All posts tagged: poetry

Memories of spring

I’ve written a poem, and as that’s something I rarely do, I thought I’d share it here. In the midst of this parched and listless summer, it’s a reminder of the soft, dewy spring. While I’m here, let me say that everything is good, even if the endless sun has found me impatiently hopping from foot to foot, watching the clouds for rain. We’ve been busy. In the past month we’ve been to Venice (to talk to a man about a wedding), and the Lake District (to eat a 10 course tasting menu of dreams). And in two weeks we’re going to the South of France. It’s been a good summer. Memories of a Spring Each week I watch the quiet journey of spring along the A-roads leading from the North West to the east East. The furthest east that you can go. The place where elderflower grows too fast, blooming and bursting and heavy with scent, foaming from the side of the road, always drying up too quick to make cordial. Next year, next Read More

Venice is a peach

In January, Venice is a peach. The velvet skin of her buildings – oversaturated in the glare of summer – blushes now in this hazy light. For the most part, she is the yellow kind, her plaster blooming with red, cream, ochre, that where chipped and peeled reveals the flesh of the fruit. There are bruises too, that from afar could be mistaken for shadow. But sometimes Venice is a white peach, like in the campi at three o’clock when stark churches begin to yield to January’s haze. Their walls soften, and the pearl-like light casts shadows of pink and quietens the darkness from their door. Here it is like the fruits are ripening, and soon spring will tease the nectar from them and we will bask in those sweet Venetian afternoons once more. On days like this, wrap up warm and walk to Fondamenta dei Ormesini in Cannaregio. The best bars (Al Timon, Paradiso Perduto, Birreria Zanon) will be stirring from their January holidays by now, and in the early afternoon the light will Read More