Friday, 15 May 2015
I heard you. And I came to you and comforted you as best I could. And I arranged for you to be found and pulled from the puzzle of rock and earth, the eager hands of the rescuers dragging you into the light and showing you off, teary-eyed and widesmiled. I smiled too, and waited.
Monday, 11 May 2015
The sound of the rain on election night was a constant demanding drumming on the roof of the car, like a radio station tuned to white noise whose signal cut out as I passed beneath every one of the seven bridges between work and the polling station. It was, I knew, my democratic right and duty to cast my vote and much depended upon it. The car park, I noted with dismay as I drove into it, was a long way from the entrance. A long wet way under the wet white noise. But still I had my mark to make, and make my mark I must. I locked the car behind me with a brace of beeps. A bundle of fly tipped garbage propped against the wall of the desanctified church that was now a community centre moved unexpectedly and spoke.
“buy your name, mister?”