1) At last I came to a town. The strength of the sun turned its pale stone to white so that its beauty stood clear and sharp beneath the sapphire sky.
I found the market place. I stood amidst its bustle. I felt the touch of humanity as its crowds brushed passed me and I heard its voices, its shouts and its whispers close to my ears. My pain was eased and my loneliness withdrew. I stayed all day and watched the colours. Canopied stalls and barrows of peppers, tomatoes and aubergines, ripe and shining. Pale pinks and greys of shellfish. Yellow cheese and dark red hams. Chickens and hens scratched and flapped in their cages. Pigs squealed. There were rolls of bright cloth, rows of leather shoes, piles of pots and pans and pyramids of brown and white eggs. It was a place of plenty. It was a place of sweat and haste, frowning brows and lips moving fast with the fury of barter and business.
At midday the church bells rang out. A young woman came to me with wine, bread and cheese. She was small elfin, dark eyed and olive skinned. She wore a cotton dress of red flowers on pale green, her arms were bare to the summer heat and her hair was long in black braids. In the evening when the market disbanded and drifted away, leaving me alone in an empty square, she was still there. She took my hand and led me to her home. She nursed my weariness she gave me her warm, unashamed love. Her dark, lithe body was gentle and wild, silent and alive. Her young girl's breasts, the sweet dew between her slender legs, she gave and I took. I stayed with her too long. I stayed with her until one day I saw that her pretty eyes were seeing me forever, then I knew I had to go.
As I left the town I saw its broken bridge. Half a bridge spanning half a river, as though its heart had broken half way across and it was never able to reach out and touch the other side. She yearned so to give. I could not give myself just so that I might take. I left her with a child growing inside. I hope she will not always be sad.
From "Star Shine, The Ocean & The Unicorn"
2) The solstice sunrise on Bantock Hill was a yearly event for the Philistines and Dee was expecting their arrival but no one came and when the dawn broke the east with its first strip of daylight it was for Sam and Dee alone. The sun rose, a giant glowing orb like a red moon in a sky that was pink and cirrus sea that washed its weird tide of colour and unfathomed emotion over the man and the girl on top of Bantock Hill. From the hill tops of the valley to the far horizon of the lowlands to the north, generations of ghosts who had known and worked the fields and farms rose again for a moment to see time stand still on the solstice morn.
From "The Lion's Carcass" Samson and Delilah set in 1970's Somerset, with a chapter of bikers called The Philistines.
3) It is first light and the troupe are on the road heading out of London towards their first venue in Warwick but their normally hale and hearty writer and director is disgruntled.
Nobody pierces the silence around Michael's mood as he licks his wounds after a fitful night's sleep peppered with uncomfortable dreams expounding the harsh truth of Elspeth's words.
These dreams pester him, unwilling to fade in the broad light of day, they linger waiting for him to acknowledge their illustration of events as they really happened and one scene in particular is replayed over and over again showing his sister as a young woman storming out of a family party, throwing down an overcoat Aunt Maud has tried to place on her shoulders and embroidered on the back of this overcoat are the words "LACKLUSTRE AND IDIOT" and as she leaves Michael arrives wearing a similar overcoat adorned with the words "CHARMING, GOODHEARTED BOY" .
In an effort to prevent the complete unravelling of the seamstress, Michael spontaneously elects to wear the coat Justina has discarded underneath the coat he has become attached to, gallantly repairing as best he can the threadbare protocol of the mistress of the family wardrobe, Aunt Maud.
By choosing to defend the order of Aunt Maud's propriety, Michael had banished his muse in favour of adopting the attributes of the second overcoat beneath those of the first.
Michael needs reassurance that his muse has returned.
A trick of synchronicity soon dispels Michael's fears when his muse appears in her human form somewhere between Uxbridge and High Wycombe.
Franzine's recognition of Elena Joy Constantine causes Michael to insist they stop and take on a passenger whose tufted, urchin hair makes her a spectacle of pity and obvious need and on welcoming her aboard he politely enquires into her ancestry and her knowledge of 'The Flower Fables'.
Elena Joy admits to being Esme May's grand-daughter and volunteers a recitation of the authors work.....
From "Mrs Moon's Children" (was a work in progress. The first book of a trilogy to be followed by "Lady Angel's Adopted Son" and "Granny Walcott's Garden"
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