• Remembrance Day
    Haiku for Nympsfield War Memorial As I write these lines, The young men of the village Arrive for the match. Nympsfield village, Catholic sanctuary, High-up on the wolds. And at the cross-roads, A sentinel-crucifix Honouring the dead. This cross, once shattered, Lying in some forlorn hope, Out in No Man’s Land. Brought here from the […]
  • The Early 1950s: “Seen but not Heard”
    Steam trains whistling through the night, Wagons buffering up in the marshalling yards, The milk man with his early morning horse and cart, ‘Papers and comics land with a thwack in the hall; Eggs, bacon, tea and toast drift up the stairs, But the lino’s cold beneath your feet, Frost-art etched on your bedroom window […]
  • He Even Makes the Trains Run On Time
    It was déjà vu all over again, But with a football boot in the present: Trains full of fans but without the toilet rolls; A minibus of men but stone cold sober; One woman in a pub – reading a kindle; Swindon railway village, now full of cars; Union Jack flags, “Swindon Till I die”, […]
  • Fascist Football Managers
    Wordsworth grew up fostered alike by beauty and by fear, I grew up on trains, football, politics and beer: “No platform for Fascists” was the cry And “Swindon until I die”; Now the steam is locked in a museum, The railway works is a shopping mall, The pubs have bouncers, Donald Rogers has 2 artificial […]
  • Walking away from the Game
    I am going on the march on Saturday, And not watching football because “It’s the same the whole world over, It’s the poor wot gets the blame, It’s the rich wot gets the pleasure Aint it all a crying shame”: For example, the institutions that give countries a credit rating Are not neutral observers and […]