The things I miss about England blog

I just wanted to thank everyone who has dropped by on this blog during the course of the year. I will (by the time this goes out) have posted 129 times during the course of the year - the most by some way. I have found it an incredibly useful way to share my fears, loves, dreams, strange drinking habits and obsessions with by and large an anonymous but seemingly intrigued audience.

I started this blog when I moved to the other side of the world, with the aim of highlighting & sharing vague memories of England/UK/life for gentle amusement. I had no vision of what the future would bring, just a dim grasp of the past. 

My life has changed more in the last 10 years than in the previous 30+ by some way:

I left a buoyant England (still in Europe) under a Labour government and virus free, married, with two parents, employed, unpublished, without a record out, pet free and 20kg overweight. Suffice to say all that has changed some for good (eg: 20kg lighter!), some much less so (take your pick).

Anyway, thank you once again for popping here and by way of a thank you, why not listen to the 

Things I miss about England playlist

Wishing you all a safe and happy 2021! 

Andy

Andrew Franks (Poet)

Soul Bay Press (Publisher)

Andy Franks (Soundcloud)

Andy Franks (Mixcloud)

The Butterfly House (Website)

The Butterfly House (Bandcamp)

Day in the life

A New Year's Eve Anxiety Vibration

-- I have watched 

the film

so many times 

and I never noticed

'Greensleeves' 

playing in the 

background 

as the Group Captain 

drives from base 

to The Jackdaw Inn.

-- 'Greensleeves', 
the sound of a late

Sunday afternoon --

Langney Green --

Such a miserable tune.

The weekend ends here!

Hairs on my neck

stood up --

Fucking 'Greensleeves'!

Haunted Sundays

And then an Ice cream van

rolled by my window.

-- The Battle of Britain is safe

although the same cannot be said

for Mr Bloody Whippy! 

Day in the life...

The Long Weekend

-- Driving through

empty streets, floodlit, 

waterlogged.

A toy pistol lies

abandoned in the gutter.

All the stray dogs 

were rounded up

over the long weekend.

-- Netball courts 

cracked and overgrown.

A skateboard lies 

upside down, bleached.

The khaki torn tents 

in the car park,

twitching in the 

benign breeze

are the only signs 

of movement.

The car radio

picks up only static...

-- I suppose I should

try and find some petrol.

Day in the life

A Moment in Meads (Part 1)

-- The Sussex Sun 

hovers over Rye,

beaming along 

the paradise coast,

illuminating a 

third floor room 

somewhere in Meads.

On the wooden table

-- A bowl of fresh 

chopped tomatoes,

spinach, cucumber

and onions, 

smothered in 

olive oil, lemon

and chopped garlic.

'King of America'

on repeat --

A white cotton dress

with red poppies

swishes in to the 

kitchen. 

A broad smile and 

hint of Chanel. 

-- Time to open

the Pinot Grigio.

Time to dance...

Day in the life...

Music from the other blue

-- The clatter of vacuum,

glass shattering, 

door slam,

wind blow,

metal gate.

The perpetual racket

raw root canal buzz

of Cicada and 

clumsiness. 

--- Surrounded by 

FUCKING NOISE!

Day in the life...

 32º - South

-- Floating 
above life.

Toasted soil,

rogue clouds.

Dandelions drift

in the scorched

garden.

On the other

side of town

-- Escape routes

are agreed,

false papers issued.

We have been 

BETRAYED!

Day in the life

Trailing in the wake of genius

-- Even the sketches!

Even the sketches

...summon up 

more about love, 

loss and the torment 

of a broken mind.

Whirlpools

of Indigo and 

Ivory Black

-- Mixed with tears 

of the forgotten

muse.

A man, unshaven

sits at his desk

watching the 

sun rise over

unwashed dishes

-- Purple leaves captivate,

caught on the breeze

of another silent morning.

Even the leaves!

Even the leaves

... are left trailing

in the wake of genius.

Day in the life...

Black Flame

-- I am reconciled.

Cold nights outweigh

the diminishing days.

-- Burnt out.

Like the black flame

in my charred

heart.

Medway Man

The restless and relentless nature of the way Billy Childish seems to produce his work is something that inspires and challenges me at the same time. I'm a fan of his poetry, music & his painting. He is a compelling presence. 

He turns over different pebbles on the same beach as me. His life living in the Medway towns throws up some stark images (or more honestly dark memories) of similar experiences. 

He is neither innocent or guilty. He is Billy Childish (amongst other names). 

Today is his birthday. 

Best wishes.

Photo by Anna Huix/Contour by Getty Images