Speedway Tracks And Ramblers

The cows look at me
As if to say: that's unusual

They stare for quite a long time
Before returning to the chewing of the cud
Before returning to the grazing of the grass

For now I am normal
A firm part of the establishment
It is I who now look out
For the irregular, for the newcomers

I move up the road a piece
Find a new place to park my car

Between the old gate posts
There is a broken gate
Untidily repaired;  supported

By a sheet of corrugated tin
And a strip of reinforcement mesh
As used to give ready mixed concrete
Strength and guidance

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Up Top

I pass eight cars from Hamburg
Or Munich, or Berlin
That's my little joke, yes
I know my jokes are wearing thin

I dreamt of being made redundant
Though I know those hopes are slim
I am at once, the one last incumbent
I wear it, with the thinnest of grins

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Room

It feels like a good space
I felt that all along
I built it mostly at my own pace
Some things went surprisingly right
Some things went mysteriously wrong

A soft spot for love of creativity
So pictures on the walls
A search for pureness of divinity
A good place
To face up, and gently bathe the soul

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Redundant :: No Such Luck

I got to the site, somewhere near Birmingham, reasonably early, but the gateman said my colleague Phil was already looking at the job with the engineer; I went and found them, Phil had some drawings, and said he was almost done, he pointed to a couple of areas and said we could talk about them later.

I wondered whether to go straight home from the site visit, or to go back to the office, unusually I chose the second option. Back in the office, which was laid out like my school chemistry classroom, I was looking for my boss Kevin, but he wasn't about.

I really don't understand this job, it seems to be all large, above ground ductwork, and civil engineering, not a jot of interest for a fine-tuned electrical engineer like myself.

I was told that there was a meeting in the yard, and that I ought to go. I really didn't want to go, not my type of thing, but reluctantly I went along.

It was like a prison exercise yard; all along the back wall, beneath the fence, stood men with signs; like road signposts, but made out of blackboard material; they had messages scrawled on them, in chalk.

Steve said I should go and see one of the organisers, and get myself a board, because it was about redundancy. I went and joined a short queue, my name was number 3 on the list; they gave me a noticeboard and wrote a date on it, which was the 3rd of August, yes that's right, today's date.

I went back and stood by my music friend Steve, he said wasn't I the lucky one, to be made redundant so soon.

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Classrooms And Bus Stops

I was late, or rather I had turned up for a bus that wasn't due. It was a busy square, in a small Cotswold town, I was supposed to be going to college in Gloucester. I had caught the earlier bus yesterday, and just assumed they would be every hour, they aren't, not another until teatime.

I was supposed to hand in my presentation: An Answer to Six Questions. I had twice revised my PowerPoint slides and was feeling pretty good about my answers. I had got some classy artistic images to accompany the neat text.

Then a colleague told me that we were supposed to be answering the questions as seven year old children, not seasoned executives. I panicked, all that work wasted by setting off in the wrong direction, by not clearly reading and understanding the instructions, by not being attentive, nor listening clearly to the teachers guidance.

I did see my answers at the time, my well framed answers, yet now I can neither recollect the answers, or the questions.

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