Christopher's Online Journal

How times change; yesterday I said to Kate: if I give you a pound will you get me a newspaper when you go out, anyway, to cut a long story short, I went myself to the newsagent (Kate says the walk is good for me). The Guardian was £3.20! Wow, when did that change, no wonder their readership is falling. The Yorkshire Post wasn't much better at £2.50 but at least its supplement magazine had a piece about my home town of Holmfirth. Image courtesy of Museums Victoria on Unsplash I wanted the newspapers because I had it in mind to flash out the reporter piece on the loutharts.online website. I thought that reading how other reporters went about their writing might inspire me. You might tell me if it works, or better still you might become a reporter. I so hope others are encouraged to give it a try. Although I have to say the process for me, of putting the piece together, was quite wonderful. Especially re-reading Clare Balding's excellent piece of writing: Feast of action is helpin...

The poem was about a letter, or actually more about the use of letters, or not. It was well-received, which is how we like it isn't it, well it is for moi! Most certainly. This is Friday, a day of so many times; good times, youthful times. Payday times in the clay works; where some men immediately gambled away their entire week's wages. Image courtesy of Veronique Estie on Unsplash Last night's 'education' film was Shadowman , about the American artist Richard Hambleton. As with most of these programmes it began slowly, but grew into a not to be missed story of an amazing life. Then to be followed by Mindful Escapes on the BBC where Andy Puddicombe slowly and smoothly narrates over the backdrop of quite beautiful, and amazing images from nature. Now it is America by The Nice which plays on the stereo. Yes, that particular Friday was a long time ago! Here's the letter poem: Home Thoughts From A Broad Where do letters sit In the hierarchy or the continuum of our ...

I had a lot of freedom as a young child. I was allowed, or encouraged, to do as I pleased, where I pleased, in what was essentially a countryside environment. And now it is being suggested that my formative years are why I now always want to do things my own way, and why I don't take instruction well. Worse still I am told that I rally against being told what to do, or how to do it; and so I choose not to argue my corner, our childhoods do form us so much, don't they. Image courtesy of Danny Lines on Unsplash So much for beginning sentences with subjects and verbs, as professed by Roy Peter Clark, in his 10th Anniversary edition of Writing Tools . It's not for me. More to my liking is Josip Novakovich's Fiction Writer's Workshop where he says: As a writer you need a strong sense of independence, of being and thinking on your own - so go ahead, work alone... Ultimately, write in any way that gives you a sense of freedom. Yes, those are my sort of words of advice, ir...

The website is online. The first stretch of work is over. Louth Arts Online is at loutharts.online As expected there is more to be done. Last night, on the cusp of sleep, I was thinking about the Zero Degrees Festival, about the Walking Festival, and about Music Nights in Cobbles bar (among others). Image courtesy of Korie Cull on Unsplash It struck me that the site needs a reporter, also a place for an organiser, or at least a way for reporters and organisers to contribute to the site. I wondered if the local newspaper, the Louth Leader, was fulfilling its role as a community reporter, and if so, how does it make its mark. So, already there are more questions than answers, but the fulfillment of the beginning was itself fulfilling, lets hope it brings repeated joy. Which is the cue for today's poem: Droplets Of Joy Thin subliminal sounds of the ocean, wave by cascading wave, trickling-harp by trickling-hearts Darkness by the absence of artificial light, darkness by the closure of ...

I have been blinkered of late. My website work has engulfed me. Even now, as I take the time to write the journal note, I have strong feelings of being held away from what I should really be doing. It is as though the post-vaccination headache has not yet cleared, that I am still in a noisy void of disassociation. The new stove for the Old Stables is due for delivery today. Although I have not received the notification promised. Will we return to communal gatherings in there: for poetry, for writing, for music, for art, for meditation, for celebration. Does it make sense that I try to make sense of my life by indulging in such pushy activities. Would it be better if I spent more time going with the flow? John Grant starts the music this morning. I don't know where I first found him, I do know that he has a fascinating back story and makes some neat sounds. I have to go, you know what is calling, but I will leave you with an extract from a long poem, which later on does include the ...

The day started well enough, the IKEA   ALEFJÄLL chair went together reasonably easily, with little or no assistance! But then the first problem of the day became seriously apparent. For whatever reason, the website work which I had been working on for the last three days wasn't accessible. I'm sure it's all down to my not feeling great after the vaccination. Anyway, as Pangloss often said, it's for the best, because now I am almost a seasoned professional with the Xway software, so it's plain sailing from now on in. But just as things were looking up it was time to be sunk once again, this time by choosing to watch Sheffield Wednesday struggle against fellow strugglers Birmingham City. By the end of ninety minutes, and with my favourite player having been sent off for two, what back in the day when I played, would have been called quite ordinary tackles. No amount of meditation can calm me from the frustration that football brings; why do I bother do you ask? Well,...

I make that three days in a row, including today, so ok maybe not quite on a roll, but better than I ever did in books (that is other than my 3 years of Morning Pages  when I felt the voice of Julia Cameron at my back). Now it's just up to me,  me and the keyboard, and the mind, or the essence, where I am told everything springs from. Such is my belief, or some might say gullibility, that I do believe there is more to me than meets the eye. The website is coming on a treat, just a couple of small glitches to be ironed out then it will be ready for content to be continuously added. A little bit like Pennine Publishes Poetry, a previous hosting incarnation ,  which ran away with itself back in the 1990s. Backdrop from Pennine Publishes Poetry Logo Not that I am expecting, or wishing for such popularity on this occasion; quality, not quantity is the motto this time. Talking of quality;  The Perfume of Silence sits on my desk beside me, I am looking for a good stretch o...