Year: 2015

The burn was different last week. The night before had brought strong winds and the morning was little better. The water was high and the path strewn with branches. The wind hurried me along. I met a man with a wheelbarrrow. It was full of things he had collected, an archive of the paths we both trod. In some ways his collection and mine are similar, in that I collect words and pictures through walking, he, objects. I don’t know what he did with his things, he said he was very busy somewhere up the road. My foraging brings me back here to tell stories.

Wind.

Twa’ shilpit eyes in a snorkel parka,

hurl January at me full in the face.

Tells me he’s off to a job,

points with a tilt of his fur lined hood

to a place away,

up there,

beyond where we are,

known to him and not me.

Well you better get along I said,

you’re forecast.

Aye, he winks,

inhaling on his no.6

 

                                                

 

David and Stuart.

 

 

The scent of stars on the prairie wind no longer an option –

toy horse found on the pavement by the no.73 bus.

 

A man on a space hopper was stopped by police on a dual carriageway in Dundee at Hogmanay.

Nee naw nee naw.

Wet tea bags thrown out of the window hoping to land on someones head.

Ha ha.

Not to mention…

overflowing beer in the toilet,

Eric Sykesian story about buying a plank,

losing the nozzle on the WD40

and

aliens on the Dighty.

A very  happy new year to everyone at Dighty and for all those stories yet to come…….

 

Bob tells me of

kingfishers in the burn                      

and

kites in the glen.

He looks at his hands and says golf.

The bird man.