the station is open, all the entrances are left wide open which gives a semi-open feel to the station. The other day when I went up with my Mum, there was quite a strong wind, which can be sucked in through these entrances into the station. I like to imagine that these gusts are caused by people who are seeing a performance of the musical Wicked at the Apollo Victoria Theatre on Wilton Road, which is also one of the roads you can access the station from.

Moving teeth and wheels,
The chattering echos round,

The moving teeth refers to the (lets use that word again!) plethora of people talking -- perhaps to others in person, or more likely on their mobile phones. The moving wheels and link with the chattering refers to the "chatter chatter" noise heard. Not chattering as in speaking, but by the onomatopoeic sound of "chatter". In essence it's the noise of suitcase wheels running over the ground as they're wheeled around the station.

Lead down towards the gates,
To pass the yellow jacket

When I was with my Mum waiting, we were watching the departure board to see what platform her train would be leaving from. Once she figured out which one, she lead me towards the area. There is an additional thing here though. Lead in this case is phonetically pronounced "LED", which also speaks to the LED (Light-emitting diodes) used to light up the departure boards. The yellow jacket refers to a man who was standing at the gates where you put your ticket. He was dressed in a yellow high visibility jacket. This man reminded me a little of the late Michael Duncan - i.e. he was a cool big black dude basically (am I allowed to say that? I'm always terrified of saying the wrong thing. Please correct me if this is not appropriate!). The fact he had black skin, when combined with his yellow high-vis jacket, also reminded me of the beautiful species of wasp (I hate wasps but they're beautiful behind glass!) the yellow jacket which often have distinct black and yellow markings.

A hug to show love actually,
That's my boy. That's your boy!

These kinds of scenes where people are greeting and saying goodbye to loved on reminds me a lot of the opening scene to my favourite film, Love Actually. Now, the "That's my boy. That's your boy!" bit. Later that day when I spoke to my Mum on the phone after she had got back home, she said to me "Did I notice the black man standing next to the gate? I could. And "Did I remember that he was kind of looking at us in an "aren't they a close family" way"?. I could. Well, apparently as we gave each other a hug and say our goodbyes, I went off in the other direction and as she went through the gate, he looked at her and she said to him "That's my boy!". And he just replied in this really cool "yeaaah baby" accent with "Thaaats your boy!!!" So cute :)

For April

For April

We've never met you,

But care we oh so do,

Thousands even millions,

Dressed in pink ribbons,

That big bad man, 

He can't hurt you now,

The last things you heard and saw,

Forget those missy, you've a job to do,

It's time to be a big girl now,

And look after your Mum & Dad,

Look down when they are sad,

Give them something nice to think,

Your pretty smile will always remain,

Just now, it's the twinkle in the stars,

Sweet dreams April.

Explanation

I'm not putting an explanation for this one. Please just take from it what you will. It was really just my way of getting some thoughts down about how horrible this is.

The Interrogation

The Interrogation

Out in the dark,

Behind enemy lines,

Foraging for food,

Barren, lifeless, and cold

The signs of defeat flash round,

Step out into open space,

The enemy force,

Bound and gagged,

Sitting in the stress position,

Remember to be the grey man,

The interrogation begins,

Name, rank and number!

Name, rank and number!

Name, rank and number!

Sizing up the quizmaster,

I make my escape,

The interrogation reaches its end,

Beaten and hopeful I pleased my captors,

We wait...

Explanation

This one uses the analogy of a soldier captured behind enemy lines and interrogated after being tortured to express the feelings of having to go for an "assessment" with a mental health professional (e.g. a psychology appointment), especially where the person who is having something like anxiety or depression (anything I write that involves mental health is more neurosis, than psychosis) has been here many times before and knows the drill, but has to go through it because it's what's done.

Out in the dark,
Behind enemy lines,

This represents the sense of succumbing to the illness. It's a dark, lonely place and not where any one wants to be.

Foraging for food,
Barren, lifeless, and cold,

The soldier would be searching for food, but finding nothing and getting really concerned at the lack of available nourishment. This matches the idea that the person suffering from ill health might already be trying to seek some avenues of help, but not really finding anything and becoming even more desperate. Trying to navigate ones way through a complex health service when ill is incredibly difficult and demoralising.

The signs of defeat flash round, 
Step out into open ground,

The signs of defeat in the soldiers case are the realisation that he is going to have to give himself up, because although he may be treated badly, there may also be the opportunity for food, water, warmth. To do this, he must step out onto open ground, in full view of the hunter force. In the case of the "sufferer", it's realising that more intensive help is now required and you have to make that oh so difficult walk along to the Dr's/health centre/emergency room and say those horrible words of "I need help" which feel like defeat is being admitted. The "flash around" part in the case of the soldier is the torches/gun lasers being projected onto him. In the case of the patient's, it's probably more like flashbacks to the previous experience of illness.

The enemy force,
Bound and gagged

This refers to the capture taking place. The soldier is bound and gagged, the patient feels trapped, and in this case, the mouth gagged refers to the horrible sensation of a tight throat due to nerves.

Sitting in the stress position,
Remember to be the grey man,

Sitting in the stress position, is of course in the soldier's case being held in the stress position, which is a method used in torture which leads to intense muscular pain. For the patient, it is the Dr's/health centre's waiting room, which are usually pretty depressing places! Being the grey man....for the military scenario, it is a tip often given to special forces soldiers in the event they're captured, which is basically not to draw attention to themselves, by being neither too quiet or too raucous. For the patient, it's basically keeping yourself to yourself, especially if there are several people in the waiting room. Ultimately, none of them wants to be there and doesn't want to be the one to make it obvious they're the one who's gone over to the dark side.

The interrogation begins,
Name, rank and number!

So, the interrogation begins! Under the Geneva convention for the treatment of prisoners of war, a prisoner is only required to give his/her name, rank and number. This could be repeated many times over, especially as the captured may choose to say nothing. In the case of the patient, it refers to the barrage of questions which he/she has been asked many times and the situation is all too familiar. It's not that they don't appreciate and understand that this is what needs to be done, but there's only so many times someone can be asked "and are you feeling suicidal at the moment" before thinking "Well no, but having to answer this question 50 times kinda doesn't help with the feelings of not wanting to!"

Name, rank and number!
Name, rank and number!

The same old same old questions continue. Maybe a CD could be given to them before hand which began with "Hi there Mr/Mrs practitioner......So I know what questions you're gonna ask me already....here are the answers you need. I've gone to make a cup of tea and will be back in an hour." Just a thought.

Sizing up the quizmaster,
I make my escape,

This is where the patient will also be assessing the mental health professional who's asking the questions. Do they seem to get me? Are there misinterpreting things? Do they seem to be making an effort? Are they in the right job?. The "making escape" part actually isn't about escaping from the session or anything like that but in case, the patient using avoidance techniques to steer clear, or skirt around the edges of the very sensitive topics, which although need to be dealt with, are often very hard to talk about. So, things like changing the subject, asking about their family (that one works wonders!) are all techniques. Best to avoid doing that.

The interrogation reaches its end,
Beaten and hopeful I pleased my captors,

So, the interrogation is over. It's been challenging, upsetting. There is a sense though of "I hope this person has got it, because it feels like my chance to be content in life, lies in a large part with how they do their write up".

We wait...

And that's all the patient can do really. Wait, hope, try to keep treading water.

The Sniper's Shot

The Sniper's Shot

Zero six hundred,

The brief comes in,

The target located,

The light is green,

Sighting your scope,

Checking spare ammo,

The hard routine begins,

A five klick tab,

Settling into position,

Amidst the undergrowth,

Caressing the dials,

Forefinger is primed,

Target down,

Now hold your fire,

A gentle click,

Change of magazine,

Mission complete,

Return to base,

Briefing room projection,

Assess the results,

Kit cleaned and packed away,

Ready for the next call.

Explanation

OK, so this one is actually about a photographer going out to take photographs, using the analogy of a military sniper undertaking a mission and drawing parallels between the two.

Zero six hundred,
The brief comes in,

This is when the photographer will decide the best time to go out and take the pictures. Perhaps considering what time dusk might be, or when there might be the most/least traffic. Looking at maps, using Street View, looking at other photographs - all similar to how a military briefing might occur to disseminate the intelligence gathered.

The target located,
The light is green,

OK, so they know what they want to photograph, and possibly under what considerations. It's time to set off.

Sighting your scope,
Checking spare ammo,

This is an analogy of a special forces sniper checking all their kit before embarking upon their mission and comparing it with a photographer checking they have all theirs. Tripod, lenses, spare battery, memory card.

The hard routine begins,
A five klick tab,

A hard routine in military terms is where a small patrol of special forces, for example the SAS will create a hideout and stay there for a long time assessing the situation, deciding when best to "go noisy". A klick is slang for a kilometer, and tab is a British Army acronym for "Tactical Advance to Battle". So this really just suggests there may be a walk to get to the best vantage point and setting.

Settling into position,
Amidst the undergrowth,

Again, this draws comparisons between a sniper getting himself set up in an inconspicuous position and a photographer trying to get just the right spot and holding themselves in a rigid position if not using a tripod.

Caressing the dials,
Forefinger is primed,

This is how a sniper would delicately manipulate the settings on his sighting scope, and refers this back to a photographer selecting the options on the camera for things such as shutter speed, aperture and so on. The forefinger is of course in the snipers case what rests on the trigger ready to release the bullet. In the photographer's case, it's the "take photo" button.

Target down,
Now hold your fire,

The photo has been taken/subject shot. The sniper would not move, just keep still for a moment, as would the photographer, just to let that extra split second take place so there is no jerk in the camera.

A gentle click,
Change of magazine,

The gentle click is the release (depending on which camera) of the battery release button to insert a new battery (although if their battery only last one photo, they should really consider purchasing a new camera!). In the sniper's case, they may have to change magazines to put in a new bullet.

Mission complete,
Return to base,

OK, so photographs are taken, nasty terrorists are shot, it's time to return to base/home.

Briefing room projection,
Assess the results,

Here comes the fun part! Have any of your photos actually come out, or is it a cacophony or blurry lights? In the sniper's case, it's reviewing any footage there might be, or listening to intelligence to find out whether the shot was a success.

Kit cleaned and packed away,
Ready for the next call.

The guns, the lenses, the camera are all cleaned and ready for their next outing.