Move Him Into The Sun

The morning is crisp like an unbitten apple, waxy sunshine not quite reaching down to the bones. Beneath my feet the artificially aged floorboards of a wannabe hipster cafe which is nonetheless occupied by non-hipster middle-aged spreads and mumsy mums with momma’s-boy/girl toddlers. Outside stands a stretch of what remains of the old city wall, a genuine feat of ancient tech which nobody gives more than a passing glance.

The clatter of plates and crockery takes me back more years than I care to count, to my first proper job in the kitchen of a busy town centre restaurant. For subsistence wages and a plate of sausage and chips I’d spend eight hours a day washing up and helping prep the veg. For months I never quite rid myself of the aroma of stale teabags no matter how often I washed my hands or threw my scuzzy clothes at the Hotpoint.

Strange how well I can remember that seventeen year old after so many intervening years. Perhaps because I am forever grateful to him for working out that menial jobs and pittance pay checks were not what he wanted from life; songs and guitars and making a spectacle of himself were all far more appealing.

I’m less interested in being spectacular now. I’m Wilfred Owen in reverse, wearied by age though I never served my country, only myself. Along the way I picked up enough education to know Owen did not even live to write such reflective words as Binyon’s: the Shropshire lad’s visceral poetry lived and died with him in the trenches; mine has grown stale and saggy.

Coffee revives me or, if not, it bullies my heart and veins into a rapidity that will one day finish me. Until it does I amble and I watch the world from the corner of one eye, the other kept half shut lest the sharper edges of too much reality slash at me.


About planetish

planetary ish
This entry was posted in Blogging, History, Life, Literature, Music, Poetry, War, weather, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Move Him Into The Sun

  1. angharadeyre says:

    I really love your writing. Lovely way to wake up this morning.

    Liked by 1 person

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