Archive for November, 2014


his daily bread is prayer

he comes in, orders a glass of cold water

sit’s at the same table

a sip moistens thin lips

eye lids close

shut out life

elbows are placed

in grooves made by cracked red skin

as slowly, thin veined leaves

touch each other

and the world stops

as another world opens of surreal serenity

where the passion is peace

he prays for a minute, an hour

until he is finished

and ready to be

reunited with the living


The Great Fogginzo's Cobweb

coire gorm

In Gaelic, they call the Isle of Skye : Eilean a’Cheo – The Isle of the Mist. When you drive from the bridge to Broadford, sometimes it can be as bland as you like, and butter wouldn’t melt. Bheinn na Caillich on a sunny day looks like an invitingly pleasant walk. It doesn’t look like 3000 feet of granite scree and boulder that might break your heart. And on a clear day, you can see, on the summit, a low mound. It’s a cairn, 50 metres round the base, and reputed to be the burial mound of a Norwegian princess. A bookseller in Broadford said to me one day, quite casually, ‘ah, yes. Saucy Mary’s cairn’. Who wouldn’t be intrigued? He sold me a book: Skye: the island and its legends. [Otta Swire. pub. Birlinn Limited. Edinburgh 2006. First edition O.U.P. 1952] and that’s how I came to learn about…

View original post 1,081 more words


It’s been a while since I did a blog but I do have what people will see as a good reason. As part of my dissertation at university I have to do a literature review of any relevant literature and it’s not as easy as it sounds! Reading through pages and pages of academic literature takes its toll on your brain and your sanity. Making endless notes and re-reading to make sure you haven’t missed the all-important word that could make a difference strains not only your brain but your eyes too. But having said all that it is very interesting and rewarding on many levels.

For many students the word dissertation strikes fear into them. It is the same for many employees who are asked to compile a report on their competitor’s latest product or last week’s sales figures. Where do I start! At the beginning. Sounds easy enough and for some reports it is. You will have a start point already made for you. For other reports and for a dissertation it is not so easy. My advice is to find a significant point in time to focus on and to remember that you can go back before this point as well as forwards after it too. The point provides a reference for you to focus on and to start your dissertation or report from.

As part of my dissertation I have to apply a sociological theory to my work. This is because I am studying sociology and my dissertation needs to reflect that. The theory I have chosen is that of habitus and capital from the French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu. I have chosen Bourdieu’s work because I am interested in how power is controlled and maintained within society and within certain groups. Some groups appear to have a lot of power, others none at all. But who decides who has the power and how it is distributed amongst society? How do the powerful maintain their power? What are the subtle signs within society that many of us are exposed to from an early age that influence our perceptions of power? There are many signs that influence our decision on who are powerful and why. Bourdieu classed them as Social Capital, Cultural Capital, Economic Capital and Symbolic Capital. We are exposed to these forms of Capital from the day we are born and continue to be exposed to them till the day we die.

Many of them are so familiar to us that we don’t even notice them anymore. Statues looking down at us from on high signifying power in one form or another. If you do as well as me you may too get a statue made of you they seem to tell us as we walk by. This signifies power and who has it. If you read the plinth it may tell you why they earnt this power, in battle, in politics or maybe for writing or painting. Either way it signifies what constitutes power in society and why. Are we meant to bow down to this form of power, aspire to it or both? Either way it tells us who are the powerful and why on a daily basis.

Every day we are exposed to Economic Capital with endless news reports of sporting superstars earning vast amounts of money, companies making billions of billions of pounds of profit while still increasing prices but telling us that we should be grateful to them for providing us with energy, housing, food and other commodities at vastly inflated prices. We get told that these sporting superstars are worth every penny but is that for their talent or for the immense revenue and profits they generate from companies around the world?

Speaking of brands they enter into our Symbolic and Cultural capital unnoticed. Just think of McDonalds, Adidas, Ford and Apple to name a few. They and many others have entered into our Symbolic and Cultural society naturally and now all we have to do is see a product of theirs and we immediately know who made it, how much it cost, where it was made and based on this information we make assumptions about people. If we take the example of Ford we may assume that this person is at the lower end of the economic scale and so doesn’t have much spare cash. Compared to someone who is driving a Porsche or a Ferrari we would assume that they are at the other end of the economic scale and are very wealthy. Both examples could be wrong. The Ford driver could be rich but likes to save his pennies whilst the Porsche driver could have hired it for the day just to experience what it is like to own one.

But the point still stands that we give these products such Symbolic and Cultural capital and this is so ingrained within our natural psyche that we don’t even register the assumptions we are making about the people who use these products. We have subconsciously given these products and by association the people who use them Symbolic and Cultural capital and therefore power. With regards to this power we may position ourselves above them if we feel we have more power than them or below them if we feel we have less power than them.

This power is then transferred into where we stand within society. Someone viewed with low power will have a low social standing within society and viewed as not making much of a contribution to the running of society. On the other hand someone viewed as having high power will have a high social standing within society and viewed as having made a greater contribution to the running of that society. High power also brings more opportunities to maintain and exploit this power to the full. Once people have this power they do not want to give it up and will keep it for themselves only transferring it to their next of kin. This then maintains the status quo of the elite and any new members must have sufficient Social, Cultural, Symbolic and Economic capital of their own in order for them to join the club.

I will stress now that these are my thoughts and I am probably repeating the thoughts and ideas of many who have gone before me. This is also a very complex branch of sociology to get to grips with and a blog such as this does not have the space or scope needed to explore Bourdieu in sufficient depth and breadth. I just hope I’ve given you something to think about next time you look around at all the cultural symbols that surround you in your life.

Thanks for reading and take care 🙂


Writing memories before I forget them

This is a poem about how I felt before I got my diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome in 2008. I felt that something in my life was missing but didn’t know what or even what I was looking for. This was an intensely confusing time and this poem reflects this.

The dog walks past and does not bark

Silently it walks by

The bird perches but does not sing

It sits in the branch staring

The content cat does not purr

It waits and listens

Something is missing

I am missing something

My sixth sense is overflowing

Overwhelming me with a

Message that the world is

Not as it seems

Not what I hear

Not what I see

Not what I touch

Not what I taste

Not what I smell

Not what I know

Not what I believe

Reality is metaphorical

I am on a stage

With no script

No instruction

No direction

No movement

View original post 24 more words


This is a poem about how I felt before I got my diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome in 2008. I felt that something in my life was missing but didn’t know what or even what I was looking for. This was an intensely confusing time and this poem reflects this.

The dog walks past and does not bark

Silently it walks by

The bird perches but does not sing

It sits in the branch staring

The content cat does not purr

It waits and listens

Something is missing

I am missing something

My sixth sense is overflowing

Overwhelming me with a

Message that the world is

Not as it seems

Not what I hear

Not what I see

Not what I touch

Not what I taste

Not what I smell

Not what I know

Not what I believe

Reality is metaphorical

I am on a stage

With no script

No instruction

No direction

No movement

No action

Interpretation is open and closed

Communication alive and dead

Understanding nothing and everything

Something is missing

And I pick the needle up

History Repeats Itself AdContinuum

Posted: November 11, 2014 in Uncategorized

Do we evolve or just revolve in a never ending recycle? Listen to this classic and drive deep into the innermost roundabouts of your mind…………………….https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZNq1oVeY30


A link a great page of poetry from poets local to the Ryburn Valley, Sowerby Bridge. Have a look and enjoy.

https://sites.google.com/site/ryburnramblings/local-poetry


It’s not often I write a poem for an occasion but this Remembrance Sunday is a very special day because it is 100 years since the start of World War 1. I have written a poem to commemorate all the soldier’s who fought in WW1 and all subsequent wars too. I hope you get something from it.

a memory

she watches the service dress tunic

about turn and march away

to a foreign land of

mud and rain

blood and sweat

death and destruction

 

but also of friendships forged

as steel and iron surround them

of comrades in arms

building an imbreachable wall

of colleagues together

in life, in death

 

and she hopes that

the man she loves

inside that uniform

returns one day

 

to hold her

to hug her

to kiss her

to love her

 

that the back of a

smart khaki uniform

the back of a

shiny army helmet

the back of a

perfect haircut

 

is not the last she sees of him

is not her final memory of him

is not the ending that lies latent

in her fearful heart

 

and now he’s gone

an empty street

a soundless world

stillness lies on stillness

as a life without meaning

absorbs her soul

and the earth spins today

but time lulls to and fro

as each opening year

brings a dense realisation

that the one man she loved

is gone

 

forever

never to hug

never to kiss

never to love

lost in a field in Belgium

where poppies grow

 

and the woman

clutches the hand

of the little girl

and passes her a picture

of a handsome young man

in a smart army uniform

 

take this Alice

and pass it on

down the ages

so that generations

can remember him

the man who gave his life

 

so we may live in hope

of a world survived

of a future restored

keep the memory of

your granddad alive

your grandma’s one and only true love

 

he may be absent in body

but he’s never forgotten in spirit

in our hearts, our minds, our souls

he lives on

in a poppy field in Belgium

he lives on

 

and as the last post plays

he lives on

with thousands and thousands

of courageous men

who gave their lives

so we have ours

 

 

but also of friendships forged

as steel and iron surround them

of comrades in arms

building an imbreachable wall

of colleagues together

in life, in death

 

and she hopes that

the man she loves

inside that uniform

returns one day

 

to hold her

to hug her

to kiss her

to love her

 

that the back of a

smart khaki uniform

the back of a

shiny army helmet

the back of a

perfect haircut

 

is not the last she sees of him

is not her final memory of him

is not the ending that lies latent

in her fearful heart

 

and now he’s gone

an empty street

a soundless world

stillness lies on stillness

as a life without meaning

absorbs her soul

and the earth spins today

but time lulls to and fro

as each opening year

brings a dense realisation

that the one man she loved

is gone

 

forever

never to hug

never to kiss

never to love

lost in a field in Belgium

where poppies grow

 

and the woman

clutches the hand

of the little girl

and passes her a picture

of a handsome young man

in a smart army uniform

 

take this Alice

and pass it on

down the ages

so that generations

can remember him

the man who gave his life

 

so we may live in hope

of a world survived

of a future restored

keep the memory of

your granddad alive

your grandma’s one and only true love

 

he may be absent in body

but he’s never forgotten in spirit

in our hearts, our minds, our souls

he lives on

in a poppy field in Belgium

he lives on

 

and as the last post plays

he lives on

with thousands and thousands

of courageous men

who gave their lives

so we have ours

 


where did you come from

silently sneaking up on me and

attacking me when I wasn’t ready

 

why did you choose me

out of millions and millions

why me, why me

 

to invade my body with your

swarming seeds flowing around

my body, killing me slowly

 

leaving me in constant pain

barely able to move or breathe

fighting to stay alive

 

as you explore every part of me

seeking and destroying

my very soul, taking me alive

 

in order that you may live

and I will die taking you

with me in my final hour

 

would it be your victory

or would it be mine

even in death

 

but I am strong

stronger than you realise

stronger than you will ever know

 

and I will fight you

for every hour of every day

wherever I go I will fight

 

to stay alive and beat you

destroy you, defeat you

to rid my body of you

 

and I will fight forever

to remain alive for another

minute in this world

 

and see you defeated

once and for all

gone forever

 

I want to see the

sun rise

the moon dance

leaves blown by the wind

streams racing by

rain bounce off pavements

 

and I will do

because I will beat you

today, tomorrow, forever

Sunday Poem – Kei Miller

Posted: November 3, 2014 in Uncategorized

A great blog from a great writer, Kim Moore.

Kim Moore

Evening all.  I’m writing this with aches and pains in muscles I didn’t even know I had after running the Lancaster half marathon today – my first half marathon.  I got a lift with three friends from the Walney Wind Cheetahs, the running group that I go to.  It was so nice not to have to think about parking or getting to the venue in time and just to stumble out of the house at 9am this morning, get in a car and be taken there! I was quite nervous about the half marathon because I haven’t had time to do as much training as I wanted to – the week before last I did my longest run ever of ten miles and I felt pretty good but really I should have been building up and doing some long distance runs for the last couple of months.  However for the…

View original post 1,975 more words