Daydreaming on Guildford High Street

A lighter piece this. So easy to be transported from the now with the now


Stepping down the steepling cobbled High Street,

Past the detritus of the pandemic,

Shop closures universal, not endemic,

On the way to Luca’s for a lunch treat,

I’m ensnared by Massimo’s window sign;

“Final reductions! 80% off!”

Unable to resist such a bargain

(and loving all things Spanish, women and wine)

I enter, browse. There’s a discrete cough.

I turn, think I’m back in Eden’s garden.


Sun singing in her freckled eyes she smiles,

And I’m sold on the cotton shirts I’ve eyed

and her, transported back to the beginning

from where I fast forward to the ending,

her lips already on mine, hot sweat sweet

softly pushed into my mouth, tongue probing

against mine, body tender, stomach taut;

’96, it was, on the Ibizan beach

where we first met – I selling ice-cream cones,

she a maths post grad island hopping –

Stopped: explored each other’s peninsulas

Separated from the world,

Knowing only the other’s will,

The wild green bay of the flesh,

Invisible moons visible only to the other,

Lust rapidly changing into love,

And our lives adjusting to its nuances….


“Sir? Do you need any help in choosing?”

I shake off the visions, watch them dissolve,

Mumble, “Estoy mirando,” my heart guiding

Me back into the orbit of the heart waiting.

© Bhi 2023
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A very entertaining read, Bhi. Knowing Guildford many years ago, the cobbled bit hit home, and then of course I was seduced first by the freckles and then by the taut stomach. (God they were the days, weren’t they!) You are to be congratulated for the wonderfully evocative structure that painted the scenes with such poetic words and phrases. I could feel the tingles and ‘feels’ – to use the modern vernacular. THIS surely, deserves an accolade, my friend.


Now you are asking! Hmm, I just asked Lady Griff and between us reckon the last time we were in Guildford was with our two daughters… in about 1988’ish. We’ve gauged that based upon how old we remember them being at the time, so it is only approximate.

As far as memories are concerned, I pass: I had a motor accident in 1961 and lost my memory. I still have problems getting events in the right order – hence Lady Griff being my memory guide!


A delightful reminisce; I was taken in by the evocation of Ibiza in your ‘salad days’; and of course, feminine beauty – any beauty – is eternal. I haven’t been to Guildford, it sounds interesting. a good one Bhi.


Guildford my home town. I read your poem with great joy the steepling cobbled High Street, what a lovely line, it captures it perfectly.
And the perfectly presented images, so powerful and evocative.
Reminding me of teenage dalliances, some actual, many hoped for 🙂
You have written so beautifully it’s more like looking at a lovely painting than reading words on a page. I’m in the Guildford past and present Facebook group, and wouldn’t recognise today’s town. Sue.


Ah, the Friary, I worked there when it was the brewery, I started as the first ever post girl, all were boys before me. Worked my way up to second in charge of the Addressograph office. Happy years 🙂


You have painted an attractive picture of a place I never visited. The thought of a lunch treat at Luca’s is very appealing and though not interested in the 80% clothes reduction, the fact that it can inspire dreams of long ago Spanish holiday romances makes Guildford a destination not to be missed.

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