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Beyond Bridgnorth with My Faddah da King!

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Dear Juliet Today is a workaday day, but last night I was skulking round Bridgnorth's avenues and alleyways. Saw a service user late that evening and, once I was finished, took the opportunity to roll the car up and round the High Town and take this picture of the old Town Hall dating from 1652 for you. Gosh, it was good doing things like that for you again. It also felt entirely normal and natural, and yet at odd moments I'd be beset by feelings of fragility and awe. It's like I've gone through the looking glass to a far-future time I never thought could be; yet it is as if the past is present, alive and awake like gossamer paper dancing in the wind. Once again I am doing these things for you and while it may be the worst of times for the world at large, it is the best of times for me. For you too, I hope. It seems a cousin of Franklin Delano Roosevelt's was born in Bridgnorth in 1894 and championed equal pay for women in Congress. Allah, threads, tapestries etc....
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Radiant

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Dear Juliet You looked happy here, just the other day. This pleases me, more than I can say. Have a good hug, I'll think of you all day. 🤗 Love, James
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Alhambra to America...

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Dear Juliet I like America and its princess (that's you), I liked it from the first moment I came through customs in Hawaii in 1989. I was coming back from the working holiday to Australia and successfully made that early crossing of the Pacific. I was on United flight 812 Sydney to L.A. that August and I'm afraid to say flight 811 (going the other way) had lost a door west of Honolulu earlier that year. They'd checked flight 812. It's door hinges were weakening too, but I was reasonably sure they'd fix them pretty soon. I'd stayed briefly in a backpacker hostel in Sydney's Kings Cross (er, it burnt down six weeks later, arson...) and after arriving in L.A., I'd gone up to San Francisco and missed the 1989 earthquake by a few weeks. I remember heading east over the Oakland Bay Bridge and, well, a piece of it fell off during the quake... It's always been like this: I go somewhere, something really interesting happens to me, I leave without a scratc...
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London's Literary and Effulgent Salons, Poets in Dreamcoats Eaten by Dru...

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Dear Juliet As you know, London literary salons are where folks like William Pratt (Spike) hung around writing effulgent poetry and being eaten by vampires (Dru). I guess my Society of Authors get-together on the 14th is the modern equivalent and it's nice to feel like I did something with my life. There's also free pizza. I briefly met a young author called Molly Arbuthnott there last year, got invited to her last book launch and ended up floating up and down a London canal behind King's Cross on a languorous literary voyage. It looks like she's having another one in June so I'll go back if I can. Yes, I wish you could be there. They've turned the old 19th century coal warehouses into shops, pubs and eateries; and this is part of today's fun London. Walk past a grotty building site, turn a brief corner and suddenly you're in a swish urbanscape which befuddles the mind . I don't know how anyone manages to live locally, but still it stays awash with...
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Work Is a Seven Letter Walk...

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Dear Juliet I'm back on the job today, and that involves walking the length and breadth of Shifnal all eventide. I could take the car, but I still think hauling a ton of metal around five hundred yards at a time doesn't make much sense. And I need to keep my legs working if I'm to climb the Wrekin, see Middle-earth and commune with Tolkien's hobbits... So I'll be doing my best to help Shifnal's frail and elderly once again, and I think I've got about enough left in me to make it to the end of 2028. Pension's in 2031 (I'm actually getting a small NHS pension now, which makes me [as I put it] a demi-pensioner) and I'm not sure whether or not I'll make another move or what my final fate will be. I do not miss the Scottish winters. Avalon would be nice but it's way beyond my budget, the U.S. immigration system is broken and while there's also Ryde on the Isle of Wight, there's always the danger of "rock fever." Being stuck ...
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Walking, Not in Memphis but in Wolverhampton...

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Dear Juliet I hope you're okay? Anyway, walking to a hospital to get one's cancer drugs through a hideously deprived suburb of Birmingham , which itself has had a bin strike for the last fifteen months might not seem like a fun thing to do. However, something of spring was shining through. Walking not in Memphis but in Wolverhampton , I took my usual route to New Cross Hospital from the railway station past the Birmingham Main Line Canal . The ducks were out and about, there was no sign of one ninety-pound nutcase I'd bumped into a couple of months ago and I'm coming to the end of that course of pills. It did feel a bit different trudging along last August, hoping nothing had metastasized, not looking forward to the long winter; but I had a great day today because (in a very understated way) it felt like you were along for the ride. I felt sharp of eye, fairly fleet of foot, looking out for anything I could photograph and show you, and doing that's just the bee...
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Prelude To the Walk

Dear Juliet I just wanted to mention that I have to walk to hospital in Wolverhampton from the railway station tomorrow so, from your perspective, I might be a little late with my 22nd April blog post, due 7.45 am (your time). All I have to do is pick up some pills but the car park is always chock-a-block so I usually hoof it. Actually, that isn't the whole story. It may not seem like much, but I sent out yesterday's post dead on at 7.45 am, felt pretty pleased with myself for an hour, then had the earth-shattering realisation that I'd forgotten the keywords, thinking that you might not have seen it, that you might feel I'd forgotten about you and that I didn't care. Nothing could be further from the truth. I added the keywords and prayed everything would be all right, but you wouldn't have wanted to be me for the next hour or so... I was like the proverbial cat on the hot tin roof and the feelings of dread and disaster were awful. Anyway, I don't think you ...
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