the smouldering ruins of racial capitalism

One Friday night in May I watched as a fire engine pulled up to Turbo Island to deal with the embers of a bonfire for the drinkers and I stopped to take a picture, noticing afterwards the fire fighter leaning out of the window smirking at me. Then I headed off up to Gloucester Road.Continue reading “the smouldering ruins of racial capitalism”

Leaving April behind and listening to news of eels

It’s Wednesday 29th April and anyone that didn’t already know it already can see that Brexit island is drifting slowly into obscurity that’s now become a tragedy we might not know the full weight of yet. I catch up on the news today and I watch the German news on DW because it’s sober andContinue reading “Leaving April behind and listening to news of eels”

love and trees in the time of corona

I cycle the length of the feeder to St Annes and drop off the lasagne and I remember when my friend went bridge swinging on New Years Eve once with climbing friends and they calculated the ropes wrong and she dropped straight in the feeder. The feeder canal runs from Netham Lock in East BristolContinue reading “love and trees in the time of corona”

Happy Easter! and other unnecessary greetings

It’s Saturday 11th April 2020 and I’m waiting outside a restaurant in Clifton and he says to me ‘excuse me, do you want to go for a coffee with me some time?’ He’s another Deliveroo rider and he’s wearing lycra. I panic briefly and unwanted attention from men wasn’t something I’ve been preparing for inContinue reading “Happy Easter! and other unnecessary greetings”

two weeks of lockdown and the nightingales will regrow their wings when we entice them back to brexit island

“I’m enjoying a different relationship with planet earth”. It’s Thursday 2nd April and I’m in an online meeting with others in the advice team at Bristol Refugee Rights. We’re saying things we’re appreciating in our new reality. I’m wondering whether post-apocalyptic Bristolians will speak with the Bristol ‘l’ or will it be consigned to theContinue reading “two weeks of lockdown and the nightingales will regrow their wings when we entice them back to brexit island”