Boat Bottom Canvas

Every time I look, my hungry eyes see more. A line of Galloping surf at dusk or dawn. Spray-flecked lighthouse, defiant in brilliant white. Darting seabirds thumping down to chase silver glimmerings- or scudding clouds swirling far out to see. In need of a lick of paint? No. Anything but. Here there is the intensity…

Take Me

Bathwick. Bath. 1927. Valeria had watched the man for over a week now, and always in the early morning. From her solitary table on the balcony terrace she would first hear the gentle slap and pull of his oars working the river, then see him glide slowly in to view. Straining on the oars and…

Sea

The sigh of the Sea is the Song of my heart Relentlessly rolling, repeating, stalwart Curving and curling and carving each start, Framing and cradling every thought.   I adore every breathing and sighing of wave As it heaves to the shore in its spume, At times keeping pace, erstwhile off the stave Yes ethereal…

Wondrous Frames

The painter Paul Klee described art as ‘taking a line for a walk’. Perhaps. Dave Fieldhouse, though, takes the eyes and heart on a great journey. His images are at once strikingly fresh and new, yet wonderfully nostalgic. They are multi-faceted scenes that evoke precise amd special moments captured in beautiful places, yet often captured…

Sails of Silver

It is a very valuable experience to watch a person engaging with their passions. It is a privilege to observe, and one that I always value greatly. A person may embrace their chosen field with grace and serenity, or hurl themselves at it with full force.  However it manifests itself, it is always mesmerising. What…

The Shippen a storm

An Ark. Firmly run aground in a safe harbour. Once a refuge for animals, milked two by two. Now a home, lovingly crafted. Formidably hulled: all Shipshape and Bristol fashion. A beam-boned whale, with portholes Peering out at rolling landscapes. All wood a creaking, flexing, holding fast. Scything the wind. Enduring rains. Prow raised up to…

Lifelong Loves

I always write about familiar, often achingly familiar subjects. So this one has proved a challenge. I have begun asking people for writing requests, with complete freedom of choice, and the latest is Robin Hood’s Bay. I have never been there, but thanks to my Uncle Pete who is approaching awesome  nonagenarian status, I now…

Last Chance Saloon

What would you watch, if time was of the essence? If you could enjoy and appreciate one film, and one film only.  Choose one cinematic experience to relive.  If you were given 60 seconds to choose one last film? Could you take your pick?  I could, hands down. It would be Local Hero. The 1983…

Ships passing in the night

Even ships that pass in the night feel eachother’s wake. However slight, their courses alter. Maybe these ships have to pass unacknowledged, because Any meeting would be too momentous. So it is that only the ripples meet. © Tom Tide 2016

Against the grain. I

A rotten butt, he called us. The vehicle of salvation for he and his progeny, and we were rotten to him. Warped we may have been, and old,  but never rotten. For we work together, my knotted kin and I.  Regardless of any stress or strain.  We boat parts are old retainers. Whatever the weather….