2012 May News

Last Updated on Thursday, 03 May 2012 09:52 Written by Bryn Jones

Much activity in the village with the new choir now singing and a playground initiative.  Don't miss out on another CUPID litter collection on coming up or the preparations for the church flower festival and the Jubilee elebrations in June. The 2012 May Newsletter is available on-line and includes all the details you need. The deadline for the next issue is 20th June 2012. Keep in touch with the latest news by visiting the web site regularly.

Bishop Burton village hall is now connected to the internet and has its own laptop thanks to the BT Community Connections scheme. It also means that visiting speakers and others can connect to the internet using their own laptops. Contact me at  This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it if you wish to access this facility - terms and conditions may apply.

Do you have any stories, unpublished photos or letters that we can scan or put on the web site and share with others? You can contact me at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it or 01964 550255.

Footpath from Summer

Last Updated on Monday, 03 October 2011 21:25 Written by Gina Douthwaite

where sleepy summer tides don`t reach

a tangled fringe of orange nets,

washed-white wood, slung cigarettes,

rest with caved-in Cola cans.

Black seaweed stretches out clawed hands

as though to beckon to the sea,

to plead - from rubbish wash me free.

 

No longer blue this old sea grows

grey and grumpy, bites at toes

that only yesterday it licked,

that only yesterday had kicked

at bubbling waves, at flame-flashed balls,

sandcastle tops with hand-carved walls

and now, on footpaths through the wood

make flip-flop footprints in the mud . . .

where trees like queens in quivering crowns

of reds and golds and sun-burnt browns

sigh at their fussy lodgers plans

to fly off soon to warmer lands,

clap branches at their airborne stunts

- this circled, circled audience

that yawns as dogs and children weave

upon the banks, along the stream

 

where water brews round saucered rocks

and flabby fungus gropes and flops

and voices slip down with the sun

- smaller, smaller, almost none

until the stile's stormed battlements

stand silent. Gone the tournaments,

for summer knights of fearsome rule

are beaten by black nights

and school.