FebulousFebruary 2026: The Old Photograph

Day twenty three

Covid Pondering

The Samaritans shop still has its Christmas window display in February and I wish someone could go in and change it.

I have never been in a Weatherspoon’s pub in my life, but I see the curling up posters on our local’s window. I can appreciate that the cost of their full English breakfast is a bargain.  Do people go in pubs for breakfast?  I never noticed before, but you notice the emptiness.

Nearby there is a Georgian square with a fish-pond full of huge golden fish.  The trees in the square are bedecked with lovely twinkling lights but they stopped working a few weeks ago which is a shame.  I hope someone is feeding the fish.

There are incredible bargains to be had in Poundland and Greggs vegan donuts are really good. When the high street is closed, you make do.

Two of my neighbours get up really early in the morning, I don’t know either of their names’, but I wonder if they notice that I get up before dawn too.  I don’t know why I wonder this.  I make up stories about it in my head.

I find video calls a clumsy and unsatisfactory way to communicate.  I cannot navigate the spaces between spontaneity and pause. Sometimes I barely recognise even my closest people because I need their smell and the closeness of their eyes. Keeping ‘in touch’ is becoming a distance promise.

I have seen a goose tongue. The goose on the pond, let me know I was in his manor with a loud call and its fat pink tongue waggled at me. The snowdrops have started to peep out of the grass by the pond.  When stimulation is limited, you notice more.

I had to go to the bank and take my own pen because they don’t share now. Masked up, queue outside, freezing cold.  I don’t really want to go anywhere anymore.  COVID Stockholm Syndrome.

Lel Meleyal (Age 61) Scarborough

Day twenty two

Spicing up Lockdown

I’m bored. ‘Lockdown’ is booring; that’s my opinion; most people’s opinion to; nothing to do, nowhere to go, can’t visit your friends, and the Mother in law can’t come to call, (that’s one good thing I suppose). But we can’t do any shopping, not even supposed to go for a drive! ‘Lockdown’ is a real right royal bore.
I’ve sorted out the garage; the storeroom’s sorted out as well; and now I’m embarrassed to say it, the spice draw’s been sorted too!
A
‘All Spice,’ is good in your fruit cake.
B
‘Bouquet garni,’ I use in a stew.
C
‘Chilli powder,’ always spices up curries.
D
‘Dill,’ for a little zing in a yoghurt dressing; so good if you’re having some fish.
E
‘Evening primrose,’ makes a lovely bed time tea.
F
‘Fennel,’ is related to carrots! I never knew that, did you?
G
‘Garam masala,’ a versatile spice. Use it in cakes, use it in curry, use it when you’re making some marmalade; just watch out there’s not Paddington about!
H
‘Herbs and spices’ are one and the same; tho’ different in so many ways.
‘I,’
‘Italian herbs,’ beef up a good Bolognese.
‘J,’
Ever had a flavourless Gin? To give it a little more flavour, drop a few crushed juniper berries in.
K
‘Kawakawa,’ is something I never have used.
L
‘Lemongrass,’ gives a touch of class to a Chinese marinade.
M
‘Mint,’ butters up your peas and new potatoes.
N
‘Nigella seeds,’ knead a few into your white bread dough, or sprinkle a few on the top.
O
‘Oregano,’ enlivens any tomato or pizzas.
P
‘Pepper,’ my favourite pepper is freshly ground, it’s tastier and smells oh so good
Q
Well here’s a funny thing! There’s not a spice I can think of here…
R
‘Rosemary,’ this is the Queen of the herbs for me. We’ve even got some bushes in the garden, planted there by me.
S
‘Sage,’ we use in our stuffing, try it with oregano too.
T
‘Tarragon,’ was the dragon, in the children’s program; ‘The Herbs.’
‘U,’
Use your imagination; but use only a little at first.
V
‘Vanilla,’ put some pods in some sugar, you’ll appreciate what it does to your cakes.
W
‘Wassabi,’ is used by the Japanese, when making some sashimi or sushi.
X
‘Xcuse me,’ but here I halt.
There’s hundreds of herbs and spices, try a little with this and that, but remember when using some chillies, try not to blow off your hat! 

Peter C-Hill (60’ish) Whitstable

I’m so fucking angry

It’s an excuse to make money

To give jobs to the pals, the relatives

I’m so fucking angry

None of it works, benefits the populace

Just lines the pockets of the slime

I’m so fucking angry

I can’t see my family 

My friends

I’m so fucking angry

I can’t see a band, a film, an exhibition 

I’m so fucking angry

I can’t eat in a restaurant 

A cafe a pub

I’m so fucking angry

The predictions have come true

There was no need for this slaughter if the science was followed 

I’m so fucking angry

Chrissie (60’ish) Cardiff

Day twenty one

Wave watching – a lockdown moment 

A sharp wind whips up

white surf 

on wave tops that crash on

the wet 

black skin of the rocks that

lie flat 

as sun-basking seals,

And chatter through

the pebbles 

as the sucking sea draws

back into itself,

Ready to rise again,

To crash, again.

Protected from the squall, 

I sit in a sheltered cove,

My face to the setting

September sun 

And I watch, 

And listen,

And wait

Val (72) Herne Bay

September 2020

Day twenty

My world is of three

Sleep work eat, walk, cycle sleep

Three post codes only

Ece Ozdemiroglu (40’ish, London)

Once upon a time

There was Dykes and Dogs and Vans

Now they ALL have them!

Jacqui Soo (age 59) Proud Scouser

Brighton gold
Awash your city brocade lines
Weary endings for all we achieved with locked down summer glow
Drifting down in shades of change

Janet Jones (age 56) Brighton

Day nineteen

Zoom, I am seeing my friends but can’t hug them
Zoom, I am playing bingo with my grandchildren but can’t touch them
Zoom I am at my retirement party but it doesn’t feel real.

Keep safe, keep small, keep insular.
A reliance on compliance informed by the science.
Grateful for my life and my wife

And our mothers died.

Jenny Lobb (age 66) Westgate

Day eighteen

Outside In

Window to outside 

Sunset beauty clouds the pain

Await changing times 

Kerry Mitchell, (age 50’ish) Brighton

Day seventeen

TC

I’m at the service station,

I need a wee.

The toilets are closed,

“It’s the Covid you see.”

It’s the bushes for me.

I’ve called the optician.

They can’t see me- 

Literally or metaphorically,

“It’s the Covid you see.”

We go to the pub

Grapple with their App,

I remember  the days 

When beer was on tap.

“Stand behind the  line”

She shouts at me.

All I want is a cup of tea,

In the cafe run by

The  RSPB.

“It’s the Covid you see”

Go to the club

A chance to unwind,

A game of bingo

A couple of pints.

Perspex, signs, rules, dictats,

Don’t walk around,

Stay in your place,

Make sure you have a mask

To cover your face.

It reminds me of the 1980s.

A dole office in Portsmouth.

Fear and hatred.

Plastic Chairs

Screwed to the floor. 

Face behind Perspex-

“No you can’t have some more.”

“I’m sorry all our lines are engaged.

We value your custom

But there may be a wait,

I know

our customer service

has never been great.

But now I’m afraid, you can’t complain

You see it’s The Covid

Which  is to blame”

I just want things to be 

Normal again. 

Caf Costello (50’ish) Scarborough

Day sixteen

What do you miss?

What do you miss, she asked I miss spontaneity I said –

The way once we met to share Our lives over steaming coffee Or food cooked with passion Now we meet on a screen

In a blur of pixels

Once we could hug a sad stranger who’d lost her keys and

slipped in the mud

While her dog looked on disturbed and mystified

At humans who don’t sniff each other But share space without thinking

Once we’d dance close

with someone we’d only just met

In a dark room vibrating with baselines Or a tent so full of sweating bodies you had to slide in like a fish

And move with the throbbing crowd Of delicious gleaming skin –

That’s what I miss.

I miss the hugging –

my friend, my sister, my lover.

Let’s do this we’d say

Let’s walk, let’s drink, eat, laugh.

let’s dance and press ourselves close And breath each other’s breath Without thinking, without fear

Of catching something mortal

That could end it all in a moment. That’s what I miss,

That is what I miss

Val (age 72) Herne Bay

Day fifteen

Connection

…less than a fleck of a speck

a single strand of RNA

particle in a protein business suit

not even a whole cell longing for life

sends us

(the prime ape)

alone

to our rooms

to consider what we most love

can emoticons ever replace

warm tree breezes

the greeting beat of

a human heart

soft sleeping faces

salted sea-tang spray

the scent of fresh cut greens

the brush of kisses

Gaia’s glints her knife at our throats

reminds us what the choice is

Jane Campbell (age 56) Lives off-grid

Jane Campbell currently promotes the Poetry Matters collective. Please contact via https://janecampbellpoetry.wixsite.com/mysite

Day fourteen

Break down or break it all up! 

Give in or never give up!

Wake up dreading 

Wake up at all

Share your story

Keep to yourself

There’s no more glory 

There’s no more wealth

Share community 

Share yourself

Hate the system 

Hate the wealth

Mask down

Mask up

Face down

Face always up

Nkuli, London