"chilterns" poems
Thursday morning and I board
the Preston train, a dumpy DMU,
but less of a cattle-truck today.
Over the bridge or beneath
lines to Platform 5 to wait:
Branson's Scarlet Pendolino
will glide in soon bound
for Birmingham - wonder
who I shall meet and share
travelling moments with ?
At the caverns of New Street
I must wend to Moor Street
and a Chilterns train trundling
me south for Warwick's 1,100th.
birthday weekend and 100 years
since trains of Lancashire PALS
cattle-trucked themselves to
Flanders fields never to return.
(c) C J Heyworth June 2014
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
We put them into the microwave to dry out,
That midsummer. The air cooled,
High over the Chilterns, and we met
The finished product
Hit the North
and Hit the Arcades
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
It wasn't so much childhood trauma as it was a soap melodrama. But I wasn't the protagonist and I soon realised that I had become redundant to their narrative.
Part way into the 8th series I left to star in my own spin off at a boarding school set in the Chilterns where I had greater success. Oh, yes - there was the occasional well-choreographed cross-over, but nothing substantive; and I successfully developed my own independent brand.
Years have passed and we don't do cross-overs anymore, but they may turn up for the occasional, one-scene guest appearance.
I prefer it this way. It's not Made In Chelsea, but it's my own reality drama.
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 3:19 PM UTC