Before I begin, I would like to qualify something that persistently haunts me through uninformed critics. It's simply this - to offer sincere critique of your home town, you must unconditionally love that habitat and its roots regardless of all outside stereotypical attacks. When you are comfortable with that, then you may offer your concerns. I have many! And now... I can never decide whether chronology is the way to go or should I reflect in regression. But, after much deliberation I feel the regressive approach to timelines may lead to a boring, tedious, ambiguous, annoying and time-consuming narration... and I’ve said too much already! Subsequently and limited (I hope)... here we go: Unusual and unconventional kid – singled out at school for oddity! Ex fifties/sixties Saturday cinema matinee kid – those American cliffhangers... I was Bruce Gentry and Commander Cody and Blackarrow and the Scarlet Horseman and ‘The’ Batman – but even more so, American Westerns of film and TV where I was the Cisco Kid, Hopalong Cassidy, Bronco Lane and the Range Rider... I shot everyone except my neighbour’s dog Timmy, because he was my horse. Ex sixties beat enthusiast – Animals, Kinks, Pretty Things, Manfred Mann et al... ex late sixties/early seventies underground music – Touch, William R Strickland, Liverpool Scene, Amon Duul, Spirit and a very long list... ex early seventies Hippy, now a modernist Yippy. Writer of extremely naive science fiction as a teen – but at least the imagination and passion was there... later some reasonable short stories and essays. Lingering and sometimes traumatic and frustrating employment – the shoe making years, the landscape gardening years, being the boss, being the scapegoat, being the blacksheep – the latter testing but wonderful! At least you're unique! Teacher, tutor, often writing educational programmes. Much writing on horticulture, nature and design for the built and green environment. Landscape design consultant and in later years, much focus on historic landscapes. Much writing for short and long term conservation management. Today writing serious stuff that pays for what needs to be paid... but dabbling in poetic-essaying – with largely a reference to Wigan, plus personal thoughts and nature. You're never too old and scatterbrained to... errr what was it I meant to say?!!!
The Bobby at the top of Wigan a bobby once stood at the top of Wigan calmly and gracefully orchestrating traffic flawlessly symphonised with rhythm and tempo and harmony synchronized but ultimately shockingly and lamentably he was traded for several sporadic traffic signals with their disco lights ill-programmed juke boxes crammed with scratchy vinyl persistently sticking... drivers rolling up their sleeves in irritation of the newfangled aberration rolling down their windows in frustration of vehicular stagnation to yell like DJs annoyingly relentlessly interrupting the music
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Mickey Dalton (05/07/2018)
Remembering the River Douglas (01/07/2018)
The Lady at Scholes (12/06/2018)
The Landscape Gardener and the Chap on the Telly (07/06/2018)
I Can't Paint, I can Paint (05/06/2018)
The Yellow-Bellied Idles (Homage to J. Milton Hayes) (01/06/2018)
Montrose Avenue, Wigan (24/05/2018)
Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/jrharris
In the beginning...
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