{"version":"https://jsonfeed.org/version/1","title":"A Crumpled life","home_page_url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm","feed_url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/json","description":"Stories lurk sometimes stuck under stones, forlorn in the fields, woods, streets and cafes. In the light of day or in the darkness of my bitter soul. Here are some stories and poems from my crumpled life.","_fireside":{"subtitle":"Stories and poems written by Tim Crump","pubdate":"2022-11-16T15:00:00.000-05:00","explicit":false,"owner":"Tim Crump","image":"https://a.fireside.fm/assets/default/cover-86b939ac66032632ed81c317d800b73e9ca11f80e5fc7d3f8f29e13c8ca909ff.jpg?v=0"},"items":[{"id":"924f125b-46aa-4255-85ef-00fad1eef6c4","title":"Episode 37: The Solar System and Numbers","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/37","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"","date_published":"2022-11-16T15:00:00.000-05:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/924f125b-46aa-4255-85ef-00fad1eef6c4.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":19336381,"duration_in_seconds":805}]},{"id":"655839ad-fc0e-4745-89b6-9f8571a71ea0","title":"36: Katrina's Birthday Song","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/36","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"Happy Birthday Katrina!!","date_published":"2022-05-07T03:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/655839ad-fc0e-4745-89b6-9f8571a71ea0.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":2611794,"duration_in_seconds":98}]},{"id":"cac2e811-3dc7-4249-8b2e-03a7137afab4","title":"35: Christmas Windows","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/35","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"Nigel Slater","date_published":"2021-12-01T10:00:00.000-05:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/cac2e811-3dc7-4249-8b2e-03a7137afab4.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":8779359,"duration_in_seconds":365}]},{"id":"83c8df61-cae0-4d5a-933d-e00c6569b373","title":"34: Summer with Monika by me, Roger McGough","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/34","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"","date_published":"2021-04-20T01:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/83c8df61-cae0-4d5a-933d-e00c6569b373.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":2502447,"duration_in_seconds":104}]},{"id":"df6104f7-cdd3-46c1-aaad-39fa0e9ee4e1","title":"33: Seedless easy peeler","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/33","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"","date_published":"2021-03-07T17:00:00.000-05:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/df6104f7-cdd3-46c1-aaad-39fa0e9ee4e1.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":6318624,"duration_in_seconds":263}]},{"id":"d0d8b4da-c5cd-49fb-9e1d-5c46ae6aafe2","title":"32: The Song of Wandering Aengus by W.B. 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Pomme","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/26","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"","date_published":"2020-12-15T02:45:00.000-05:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/4c00152c-42e8-4834-81d9-634bebae6976.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":4280660,"duration_in_seconds":266}]},{"id":"f82ab9dc-c2e3-4e17-a14e-34df1350384f","title":"25: Nigel Slater: Pickles, pruning and a baked apple","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/25","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"","date_published":"2020-12-15T01:00:00.000-05:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/f82ab9dc-c2e3-4e17-a14e-34df1350384f.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":16233661,"duration_in_seconds":676}]},{"id":"ed2e5714-d010-450e-a428-1c377ac1f217","title":"24: Nigel Slater Pickled Quinces and a Christmas 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Broth","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/22","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"","date_published":"2020-12-13T04:00:00.000-05:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/8e3eb815-70f3-4186-b9ba-29149303b3eb.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":12595535,"duration_in_seconds":524}]},{"id":"fa6e4f6a-0352-421f-b77d-7a689b42d69d","title":"21: Piper at the Gates of Dawn","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/21","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"","date_published":"2020-11-26T15:00:00.000-05:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/fa6e4f6a-0352-421f-b77d-7a689b42d69d.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":39951382,"duration_in_seconds":1664}]},{"id":"a95e1f63-81b5-4091-b31f-94c86e0ff96f","title":"20: Wind in the Willows","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/20","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"","date_published":"2020-11-19T13:45:00.000-05:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/a95e1f63-81b5-4091-b31f-94c86e0ff96f.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":45550572,"duration_in_seconds":1897}]},{"id":"c7671d42-b030-4007-9212-edcc541469b3","title":"19: Poem: Malevich's Black Square","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/19","content_text":"Malevich’s Black Square\n\nI awoke in the middle\nOf the night\n\nThinking I should’ve \nCalled home\n\nTo let you know\nI was safe\n\nI then remembered\nThat you weren’t\n\nAnd that neither\nWas I","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eMalevich’s Black Square\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI awoke in the middle\u003cbr\u003e\nOf the night\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eThinking I should’ve \u003cbr\u003e\nCalled home\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eTo let you know\u003cbr\u003e\nI was safe\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI then remembered\u003cbr\u003e\nThat you weren’t\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eAnd that neither\u003cbr\u003e\nWas I\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"","date_published":"2020-04-27T00:45:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/c7671d42-b030-4007-9212-edcc541469b3.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":454134,"duration_in_seconds":27}]},{"id":"2a6677f2-54bd-4e3b-9705-c38f426b5434","title":"17: Poem: Wasted","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/17","content_text":"*Wasted *\n\nI spent days \non that bridge\n\nI cannot cross it\nI cannot walk that parapet\n\nopen spaces\nfill me with fear","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e*\u003cem\u003eWasted *\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI spent days \u003cbr\u003e\non that bridge\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI cannot cross it\u003cbr\u003e\nI cannot walk that parapet\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eopen spaces\u003cbr\u003e\nfill me with fear\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"","date_published":"2020-04-21T05:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/2a6677f2-54bd-4e3b-9705-c38f426b5434.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":351938,"duration_in_seconds":21}]},{"id":"a3e8896b-4498-4cea-b326-f5d441f5ce42","title":"18: Poem: Dark Infanta","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/18","content_text":"Death\n\nDeath looks as\nMy youngest sister did\nA dark haired infanta\nBefore\nThe drugs bloated\nThen killed her\nYour job’s done\nBrother\nYou can come home now","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eDeath\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eDeath looks as\u003cbr\u003e\nMy youngest sister did\u003cbr\u003e\nA dark haired infanta\u003cbr\u003e\nBefore\u003cbr\u003e\nThe drugs bloated\u003cbr\u003e\nThen killed her\u003cbr\u003e\nYour job’s done\u003cbr\u003e\nBrother\u003cbr\u003e\nYou can come home now\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"","date_published":"2020-04-21T05:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/a3e8896b-4498-4cea-b326-f5d441f5ce42.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":380709,"duration_in_seconds":23}]},{"id":"2a9b6a06-af95-4f2d-b445-b6980338a6e7","title":"16: Poem: Remembered Skies","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/16","content_text":"Remembered skies\n\nIn the Park Keeper’s garden\nBeneath Blue Suburban Skies\nA deep trenched \nAir Raid shelter\nDug for a boy\nObsessed with his father’s history\nIn the battle of Britain\nAs an earth-bound engineer\n\nMy father\nHating their bubble car\nRemembering, perhaps,\nReleased air surfacing\nfrom U-Boats below the North Atlantic\nForbade me to see him\n\nI still have Ian’s present\nA Ladybird book\n‘The Night Sky’","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eRemembered skies\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eIn the Park Keeper’s garden\u003cbr\u003e\nBeneath Blue Suburban Skies\u003cbr\u003e\nA deep trenched \u003cbr\u003e\nAir Raid shelter\u003cbr\u003e\nDug for a boy\u003cbr\u003e\nObsessed with his father’s history\u003cbr\u003e\nIn the battle of Britain\u003cbr\u003e\nAs an earth-bound engineer\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eMy father\u003cbr\u003e\nHating their bubble car\u003cbr\u003e\nRemembering, perhaps,\u003cbr\u003e\nReleased air surfacing\u003cbr\u003e\nfrom U-Boats below the North Atlantic\u003cbr\u003e\nForbade me to see him\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI still have Ian’s present\u003cbr\u003e\nA Ladybird book\u003cbr\u003e\n‘The Night Sky’\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"","date_published":"2020-04-19T02:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/2a9b6a06-af95-4f2d-b445-b6980338a6e7.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":916555,"duration_in_seconds":56}]},{"id":"35e4e557-e02c-4efc-b922-4571c3e57b6f","title":"15: Poem: Beyond the Gate","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/15","content_text":"Beyond the Gate\n\nBehind suburban lawns, neat flower beds,\nIn the no-man’s spinney beyond the garden gate,\nUnder tangled branches, brambles, and deserted nests,\nI find a grave-like hollow in the shade.\n\nWith shelving sides, scooped clean and rough,\nSome hands had dug a curved and shallow bole, \nJust large enough, and small enough, \nTo take and keep, at eight years old, my soul.\n\nBlue never-ending 60’s summer skies,\nOf ‘Spectrum is Green’, and ‘Thunderbirds are Go!’\nFrom a US base an F4 Phantom flies, \nOur fields, our town, lost in the sun-blocked haze below.\n\nAs jets explode the summer Suffolk skies,\nMy youngest brother runs towards the house, and cries.","content_html":"\u003cp\u003eBeyond the Gate\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eBehind suburban lawns, neat flower beds,\u003cbr\u003e\nIn the no-man’s spinney beyond the garden gate,\u003cbr\u003e\nUnder tangled branches, brambles, and deserted nests,\u003cbr\u003e\nI find a grave-like hollow in the shade.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eWith shelving sides, scooped clean and rough,\u003cbr\u003e\nSome hands had dug a curved and shallow bole, \u003cbr\u003e\nJust large enough, and small enough, \u003cbr\u003e\nTo take and keep, at eight years old, my soul.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eBlue never-ending 60’s summer skies,\u003cbr\u003e\nOf ‘Spectrum is Green’, and ‘Thunderbirds are Go!’\u003cbr\u003e\nFrom a US base an F4 Phantom flies, \u003cbr\u003e\nOur fields, our town, lost in the sun-blocked haze below.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eAs jets explode the summer Suffolk skies,\u003cbr\u003e\nMy youngest brother runs towards the house, and cries.\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"Where does going beyond the gate take us??","date_published":"2020-04-18T00:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/35e4e557-e02c-4efc-b922-4571c3e57b6f.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":1410305,"duration_in_seconds":87}]},{"id":"ed3c7844-bc69-40fe-8d00-d0e787bbab7a","title":"14: Poem?: A Postie's Love Song","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/14","content_text":"A Postie’s Love Song\n\nI’m doing my rounds as a postie\nThe Financial Crash is to thank\nWhen I was released from my job as a hedge funding manager\nBy Lehmann Brothers, the bank\n\nIt’s the week before Christmas in Alston\nI’m pushing my bike through the snow\nThis drizzle palaver soaks my balaclava\nBut my hearts got a warm inner glow\n\nAs Geoff whistles his dogs to the sheepfold\nThoughts of his missus is keeping me warm\nHer dungareed thighs, and bonny mince pies,\nKeep me pushing my bike through the storm","content_html":"\u003cp\u003eA Postie’s Love Song\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI’m doing my rounds as a postie\u003cbr\u003e\nThe Financial Crash is to thank\u003cbr\u003e\nWhen I was released from my job as a hedge funding manager\u003cbr\u003e\nBy Lehmann Brothers, the bank\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eIt’s the week before Christmas in Alston\u003cbr\u003e\nI’m pushing my bike through the snow\u003cbr\u003e\nThis drizzle palaver soaks my balaclava\u003cbr\u003e\nBut my hearts got a warm inner glow\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eAs Geoff whistles his dogs to the sheepfold\u003cbr\u003e\nThoughts of his missus is keeping me warm\u003cbr\u003e\nHer dungareed thighs, and bonny mince pies,\u003cbr\u003e\nKeep me pushing my bike through the storm\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"A postie tells of forbidden love","date_published":"2020-04-17T02:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/ed3c7844-bc69-40fe-8d00-d0e787bbab7a.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":994837,"duration_in_seconds":61}]},{"id":"177cfbee-7350-4157-b533-bda82ab55dc4","title":"13: Poem: Please let me sit","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/13","content_text":"Please let me sit in the Dark\n\nPlease let me sit in the Dark, \nPlease let me sit in the Dark \n\nI want to cradle\nMy grief \nI’m not alone\nI’m swimming\nWith the tide\n\nI want to let it wash\nI want it to drown me\nI want to touch the deep\nPebbles\nOn the seabed\nOnly then\nCan I surface\n\nDon’t worry\n\n‘Don’t worry\nIt may never\nHappen’\n\nI won’t\nIt\nAlready\nFucking\nHas\n\nPlease don’t judge\n\nThe way someone grieves\n\nThe way someone grieves\nIs up\nOr mostly down\nIn my experience\nTo them.\n\nTheir way of coping\nWith their loss\nTheir emptiness\nTheir fucking Void\nof Oblivion\n\n(Now that’s a \nGood title for a\nDeath Metal album)\n\nIs not chosen\nBut is instead\nA necessary\nSurvival tactic\n\nWhatever helps\nThem/ us /me \n(Of course I mean, me, me, me)\nthrough\nWe’re doing their best\n\nLet them\nI mean\nUs\nI mean\nMe\n\nMake our mistakes\n\nWe’re trying our hardest\n\nUnder very difficult circumstances","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePlease let me sit in the Dark\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003ePlease let me sit in the Dark, \u003cbr\u003e\nPlease let me sit in the Dark \u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI want to cradle\u003cbr\u003e\nMy grief \u003cbr\u003e\nI’m not alone\u003cbr\u003e\nI’m swimming\u003cbr\u003e\nWith the tide\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI want to let it wash\u003cbr\u003e\nI want it to drown me\u003cbr\u003e\nI want to touch the deep\u003cbr\u003e\nPebbles\u003cbr\u003e\nOn the seabed\u003cbr\u003e\nOnly then\u003cbr\u003e\nCan I surface\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eDon’t worry\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003e‘Don’t worry\u003cbr\u003e\nIt may never\u003cbr\u003e\nHappen’\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI won’t\u003cbr\u003e\nIt\u003cbr\u003e\nAlready\u003cbr\u003e\nFucking\u003cbr\u003e\nHas\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePlease don’t judge\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eThe way someone grieves\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eThe way someone grieves\u003cbr\u003e\nIs up\u003cbr\u003e\nOr mostly down\u003cbr\u003e\nIn my experience\u003cbr\u003e\nTo them.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eTheir way of coping\u003cbr\u003e\nWith their loss\u003cbr\u003e\nTheir emptiness\u003cbr\u003e\nTheir fucking Void\u003cbr\u003e\nof Oblivion\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003e(Now that’s a \u003cbr\u003e\nGood title for a\u003cbr\u003e\nDeath Metal album)\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eIs not chosen\u003cbr\u003e\nBut is instead\u003cbr\u003e\nA necessary\u003cbr\u003e\nSurvival tactic\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eWhatever helps\u003cbr\u003e\nThem/ us /me \u003cbr\u003e\n(Of course I mean, me, me, me)\u003cbr\u003e\nthrough\u003cbr\u003e\nWe’re doing their best\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eLet them\u003cbr\u003e\nI mean\u003cbr\u003e\nUs\u003cbr\u003e\nI mean\u003cbr\u003e\nMe\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eMake our mistakes\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eWe’re trying our hardest\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eUnder very difficult circumstances\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"Three poems about process - if you want to call it that","date_published":"2020-04-16T01:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/177cfbee-7350-4157-b533-bda82ab55dc4.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":2233828,"duration_in_seconds":139}]},{"id":"16a5c171-a21a-4a0f-a12d-1bc06294ac4b","title":"12: Poem: Show don't tell","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/12","content_text":"Show don’t tell\n\nWhy is every young man\nA Lost Boy\nWhy do we have to go through\nThis Prodigal Son\nI’m off on a journey\n‘I may be some time’ kinda shit\nPissing away our inheritance\nEmotional, cultural, educational \nWith the pigs \n\nWhy do I want to rescue you?\nAnd why am I torn, desperate\nThat you swim to your own lifeboat?\nFighting the easy impulse to throw you a line\nBut I must watch, allowing you to sink\nTo struggle\nTo find your own depth\nDeep inside\nYour wounded\nAnd waiting to be connected self\n\nI don’t want to tell you\n‘I love you’\nI want you to know.\nI want you to\nShow me your life\nI’m desperate for you to know\nI’m listening\n\nAway from home\nIn your new world\nYou show me \nYour work\nYour relationships\nYour hopes and disappointments\nHow things could be better\n\nThey are better\nWe hug once to say goodbye\nAnd then again \nCatching each other’s eyes \nTo say\nThose words \nI’m too scared\nTo whisper out loud","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eShow don’t tell\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eWhy is every young man\u003cbr\u003e\nA Lost Boy\u003cbr\u003e\nWhy do we have to go through\u003cbr\u003e\nThis Prodigal Son\u003cbr\u003e\nI’m off on a journey\u003cbr\u003e\n‘I may be some time’ kinda shit\u003cbr\u003e\nPissing away our inheritance\u003cbr\u003e\nEmotional, cultural, educational \u003cbr\u003e\nWith the pigs \u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eWhy do I want to rescue you?\u003cbr\u003e\nAnd why am I torn, desperate\u003cbr\u003e\nThat you swim to your own lifeboat?\u003cbr\u003e\nFighting the easy impulse to throw you a line\u003cbr\u003e\nBut I must watch, allowing you to sink\u003cbr\u003e\nTo struggle\u003cbr\u003e\nTo find your own depth\u003cbr\u003e\nDeep inside\u003cbr\u003e\nYour wounded\u003cbr\u003e\nAnd waiting to be connected self\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI don’t want to tell you\u003cbr\u003e\n‘I love you’\u003cbr\u003e\nI want you to know.\u003cbr\u003e\nI want you to\u003cbr\u003e\nShow me your life\u003cbr\u003e\nI’m desperate for you to know\u003cbr\u003e\nI’m listening\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eAway from home\u003cbr\u003e\nIn your new world\u003cbr\u003e\nYou show me \u003cbr\u003e\nYour work\u003cbr\u003e\nYour relationships\u003cbr\u003e\nYour hopes and disappointments\u003cbr\u003e\nHow things could be better\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eThey are better\u003cbr\u003e\nWe hug once to say goodbye\u003cbr\u003e\nAnd then again \u003cbr\u003e\nCatching each other’s eyes \u003cbr\u003e\nTo say\u003cbr\u003e\nThose words \u003cbr\u003e\nI’m too scared\u003cbr\u003e\nTo whisper out loud\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"","date_published":"2020-04-15T00:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/16a5c171-a21a-4a0f-a12d-1bc06294ac4b.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":1747240,"duration_in_seconds":108}]},{"id":"4544598f-d23b-42ab-94d2-1c00ec7091f5","title":"11: Poem: Not one escaped","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/11","content_text":"Not one escaped\n\nIn the forest a man is kicking trees\nHe tells me:\n‘Not one escaped the toe of my boot’\nI still see him now:\nMan versus unmoved, unmoving tree\n\nI see a green skin bruised and gashed, \nA fracture less than clean, that weeps,\nResin draining as lymph drips,\nOn dry leaf litter, \nA soiled lint, soaked and spent\n\nUnfelt brambles, snatching thorns \nDraw blood, a craze of spraying drops\nLike dew, a consumptive’s hacking cough, \nor first felt beads of summer rainstorm,\nspeckle the soft green pillowed moss \n\nI hear a quiet moan as wood rubs wood\nWhere churning branches stroke the sky\nBoots hit a pathside birch, \nsteel toecaps bite,\nA heel breaks another fallen twig, in three\n\nHis thrashing blur, too full for thought\nA fog of limbs and mind swept clean\nStumbles, exhausted in its fight\nAgainst unwanted growth and time\n\nFor now …\n\nAlone …\n\nat the kitchen table\nUntouched fruit, his wife unmoving waits\nHer own clock’s quiet tick \nunwinding\nAs it slows to its own \ninevitable \nEscape","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eNot one escaped\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eIn the forest a man is kicking trees\u003cbr\u003e\nHe tells me:\u003cbr\u003e\n‘Not one escaped the toe of my boot’\u003cbr\u003e\nI still see him now:\u003cbr\u003e\nMan versus unmoved, unmoving tree\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI see a green skin bruised and gashed, \u003cbr\u003e\nA fracture less than clean, that weeps,\u003cbr\u003e\nResin draining as lymph drips,\u003cbr\u003e\nOn dry leaf litter, \u003cbr\u003e\nA soiled lint, soaked and spent\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eUnfelt brambles, snatching thorns \u003cbr\u003e\nDraw blood, a craze of spraying drops\u003cbr\u003e\nLike dew, a consumptive’s hacking cough, \u003cbr\u003e\nor first felt beads of summer rainstorm,\u003cbr\u003e\nspeckle the soft green pillowed moss \u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI hear a quiet moan as wood rubs wood\u003cbr\u003e\nWhere churning branches stroke the sky\u003cbr\u003e\nBoots hit a pathside birch, \u003cbr\u003e\nsteel toecaps bite,\u003cbr\u003e\nA heel breaks another fallen twig, in three\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eHis thrashing blur, too full for thought\u003cbr\u003e\nA fog of limbs and mind swept clean\u003cbr\u003e\nStumbles, exhausted in its fight\u003cbr\u003e\nAgainst unwanted growth and time\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eFor now …\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eAlone …\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eat the kitchen table\u003cbr\u003e\nUntouched fruit, his wife unmoving waits\u003cbr\u003e\nHer own clock’s quiet tick \u003cbr\u003e\nunwinding\u003cbr\u003e\nAs it slows to its own \u003cbr\u003e\ninevitable \u003cbr\u003e\nEscape\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"The writer tells of struggle against the inevitable","date_published":"2020-04-14T00:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/4544598f-d23b-42ab-94d2-1c00ec7091f5.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":2339631,"duration_in_seconds":145}]},{"id":"fa0fb72c-2a0d-4f1b-ad37-cd56a4d9d9ad","title":"10: Poems: three shorts","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/10","content_text":"Night, night\n\nThieves of sleep\nSweep through the night\nSwag bags full\nFingers light\n\nPulling the covers off of your bed\nPulling anxieties out of your head\n\n‘Depressed, suicidal?’\nThey’d love to hear you out\n\nBad Samaritans\n\nBy his raiment you shall know him\n\nIn the corner\nThe wardrobe waits\nStoring black\nMemories\n\nCostumes from the past \nMasks\n\nBehind the coats\nThe jackets\nAnd starched\nIroned shirts\n\nThe skeletons hang\nWaiting to be discovered\nAnd aired\n\nHung out on a washing line\nUnderwear\nFlapping in the wind\nFor all the world to see\n\nGive and take \n\nDon’t give me\nAnything precious\nI’ll only lose it\n\nDon’t take\nAnything precious \nfrom me\nI’ll never forgive you","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eNight, night\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eThieves of sleep\u003cbr\u003e\nSweep through the night\u003cbr\u003e\nSwag bags full\u003cbr\u003e\nFingers light\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003ePulling the covers off of your bed\u003cbr\u003e\nPulling anxieties out of your head\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003e‘Depressed, suicidal?’\u003cbr\u003e\nThey’d love to hear you out\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eBad Samaritans\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eBy his raiment you shall know him\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eIn the corner\u003cbr\u003e\nThe wardrobe waits\u003cbr\u003e\nStoring black\u003cbr\u003e\nMemories\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eCostumes from the past \u003cbr\u003e\nMasks\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eBehind the coats\u003cbr\u003e\nThe jackets\u003cbr\u003e\nAnd starched\u003cbr\u003e\nIroned shirts\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eThe skeletons hang\u003cbr\u003e\nWaiting to be discovered\u003cbr\u003e\nAnd aired\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eHung out on a washing line\u003cbr\u003e\nUnderwear\u003cbr\u003e\nFlapping in the wind\u003cbr\u003e\nFor all the world to see\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eGive and take\u003c/strong\u003e \u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eDon’t give me\u003cbr\u003e\nAnything precious\u003cbr\u003e\nI’ll only lose it\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eDon’t take\u003cbr\u003e\nAnything precious \u003cbr\u003e\nfrom me\u003cbr\u003e\nI’ll never forgive you\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"Three poems","date_published":"2020-04-12T23:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/fa0fb72c-2a0d-4f1b-ad37-cd56a4d9d9ad.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":1713427,"duration_in_seconds":106}]},{"id":"f6c2004c-9bd1-482a-8687-e67ca954f938","title":"9: Poem: Bone Structure","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/9","content_text":"Bone  Structure\n\nPared down,\nBone dry\nAs a skull’s fragile arch,\nThe curved blue dome of sky.\n\nInsects sip,\nRoots cling,\nbrittle heather recedes \nfrom the moor’s withered forehead.\n\nEmpty orbits, \npools of shade,\nrock limbs\nsleep \nbeneath \nthe land they made.\n\nWaking blue, powder blue,\nColours lightly cut and flung\nto where\nHigh\na pale thin fingernail of moon \nhangs \nemptied of all fortune telling","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eBone  Structure\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003ePared down,\u003cbr\u003e\nBone dry\u003cbr\u003e\nAs a skull’s fragile arch,\u003cbr\u003e\nThe curved blue dome of sky.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eInsects sip,\u003cbr\u003e\nRoots cling,\u003cbr\u003e\nbrittle heather recedes \u003cbr\u003e\nfrom the moor’s withered forehead.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eEmpty orbits, \u003cbr\u003e\npools of shade,\u003cbr\u003e\nrock limbs\u003cbr\u003e\nsleep \u003cbr\u003e\nbeneath \u003cbr\u003e\nthe land they made.\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eWaking blue, powder blue,\u003cbr\u003e\nColours lightly cut and flung\u003cbr\u003e\nto where\u003cbr\u003e\nHigh\u003cbr\u003e\na pale thin fingernail of moon \u003cbr\u003e\nhangs \u003cbr\u003e\nemptied of all fortune telling\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"Where the writer gains a sense of connection with the earth and sky","date_published":"2020-04-12T07:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/f6c2004c-9bd1-482a-8687-e67ca954f938.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":904024,"duration_in_seconds":55}]},{"id":"b260a7ae-c3ef-49d2-8e77-96dd20693afe","title":"8: History: Crucem, Sanctam, Subiit","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/8","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"Antony Bek - Edward I's warrior bishop and crusader recalls his life in Edward's service","date_published":"2020-04-12T01:15:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/b260a7ae-c3ef-49d2-8e77-96dd20693afe.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":5776123,"duration_in_seconds":166}]},{"id":"5c5d0480-0d9f-4f54-98a5-0a47efef2ffe","title":"7: Poem: The road to Mam Tor is impassable to traffic","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/7","content_text":"The road to Mam Tor is impassable to traffic\n\nA yellow splash of paint marks the head\na driven rivet in the road\na surgeon’s spray, now a sign \nforgotten gesture of a long lost hope \n\nA yellow flower  decorates a fissure,\nOvergrown, close-knit with grass.\nThe tarmac surface lifts and bends\nfour hundred warped and laddered yards\n\nThis buckled climb, once steep, now fractured, \nLong off the tourists’ travel plan\nno injected steel or pin will \nuntwist this broken high way’s spine\n\nMam Tor –  not just a peak, but valley mother,\nmastectomy of weakened stone\nIs scalpel slashed winter by winter\nIts flesh revealed, its muscles torn\n\nI remember Mam Tor mists from way back\nWhen in, my teenage cavern guiding days,\n‘You can’t see ‘tor today Bettie’\nWould stretch our coffee-and-twix tea-breaks\n\nToday I climb high summer paths.\nHeat lifting thermals of distant sheep cries \nFlinging fine dust from Earl’s cement works\nscorching into my swelling eyes\n\nI now climb in sun\nblinded not by tears from visiting \nmy brother’s grave in the valley below\nbut from the pulverized lime\ncarried in on the High Peak breeze\n\nI can’t see the ridge of our hills, his valley, \nOr the trains that pass his grave at \nexactly twenty to the hour. \n\nI can’t see the tor today","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eThe road to Mam Tor is impassable to traffic\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eA yellow splash of paint marks the head\u003cbr\u003e\na driven rivet in the road\u003cbr\u003e\na surgeon’s spray, now a sign \u003cbr\u003e\nforgotten gesture of a long lost hope \u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eA yellow flower  decorates a fissure,\u003cbr\u003e\nOvergrown, close-knit with grass.\u003cbr\u003e\nThe tarmac surface lifts and bends\u003cbr\u003e\nfour hundred warped and laddered yards\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eThis buckled climb, once steep, now fractured, \u003cbr\u003e\nLong off the tourists’ travel plan\u003cbr\u003e\nno injected steel or pin will \u003cbr\u003e\nuntwist this broken high way’s spine\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eMam Tor –  not just a peak, but valley mother,\u003cbr\u003e\nmastectomy of weakened stone\u003cbr\u003e\nIs scalpel slashed winter by winter\u003cbr\u003e\nIts flesh revealed, its muscles torn\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI remember Mam Tor mists from way back\u003cbr\u003e\nWhen in, my teenage cavern guiding days,\u003cbr\u003e\n‘You can’t see ‘tor today Bettie’\u003cbr\u003e\nWould stretch our coffee-and-twix tea-breaks\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eToday I climb high summer paths.\u003cbr\u003e\nHeat lifting thermals of distant sheep cries \u003cbr\u003e\nFlinging fine dust from Earl’s cement works\u003cbr\u003e\nscorching into my swelling eyes\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI now climb in sun\u003cbr\u003e\nblinded not by tears from visiting \u003cbr\u003e\nmy brother’s grave in the valley below\u003cbr\u003e\nbut from the pulverized lime\u003cbr\u003e\ncarried in on the High Peak breeze\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI can’t see the ridge of our hills, his valley, \u003cbr\u003e\nOr the trains that pass his grave at \u003cbr\u003e\nexactly twenty to the hour. \u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eI can’t see the tor today\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"Whereby the writer attempting to ascend the ridge between Mam Tor and Losehill finds himself blinded by dust from Earl's cement works","date_published":"2020-04-10T23:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/5c5d0480-0d9f-4f54-98a5-0a47efef2ffe.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":2453620,"duration_in_seconds":152}]},{"id":"97b7e73a-f336-45ab-99cf-8a97c4260ee8","title":"6: Poem: The Prisoner","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/6","content_text":"The Prisoner\n\nWater binds unconscious earth\nAt this the still-point of the year\nWith night-times long\nAnd mornings numbing\n\nPulses slow\nTo count the hours\nFish, unblinking, face upstream\nScales poised against the current\n\nRoots hang\nFreeze and crack\nFingers crusty\nGrunt with earth crumbs\n\nSubmerged pebbles roll\nSand grains, flakes of stone \nEddy upwards\nFiltering the winter’s sunlight\n\nIcebound soil shears from the riverbank\nSet free by the thaw\nFalling, an escaping prisoner,\nTumbling into the moving stream\n\nAs the earth turns to water\nAnd water air\nIn the shallows where the trees sweat\nI stand\n\nAnd feel\nArms, hands,\nYoung as the melt\nDark, stained, veined with leaf-mould\nClasping, holding\nPulling me down\nBringing me\nInto the dark\nTo the warm and waking\nSlow, slow, heart throb","content_html":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eThe Prisoner\u003c/strong\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eWater binds unconscious earth\u003cbr\u003e\nAt this the still-point of the year\u003cbr\u003e\nWith night-times long\u003cbr\u003e\nAnd mornings numbing\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003ePulses slow\u003cbr\u003e\nTo count the hours\u003cbr\u003e\nFish, unblinking, face upstream\u003cbr\u003e\nScales poised against the current\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eRoots hang\u003cbr\u003e\nFreeze and crack\u003cbr\u003e\nFingers crusty\u003cbr\u003e\nGrunt with earth crumbs\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eSubmerged pebbles roll\u003cbr\u003e\nSand grains, flakes of stone \u003cbr\u003e\nEddy upwards\u003cbr\u003e\nFiltering the winter’s sunlight\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eIcebound soil shears from the riverbank\u003cbr\u003e\nSet free by the thaw\u003cbr\u003e\nFalling, an escaping prisoner,\u003cbr\u003e\nTumbling into the moving stream\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eAs the earth turns to water\u003cbr\u003e\nAnd water air\u003cbr\u003e\nIn the shallows where the trees sweat\u003cbr\u003e\nI stand\u003c/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eAnd feel\u003cbr\u003e\nArms, hands,\u003cbr\u003e\nYoung as the melt\u003cbr\u003e\nDark, stained, veined with leaf-mould\u003cbr\u003e\nClasping, holding\u003cbr\u003e\nPulling me down\u003cbr\u003e\nBringing me\u003cbr\u003e\nInto the dark\u003cbr\u003e\nTo the warm and waking\u003cbr\u003e\nSlow, slow, heart throb\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"Whereby the writer truly tells of a winter experience at the stepping stones over the river Derwent at Hathersage","date_published":"2020-04-10T00:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/97b7e73a-f336-45ab-99cf-8a97c4260ee8.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":1445743,"duration_in_seconds":89}]},{"id":"bc9e507a-026d-4446-85c6-a20bc16b65a0","title":"5: Story: Be my friend on Facebook?","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/5","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"The past comes back to haunt a watercolorist who decides to take an unforeseen opportunity into his own hands","date_published":"2020-04-09T12:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/bc9e507a-026d-4446-85c6-a20bc16b65a0.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":1828376,"duration_in_seconds":113}]},{"id":"127b9abf-2de9-45b6-b85c-86aefb33c140","title":"4: Story: A Norseman thinks of Climate Change","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/4","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"The norse settlements in Greenland have failed …","date_published":"2020-04-08T01:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/127b9abf-2de9-45b6-b85c-86aefb33c140.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":2646326,"duration_in_seconds":164}]},{"id":"e36c89a5-b0da-4ea2-988a-c285cc0b7f7d","title":"3: History: It's a sin!","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/3","content_text":"We all commit indiscretions but some sins are worse than others - you have been called before the consistory court  where the Archdeacon would judge cases relating to church law.","content_html":"\u003cp\u003eWe all commit indiscretions but some sins are worse than others - you have been called before the consistory court  where the Archdeacon would judge cases relating to church law.\u003c/p\u003e","summary":"We all commit indiscretions but some sins are worse than others","date_published":"2020-04-07T05:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/e36c89a5-b0da-4ea2-988a-c285cc0b7f7d.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":4448164,"duration_in_seconds":103}]},{"id":"05e8e6c4-3553-4c06-895f-e1a6830862e8","title":"2: History: Crime and Punishment","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/2","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"Justice used to be so much simpler in the 'Good Old Day' - just be grateful you didn't come up before this judge","date_published":"2020-04-06T09:15:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/05e8e6c4-3553-4c06-895f-e1a6830862e8.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":4640844,"duration_in_seconds":115}]},{"id":"47f3dfa6-4f64-4bd5-95bf-e3d986c039c7","title":"1: History: The Priest in the Tower","url":"https://crumpledstories.fireside.fm/1","content_text":"","content_html":"","summary":"You are on pilgrimage to a shrine to redeem your sins. Have you been a good boy or girl? Help the priest absolve you of your misdeeds.","date_published":"2020-04-05T06:00:00.000-04:00","attachments":[{"url":"https://aphid.fireside.fm/d/1437767933/d14f2377-c32d-405c-b58b-3dc918336ead/47f3dfa6-4f64-4bd5-95bf-e3d986c039c7.mp3","mime_type":"audio/mpeg","size_in_bytes":3008704,"duration_in_seconds":75}]}]}