A Cardboard Tube
September 2026

In memory of my dear friend Vicky Bazgier

A cardboard tube
On my table
Filled with precious memories.

On a grassy bank
beside the Thames at Hampton Court
she said "You're a Bumblebunion!"
I interrogated my instant nonsense-word generator
and replied "And you're a Gurglewarbler!"
The nicknames stuck
and we becames Bunion and Warbler
for the next thirty-five years.

In a water taxi
coasting towards the 14th century
rising like ghosts in the evening gloom around us
she introduced me to Venice
for the very first time.

At Inchiquin Valley
down a narrow 5-mile track
no passing places, no people, no cars but ours
we stood hand-in-hand
watching the afternoon set over Cloonee Lough
as it became my favourite place in the world.

At Kings Canyon
we watched the perfect Californian sunset
with awe and silence,
no words were necessary,
she knew and I knew.

On the hill above Whitby
amidst the Abbey ruins
laden with the spirits of the past,
she felt a powerful connection
so strong it brought her to tears.
Twenty years later, almost to the day,
same place, same reaction, same tears.
Sometimes feelings can't be explained.

These memories now reside
in a bag full of ashes
in a cardboard tube
on my table.