My inheritance

I love a good sentence, they’re always a joy

it’s something I learned from my dad as a boy

he left school at 14 as people did then

but always was good with a paper and pen

he used to write poems and now, so do I

they’re not very good but I do like to try

in fact, if you wait just a moment or two

I’ll write one right now especially for you

No, don’t go away, just tarry awhile

I’ll jot down a verse with a guaranteed smile

Just switch off your phone and turn up your ears

put worries aside and forget all your fears

now listen to you, switch off all the rest

listen to feelings deep down in your breast

listen to smells of the world on your skin

listen to air as you’re breathing it in

listen to images deep in your brain

listen to comfort, forget all the pain

listen to sights of places you’ve known

listen to loved ones although you’re alone

Now switch on the world and turn up the gain

listen to colours and listen to rain

talk to the birds and sing with the flowers

walk on the wind for hours and hours

hear what the horses and cows have to say

don’t interrupt when the grass wants to play

Whatever you’re doing do it with glee

smell, taste, and listen to all that you see

Now, wasn’t that worth it, are you not glad

that I inherited paper and pen from my Dad


I really hope he doesn’t!

I’m having three trees removed on Friday!

Numbers 1 and 3, in a line of 4, that I planted a few years ago have now become too big. They are crowding each other so much that they are all in danger of dying, unless they get more space to prosper.

The third cull will be a sycamore that I have allowed to grow for the last 20 years. It’s a magnificent tree but hardly fit for the garden of a 3-bed semi. It’s already 30 feet tall and has a long way to go yet. Well, it would have, if I hadn’t decided it should be converted to compost!

In preparation, I have been rescuing lots of Clematis that enjoy climbing trees, just as I did as a young lad. I’ve pulled some out of their home, to be later encouraged to climb trellis or other trees. Others I have cut back, and will speak nicely to them to encourage re growth.

I’ve also rescued the cabling to some solar lights so that Joe, the tree man (and concreting, gardening, paving, and fencing if you so wish) does not slice through it with his chain saw.

This afternoon I took out all the bird feeders and the bird – house (vacant possession assured). I shall be able to clean them thoroughly before replacing. A long overdue process!

Shortly after I got back inside there was a violent knocking at the door! “What the bloody hell have you done with my dinner?” demanded the Chaffinch.

I explained what I had done, and why, and that I had put alternative feeders on the stand in the middle of the garden.

“Not good enough!” he said. “I, and my family, need the cover of the trees to be safe whilst we are eating.”

I apologized profusely and told him that the feeders would all be back in place on Friday afternoon.

“Not much use to me and my family”, he said. “I might have to find somewhere else to eat”

With that, he stormed off in a flurry of feathers!

I talk to the trees………..

Not only do I talk to the trees, I talk to all manner of things.

Each morning I go for a walk.

I have various routes, but all take in fields, woodland, the River Erewash, the Erewash canal, bridges, a main road, and suburban streets.

Some days I hardly see a living soul, others I see far too many!

My normal route takes me down my road, which has only some 9 houses. At the bottom of the road I have my first conversation, with a brazen hussy who rolls on the ground and will not let me pass before she is satisfied. Somewhere close by her brother will be watching. He is more timid and undemanding. Their Mummy lives at the end house and thinks they are both boys!

I explain that I have to get on, and continue on my way. She follows, then runs ahead. It is a constant game and she appears insatiable. Then she is gone! I shout after her “See you tomorrow.”

I move on down the rough pathway between fields and say hello to the 3 well kept horses to my left. They have a large, well maintained field, and shelter from the elements. A cat lives in the field with them and is fed, along with the horses, often joined by a pair of Mallard ducks and two very tame crows.

On the other side of the path there are numerous horses, not so well kept. They live in a huge field which is not maintained and often floods. They have no shelter save for the trees. The hedges call out for some old fashioned hedge laying and this fact started me off as an urban guerrilla gardener!

A few years ago I decided that I would nurture any spurious saplings I found growing in my garden. I plant then up into pots and grow them on until they are big enough to carry down the road, down the path, and they then happen to end up growing at the side of this field!

Last year I took this a stage further and now carry a folding saw (bought from Lidl at some amazingly low cost!). I am now able to cut out dead wood and half cut a few live uprights to weave into the now improving hedge! I shall never get to complete the task but it does give me satisfaction to see minor improvements, and a chance to compliment the new growth for doing such a fine job! Last year I transplanted a bush from my garden that was surplus to requirements. Last time we spoke she was doing very well!

Down to the end of the path, which curves left and then sharp right, to the steps of the railway bridge. Here I talk to all the unthinking people who have thrown their empty bottles, takeaway boxes and packets and, surprisingly, tied up bags of dog poo. These conversations are not at all friendly! Occasionally we have had the odd discarded needle and cannabis plant and, on such occasions, I phone both the council and the police and, before too long, the offending articles are gone.

Up I go, either running one step at a time, or walking, taking a varying pattern of steps. Sometimes 1, 2, 1, 2; maybe 2, 2, 2, 2; or, if I’m feeling really good I may even go to 2, 2, 3, 2, 2, 3. You can see what an exciting life I lead!

If, by now I have not already encountered any dogs, this is the place we will surprise one another. Little dogs that is! Bigger dogs can normally be heard coming. The bridge is metal, and the dog’s claws create a musical forewarning.

Dogs are as unique as humans are. Some do not want to speak. Some do not even want to acknowledge your presence. Others greet you like an old friend even if you’ve never met before. Often owners are very wary of other humans interacting with their children. Some offer a warning that they are very dirty or have been paddling or swimming, others say not a word and scowl or smile benignly. I don’t mind any of these things as I know that most dogs will give endless, unstinting love and loyalty, and will appreciate you no matter who you are, what you are, or how you smell!

I do not mind playful jumping as I’m wearing my walking clothes anyway. I do, however, shy away from slobbery dogs, especially if the day is warm and dry. At least if it is wet I can wash my hands in the wet grass!

Onwards, over the bridge, cursing at the graffiti all the way, sometimes a wry smile at a witty new comment. I’ve still not encountered the IT guy with the large dongle!

Down the steps on the other side of the railway and out with the saw to trim off an overhanging branch that is becoming a nuisance!

Now I have the first direction choice. I can go left through woodland towards an old, overgrown, football field complete with rusting metal goal posts. This is popular with dog walkers. This deviation eventually rejoins the path I am taking to the right.

My path meanders alongside a wild, mostly untended field, with trees on the left. If it is wet, and the vegetation is lush, I soon start to get soaked from the chest down. The bird song here is usually tremendous and I always marvel at the volume achieved by such small chests and throats. I tell them all how amazing they are and how they add such wonder to our world!

This path ends at a small footbridge over the River Erewash. To the left I can see the overgrown football pitch with large dogs ploughing through the grass and small dogs leaping to see where they are!

On to the bridge, and I always peer over the sides to see if there are any fish to say good morning to. Sometimes the bridge acts as a meeting place. Someone else has stopped to watch the world go by, maybe several people. This can be the cause of extending the walk time by half an hour as we put the world to rights. Eventually, we all break off to go our separate ways. If someone is going my way I feel obliged to walk at their pace for a while. I much prefer my own company when walking so may often have to excuse myself as having to hurry away to some other, imagined, appointment!

Over the bridge I have another direction choice. Straight ahead to the Erewash canal then left or right along the towpath, or straight over the canal bridge; or, my usual route, right along the river bank.

Right it is, meandering with the river. I like it best when the water is fairly low and then the river talks, babbling away to itself, and to anyone who will listen. One particular spot has exactly the same babbling noise as a small brook of my childhood, where we could paddle, and dam the water with stones and broken branches. It makes me smile at the memory. if I’m lucky I will catch a glimpse of a kingfisher. I haven’t yet managed to get one on camera, they are far too quick.

Halfway along the path I notice that the Japanese knot weed has crossed the river on to the left bank. Only 4 or 5 stems so far. I contact the Environment agency to let them know but they are already aware and, a few days later, they are spraying it to hopefully stem its spread.

A little further and I pass the spot where the squirrels live. If they are about we have a lengthy chat. If not, I shout hello to them anyway!

The path ends abruptly against the railway fence but there are numerous paths off to the left, through the trees, to the canal bank. I take my favourite and normally turn left towards Sandiacre.

Along the tow path there is far greater chance of conversations with sentient beings. Ducks, swans, black headed gulls, coots, moorhens, blackbirds, thrushes, tits of varying types, sparrows, finches, cats, dogs, and, lastly, humans.

I get to know people by their dogs. There is the golden labradors couple. One dog is old, creaky, and slow, and mostly doesn’t really want to walk. If he has to, he very slowly ambles along. The other is a leaner and takes great delight in using my leg as a prop. Quite often he has been for a paddle or a swim so I end up with soaked trousers.

Another black retriever swims every time he walks. He finds a big stick, jumps in the canal and then swims very strongly, straight up the middle of the canal for about 300 metres and then climbs out and rejoins his daddy for the rest of the walk. He does not talk to strangers!

Cyclists abound, especially on Sundays. Joggers come in all shapes and sizes and, occasionally, I encounter a guided walking group. Not for me! To each of these I offer a cheery Good Morning and a comment.

There is a very chatty swan along here. He has always managed to raise a good brood of cygnets. Some years the brood has all, or partially, been predated, other years they all survive. This year, his long-standing wife was killed by a staffie type dog and Sydney, for that is his name, went into what looked like terminal decline. He lost weight and became very straggly. I’m pleased to announce that a new lady has appeared on the scene and they have now set up a permanent home. She hasn’t told me her name yet!

In a while I have to leave the canal bank and head into Sandiacre, joining the main road towards home.

Here there be dragons! It’s amazing how some people will do almost anything to avoid acknowledging my presence, or answering my cheery “Good morning”. Despite this I make a point of speaking to everyone I pass. I will win, eventually!!!

It’s always interesting to see new shops being prepared and I always make a point of welcoming their enterprise and wishing the owners the best of luck. You can normally predict whether they are going to be successful or not but I would like to be proved wrong on occasion!

Nearly home now, passing over the river, the railway. Seeing what old motorbikes are being MOT’d in the very busy bike and motorcycle shop. Waving, or speaking, to shop keepers, a lady who walks miles with her wheeled walking frame, the whistling man, the man who is always eating as he walks.

I arrive home and my wife asks if there were many people about.

Not many, I reply!