Heroes.

Heroes was a reasonably short running TV show I didn’t ever finish watching. It became, like Lost and 24, another terrestrial casualty- and once it had moved from the beeb, there was no way my old man would consider it a viable evening option. That said, the bits of the show that I did catch were pretty impressive. It probably all ended as a dream or something equally disappointing but, just for a minute, I am going to have a think about superpowers and poetry- my own little take on this week's theme. 

If I could be like the little Japanese man on the show and have a superpower, I would definitely try and work it to my advantage. There would be very little saving the world going on and a whole load of sitting invisibly in interesting people’s living rooms.

I have had the pleasure of being in the Lake District this weekend. We went up on Thursday night and since texting home to let them know we were safe, we’ve been cut off. At the time of writing I know no football scores, I know nothing of the news or this week’s talent show TV stars. I do know that I should be writing a shed load of ideas into poems though.

An interesting thing about a campsite is how up and down the noise levels can be. At night, you could assume that the noise would die off, maybe come back about 11 when the walkers drift in from the pub and then slowly, it will fade off again. What you never remember though is just how much voices can carry and, as I am not the quietest myself, it was a blessing to have a few hours after Lar had fallen asleep to just listen.

I am very much a night owl. I do my best writing in the evenings (out of habit, really) so to be in with the chance of listening in to the songs of the drunkards, watching three different figures move in and out of a 2 person pod (ooh-err) whilst all the time straining to hear just what the ‘girl [he] knew from Blackpool’ was like over the valley was great.

I’d love to be invisible if I could have any power. In my teens it had obvious appeal, in my early twenties it would have helped cheat exams and saved a hell of a lot of effort and now, just for a night or two, it has helped stoke up the campfire that is my imagination.

I’ve been in a place of literary heroes. I’ve sunbathed in Beatrix Potter’s back garden (not literally but what is forty yards), listened to Wordsworth’s hills and panted my way to all the inspired valleys and viewpoints within walking distance- all full of thoughtful sculptures and wow-bringing scenes.  I have been invisible, my superpower in a land of heroes and all that remains for me to do now is write everything up for my undercover report. Now, where did I pack that notebook…

Thanks for reading guys,
S