Across Continents

Ken's Blog

Poetic welcome

February 17th, 2012

We had a visit ’round this time

From Ken from Outward Bound,

Who’s cycling up and down the World

Raising money as he goes around.

Four years he thinks he’ll pedal on

Through all the types of weather,

Meeting people everywhere

We think he is quite clever!

If I’d had sense I’d have retired to bed several hours before I actually did. But I was too tired for that. Besides I wanted to chat. Even if I found myself frequently loosing the thread of the conversation. Ever decreasing lucidity.

Earlier, interviews finally completed, photos taken and cake cut, I’d joined my Mum and Dad for afternoon tea with friends in the village. Then a hasty rummage in my panniers, extracting things I’d need for the next few days before loading my trusty steed into the back of my parents car. They’d be taking her back to their garage for safe keeping. I’d follow in a few days.

I’d a plan to spend a couple of nights staying with my neighbours, my own cottage still rented out. If I’d felt at all weary after such an intense day, the rush of emotion as I’d stepped inside their home pushed it quickly aside. For a while at least. Tantalising aromas from the kitchen beyond. Soft heat from the woodstove. Tea in the pot.

A few items of post that’d turned up in my own cottage next door. Amongst them a Christmas card from the Shapland family. I’d stayed with them out near Brisbane. Inside a newsletter with a twist. A poem. Twenty eight carefully crafted verses. Wonderful.

[Quotation above courtesy of the Shapland family – Mike, Mandy and Felicity – with whom I’d stayed back in Brisbane, Australia. And especial thanks to neighbours Jon and Helen, and Sue and Roger, for their generous hospitality]

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Poetry in motion

July 7th, 2011

Nikki(1)

Today’s Kiwese word or phrase: "Brists". Chickens have a couple of these

Was it poetry I was writing, she’d asked? Seen me scribbling in a small pocket book. The sort, she explained, writers used for composition. Not exactly, I’d replied. Had once tried Haiku. But that was quite a while ago. Decades.

Nikki was from San Francisco. Fellow bus passenger. Spreading her wings after a spell in an urban winery. Everything but the vineyards she explained. Heading south towards the Franz Josef glacier.

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