Friday, September 30, 2011

A Brace of Observations

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On the edge of the roundabout parking attendance, two of them, are stood continually raising their arms as indicators for vehicles to turn left for parking. Students are writing, as I am, what they can see at the front entrance of the university. Some are walking around; others are sat on the walls turning to scan the surrounding areas. There is a girl walking around the entrance car park; with a red and black bag on her shoulder, handing out leaflet that are inside it.

Bees are buzzing around people’s heads. The majority of students are carrying bags that only go over one shoulder. There are men carrying large plastic sheets, one carrying his over his left shoulder, the other is wearing his like a large black poncho. On the right hand lawn there is a dark chocolate coloured statue. This somehow blends in with the colouring of autumn that is spreading over the leaves in the trees.

Parked at the bus stop is a dull coloured coach. The bright yellow Edgehill University bus is driving in and out, stopping at both bus stops, letting students on and off. People are walking in and out of the reception area through the revolving doors, it is not clear who is and is not a student due to the diversity of the various people. The air is fresh, which I find to be a welcome surprise, as opposed to the constant smell of exhaust fumes in Manchester. There are construction workers in brightly coloured coats; driving JCB’s and diggers. Flying in circles, in the distant parts of the field’s across from the campus, are white birds. Various vehicles, of different shapes and sizes, are speeding past on the main road.


Brinsley Winstanley




At the Lakeside

Reeds and rushes quiver quaintly, quietly flickering like the fading flame of a dying candle. Butterflies flutter by, whilst wicked wasps thrust and stab at innocent bystanders with rapier like precision inducing numerous responses of futile flight or foolhardy fight. Across the way, unsuspecting students run the gauntlet of the bird- shit slalom. They career this way and that twisting and turning attempting to avoid collecting something unsavoury on the soles of their shoes, thus becoming the unfortunate target of their peers leers and jeers. Discarded cigarette stumps smoulder like discharged shells under foot, clinging to their final acrid breath before fizzling away into nothingness.

The lakes undulating waters dance with dappled delight beneath the soft swollen yolk of the sun, as a flock of little beau peeps sky sheep wander nonchalantly across their blue savannah. A savannah mutilated by man- made machines. I momentarily marvel at the ingenuity of my forbears, before recalling the cautionary tale of Daedalus and his crestfallen son Icarus. Metallic mallards marshal diligent drakes deftly towards tables. From atop of such tables with their tarnished varnish, revered raconteurs as bold as brass regale colourful tales of fresher week conquests and calamities to a captivated audience. Summer surrenders slowly as autumn advances amicably.

The geese that patrol the perimeter mimic the motions of those around them. The males prance proudly, plump plumage pumped provocatively. The female of the species choose to preen persistently before shaking their tail feathers in the direction of would be male suitors in waiting. The air is perfumed with rich robust spices and fresh fragrant herbs. Ginger, paprika, cumin, thyme, rosemary and coriander combine in a colloquial collective to tempt free spending scholars.

Shrubs shrug, poets poise, artisans acclimatize, sparrows spar, flowers fawn, ripples resonate, jocks gesticulate, professors preach, cups clink, dragonflies dart, cutlery clatters, pigeons peck, bushes bristle academics abstain. Trees talk, nurses natter, doctors do little and all around, stoic sentinels with black bin bag hats sustain a silent vigil.

John Williams

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