Showing posts from June, 2015

Ugly Aunti

Some years ago I contributed to an art student publication called 'Ugly Aunti'. I never found out where the name came from, or if it had any deeper meaning beyond the possibility of insulting all of our Aunties.

I think I wrote something for an issue of this zine that never got made (or maybe it did and I just never saw it). I was trying to find this never-published piece of text in the never-made issue on Sunday, when I came across a couple of pieces that had made it into earlier issues of the zine.

I thought perhaps they had something to them (if some of you might reasonably think that what they have is nothing more than debt to Borges) - so I'm putting them here on the blog.

The first of them was for the issue entitled 'Dad'.

Eachan's father was a horse. Sometimes language would escape Eachan. Other times he found himself running, uphill and against the wind, the world full of scent and absent of artifice. He would reach the crest and stand, chest heaving, for…

Mayoring Sunday

Written for the Civic Banquet and Thank You Party of the Mayor of Glastonbury, Denise Michell - Glastonbury's first Green and first Druid Mayor; June 2015

image copyright (c) Bill Nicholls
appears here cropped with colours enhanced
licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons licence

I suspect it may come as a surprise to many outwith Glastonbury That our famous town’s Mayor has not already been a Druid Green Who has also been known as the Fairy Queen.

With Glastonbury's reputation for alternativity (as keen to mark Beltane as the Nativity) What took us so long? Our Town Hall has stood since 1818. That's as long as London’s Old Vic, which in the intervening 190-odd years, has seen Thirteen productions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream...

But perhaps we shouldn't be too hard on ourselves For, alongside their many magical features Fairies are notoriously elusive creatures.
Until today, some would have thought it no more possible To put chains on a Fairy Than put an anchor on a cloud Tie the…


on the appointment of the European Robin as the National Bird of the United Kingdom; June 2015

When we named you ‘red’,
We didn’t have a name
For that stain on your chest and face; Your unashamed orange blush That says,
“I have something to say”.

Down the centuries, we’ve made you friendly, Here in the land of Goodfellow, And that Hood fellow.
Leaving you unharmed
In countless nods to folklore:
Sit on our garden tools.
So say it you do.
You come to us, here with the voice of the brook,
Singing phrases we will never understand.