1479

We are surrounded

By children on holiday

All making a din.

Brian Hick July 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 27.6.26

 1384

Off to the Isle of Wight with Emily,

Henry, George and Hannah - till Sunday

When Nick will join them all - with Sally and me.

Off to the Isle of Wight.

We're booked in a Little Hyde near Sandown Bay

Which will be packed with every family

Looking to relax, chill out and stay

Cool, despite the heat, the games and free

Family shows that round off each day,

When calm descends, and time for you and me.

Off to the Isle of Wight.

Are we ready? Are the cases packed?

Is the satnav primed, the OS map,

Towels and tea-clothes, boots and bottles stacked?

Are we ready?

The south coast road is slow and to cap

It all the caravans round Chichester

Are nose to tail, seeming to enwrap

The city in a ring of boils, sinister

White lumps which crawl and ooze to fill each gap

While tempers fray and start to fester.

Are we ready?

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 17.9.25

 1366

A week away - and I am not in charge!

For years I've always organised the days

Ensuring hours are profitably spent,

All educated in the local ways

With dates and vistas, views and monuments,

Till they merge in a pleasurable haze

Of boots and sticks, pub lunches, strange hotels,

Recalled for ducks in bathrooms, bedroom keys,

Reused teabags, small towels and soft beds,

House-rules on post-it notes and sneaked cream teas

Between full-English and the evening's meal;

Confusing and confused these memories please

Because, beside the days we can't recall,

They bring to mind real friendships which wont pall.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 8.8.25

 1365

Being away is

Fine, because I know I can

Always come back home.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 6.8.25

 1204

We did not want to go to France

But, since we've returned

Everything seems different.

You probably know why

But I'm confused.

This quiet unforced content

Seems oddly strange.

Normally a holiday might last

A few days, if we're lucky,

Then the clouds return

Reducing every hour to work

And Love to something we recall

But can't enact today.

Slowly we realise

That everything could be

Like this

At peace

At one

Not just when we're away

But now

And all I have to do is to accept

That love has been there

Even when

I feared that it had gone

And I was wrecked;

For love, which came so many years ago

Has never left me, even when I thought

I was alone, and all I had was nought.

Brian Hick September 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 25.7.24

 1197

The Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Railway

In the August sun.

Look the guard's waving his flag,

Oh, won't this be fun!

An over-large American,

Concerned for her small hound,

Talks loudly all the way down to

New Romney, and the sound

Of her Primary Teacher's voice

Drowns out the hiss of seam;

And the lurking wine dark sea,

Which can just be seen

Between the houses on the coast

From Hythe to Dungerness,

Is ignored, in favour of

Her pooch's panting breath.

The train speeds up, the kids look out

To wave at all who stand

As we flash by, at walking speed,

Along to Romney Sands

Then through the tunnel to arrive

At our destination

For souvenirs and lunch perhaps

Brought at New Romney Station.

Behold the men who stand around

Admiring the Engineer

Who tinkers with the wheels and valves

Oiling here and there

While the mums sort out the kids,

Those bouncing for the loo

From those demanding an ice cream

Or something else to do -

'Cos if you're twelve, you're far above

All these childish things,

A family outing on the train's

Like - just - embarrassing.

But now it's time to take the train

Back along the line

Squashed with other visitors

All having a great time.

The whistle blows, we're nearly there,

Steaming to the station.

Bye ye' all. I hope you have

A really great vacation!

We wander back towards the car,

Left parked in the sun,

Wishing it were yesterday, for

The holidays are now done,

And even if the memory

Of days like this may last

All too soon they will become

Just smoke, circling the past.

Brian Hick August 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 10.7.24

 1188 Isle of Wight - various oddments (3)

               Holiday lunchtime;

                    Blue slush

                      Kitcats

                    And chips.

Brian Hick July 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 21.7.24

(2012 holiday with our granddaughter)

 1188 Isle of  Wight - various oddments (1)

Nelson

What did he think as

He climbed aboard the skiff that

Last time for Victory?

A green woodpecker,

In the rain, casually

Pecks up unseen ants.

Hannah is crabbing

I have the line and

The ham, Sally the bucket;

Hannah is crabbing

Red whiskered bulbul

With a Mohican haircut.

A red-headed bird from

The Antiques Roadshow.

We read labels, ticked off what we saw,

Amused by birds who tweeted and a pair

Of copulating tortoises....

Thank you for being at the water's edge

Meeting me where harbour footings thrash...

Brian Hick July 2012 (holidaying with our granddaughter on the Isle of Wight) 

©Sally Hick 19.6.24

 1166

Summer hols with H

Soon it will be summer and I yearn

For days unfettered by the cultural grind,

Released from concerts and the need to earn

A few more Brownie points if I can find

Something new to put upon the web,

Better to be on the Isle of Wight

With Hannah in the endless search for peb-bles

Or strolling along Shanklin Chine by night;

Better to be sitting by the pool

Glass in hand and paper on my knee,

Knowing nothing matters and no rule

Will jolt me from this inactivity.

            After all these years perhaps I've found

            A way to stop. Now that seems quite profound.

Brian Hick May 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 20.5.24

Hannah is our granddaughter.

 989

Jurasic Haikus

The Spinnaker Tower,

An engineering miracle-

For retail therapy.

At Pizza Express

No poems, just a menue

For the holiday.

On European alcohol limits

Italy allows

An extra bottle each week;

Viva Italia!

The bed is lumpy,

The coat hangers are missing

But we both slept well.

Pip, pip, pip, pip, pip

Off goes next door's smoke alarm;

Good job it's not ours.

It rained this morning

So I took my mac, but now

Swelter in the sun.

Junior disco

I cannot see to

Read or write, and the noise

Blots out all thought.

The beach, sans fossils,

Is silent, but the swallows

Swarm in happy clouds.

3.15 am

A young sea-gull calls

Like a squeaking gate up on

The caravan roof.

Austen & Palgrave,

Tennyson & John Fowles

All lived in Lyme Regis.

If I canot see 

The Long Man for the darkness,

Maybe he's not there?

Brian Hick August 2011  on holiday with our granddaughter

©copyright Sally Hick 11.9.23

 983

Mid July and of course it rains.

The Kentish coast has all but been erased

Beneath the sea mist which rolls in again

Despite the days of heat which sought to raise

Our hopes, only to sluice them all away

In squalls and chilly drizzle from the west.

If there are tourists, or the occasional day

Tripper, they're hiding or doing their best

To amuse the children who have had enough

Of slot machines and pleasure parks which fill

The gaps but can't make up for the real stuff

Of holidays - sun and warmth to instil

           A feeling that we have enjoyed the hours

          We spent in Southend, in spite of all the showers.

Brian Hick July 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 8.9.23

 At the Garcon!  (Cardiff Bay)

The sun is dropping and within an hour

Will cast low shadows right across the bay.

We sit upon the terrace, and assay

The boats in rapid flurry to the pier.

A tourist in St David's hotel snaps

Us, though he wouldn't know we're here

Lost in the evening crowd, who sip a beer

Or sit as we, letting the time slip by

Between the courses of the pre-set meal

- Endive Belge et Supreme de Polet -

Idyllic as a holiday should be

But rarely is; a moment snatched, to heal

          The days when there is never time to say

          That in my heart, life always is this way.

Brian Hick September 2008

©copyright Sally Hick 16.9.22