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THE BOTANIC GARDEN: SEPTEMBER
 
After days of wind and rain, a perfect autumn morning: sunshine, light winds, blue skies flounced with cloud. At the garden’s original entrance, the steps are edged with pots of the lovely Verbena bonariensis made to share their space with dahlias, gold and orange, poking their noses in, bobbing about in the breeze.... 

​LOW DOWN & DIRTY
 
The soils of the Botanic Garden are silts and sands derived from the flood plain of the River Cam... These soils are about 1 metre in depth and overlie a layer of chalk and flints. This soil is stony, light and free draining, and rapidly dries out after rain.
                                                                                    Cambridge University Botanic Garden 2014
 
 
Soil is an almost magical substance, a living system that transforms the materials it encounters, making them available to plants. [A handful] contains more micro-organisms than all the people who have ever lived on Earth. Yet we treat it like, well, dirt.
                                                                                                George Monbiot: March 2015
 
 
Welcome to my world.
Quickfire, cocksure, firm yet fleet of foot, solid or slippery, rippling but rooted, both elephantine and ethereal, sharp-toothed and silver-tongued
LISTEN!
I am not what you think
I have many voices
When the air is dry, and the breeze light, a whispering in your ear
That susurration you imagine is only the wind in the trees
That is ME! –
A sibillant insinuation of secrets or spells
The grains of me rubbing against each other
Afloat on the air.
I can be subtle,
I can do sotto voce, pianissimo
Or I can be silent, holding my breath, so that you forget I exist
But I am always here, there, in the dust on your sleeve or under your feet
Living, breathing, watching, waiting
And I can ROARRR...!


                            
                                                                         [from Writing the Garden: September's vignette and short story]
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Writing the Garden: no publisher for the book yet. But thanks to Litro online for publishing 'Inside' in their Story Sunday slot, and to Anglia Ruskin for including 'Heartsease' and 'Classical Studies' in their creative writing anthology ​Crisp. 

Thanks also to The Real Story who published 'Home', my short hymn to Cumbria in their on-line magazine in April.

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DANCE AND PARKINSON'S

The English National Ballet/Dance for Parkinson's classes continue in Ipswich. I get there when I can. It's a wonderful scheme and a warm and welcoming group that I'm proud to be even an occasional part of - for a taste of what's on offer try these short videos:

     https://vimeo.com/192162744      https://vimeo.com/194509792      https://vimeo.com/193094242 

Next term's programme, based on the Company's production of La Sylphide and MacMillan's Song of the Earth, begins on 27th September

Nearer home, there are two new ventures in Dance for Parkinson's: a series of dance exercise classes under the ENGAGE banner is well underway at the Frank Lee Centre at Addenbrookes and Jan Green is also teaching dance for people with Parkinson's in Harston.

Meanwhile I continue my active and passionate interest in Argentine tango. As for the book...

                 I'm thinking a new title - Parkinson's & the Tango Effect

What do  you think? I'm also planning to try the crowd-funding publisher Unbound:  watch this space...

      [Publishers: remember the cabaceo - a glance of the eye, a nod of the head is all it takes...]


THE STATION MASTER: THE NOVEL
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PicturePhoto: Veselin Malinov
Almost 18 months since our trip to Bulgaria. We managed to fit in a brief visit to Elhovo, one of the main settings for the novel. It’s bigger than I expected, a sprawl of a place whose centre is difficult to locate. It’s also the first place where we were aware of foreign (that is, British) incursions: a group at the next table loudly English, their bare limbs reddened by the sun, and down the road a bar which advertises English food. The railway proved more elusive: try asking for a disused station when you don’t know the language – No, no trains now. But the waiter in the café eventually pointed vaguely down the road opposite and he was right. Six years since Veselin’s pictures were taken, the buildings have fallen further into disrepair. The weeds have grown, hiding the tracks almost completely in places, but it’s all still there. I feel that tremor of recognition which has been missing as we’ve walked through the town.


Back in the UK, I work on the novel, taking myself off to Norfolk for the summer where I complete the first draft. I stay in touch with the Cambridge Refugee Support networks and spend another weekend helping sort donations in the Calais warehouse for refugees living in the camps in Calais and Dunkirk. During the coming months I edit and revise, taking on board suggestions from three writer friends. But really at this point I'm stuck: how finished is the book, really? Is it good enough to send out?  What I need is a full manuscript appraisal from an expert...


STOP PRESS!

​THE STATION MASTER WINS ADVENTURES IN FICTION'S SPOTLIGHT COMPETITION FOR DEBUT NOVELISTS earning a full manuscript appraisal and profile of book and author on the Adventures in Fiction website   

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