We read ‘There’s no after school club for the moons of Jupiter’ by Britta Benson and the poems ‘The Train’ and ‘Traivel’ by Colin Bramwell, from his collection 'Foeer Pessoa'.

Photo by Manny Moreno on Unsplash. This podcast was supported by Creative Scotland.

June 2025: The Road Less Travelled

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Josh's story goes completely off the rails, Rich's tale delves into the psyche of a human jock strap AND makes you care about him, and Jeff's tales diverge into comedy and tragedy at the intersection of STORYLORDS!

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Episode 63: Rebirths & Malfunctions

Telecast - #046 - Telecasting to the cosmos! Welcome to the forty-sixth TELECAST. A series of podcasts that I am releasing monthly with the humble aim of combining the music I find, love, and want to share into a set for everyone to enjoy. Hopefully, it will become your go-to place for a fix of good music.

This is a special Hedoné édition. Extra long. Only great music!

Enjoy!

Telecast - #045 - Playlist 
001 Acker Bilk - Stranger on the Shore
002 Khruangbin - Summer Madness
003 leifur james - suns of gold
004 Perfect - Funky Porcini
005 AIR - Alone in Kyoto
006 Ben Lukas Boysen - Nocturne 3
007 DARKSIDE - Are You Tired- (Keep on Singing)
008 Vangelis - Blade Runner Blues
009 Rare Bird - Passing Through
010 George Yanagi & Nadja Band - 「祭ばやしが聞こえる」のテーマ (Theme for Festival Past)
011 Royksopp - Daddy's Groove
012 Akasha - Soft and Melting
013 Makeke - Yuri
014 King Kooba - Green Flash
015 Richard Schneider, Jr. - Hello Beach Girls
016 leifur james - mumma don't tell
017 Nikosh - Pace
018 Mondocane - Golfo Dopa
019 The Oddness - One Sun One Moon
020 Sol Damba - Dune
021 Oonga & Don Mescal - I Keep Flying feat. Dove Raven
022 DARKSIDE - S.N.C
023 Bām̐dara - Yliam Skank feat. Youthie & Rasfiki
024 Captures - Deep Visions
025 Niju - Back to Past
026 Prismatica - Blessed in Sound
027 Niju - Shewolf
028 Kolja & bepo - High Five
029 Colour Your Mind - Deser(t)rain (Haptik Remix)
030 Nat Barrera - Attempt to Fly
031 Kerala Dust - Bell
032 Kerala Dust - I Remember You A Dancer
033 Geplantes Nichtstun & Fai Baba - Asado Western
034 Jon Hopkins - Wire
035 Maribou State - Kingdom
036 Bloodflow - Grandbrothers
037 Maribou State - Beginner’s Luck
038 Postas de Pescada Records - G.A.C. - Ir e Vir (Birdzzie Edit)
039 Nocturne 4 - Ben Lukas Boysen
040 Alice - Grandbrothers
041 Jon Hopkins - Small Memory
042 Alaskan Tapes - White Pine Walk
043 Benedict Cumberbatch - Flat of Angles, Pt. 2 (Late Night Tales Story)

More Telecasts

Telecast - #046

Apart but under the same stars

Clowne Bridge

Of Sleds and Space

THAT FRIEND

So it's going to be this kind of day, is it?  Just as well to know.



You stand:

eyes screwed shut

legs apart

bending over, as instructed

and, of course, naked

– save for a pair of gloves that, despite having been supplied with the product, are proving, by even the most generous of metrics, less than fully fit for purpose;

head hanging over the bath, hair slicked thick and dripping with a substance that – and there's no escaping this – is a markedly less promising shade than the putative one being sported by the pouty 20-something on the packet

...but which you remain hopeful (in defiance of previous experience and your own gut instinct) will end up suiting you better than the last one did. And the two before.

You are at the rinsing-off stage, shower head in hand, gradually resigning yourself to the quiet realisation that no matter how long you wait, the water is never going to get any warmer now: the hot tank has run out.

And from somewhere in another room, your mobile summons you – a text alert.

Hang on... what day is it?  Oh fuck. Your friend!

Said they would ring. Had something big to talk about, they said – to ask – too complicated to explain up front: the kind of thing that's better spoken, heard in realtime; shared, not thrown down on a screen. Said they'd text you first to check, make sure you were around and had the time: THAT friend – the one who's always opened up to you, has opened you up too, who values your advice, whose emails make you smile, someone you've really grown to like ...perhaps a little more so than you're willing to admit.  That friend.

Stumbling from the bathroom, semi-blind and likely dripping dye in every room en route, you hunt your phone.  Phone... Phone... PHONE..!!  Where the fuck did you last put the bastard thing?  Why can you never leave it in the same place twi...oh there it is.

Clear the blur out of your eyes...  it's them.


Ah.  Right.  Fair enough.

They won't be calling, after all. Problem's sorted itself out. No need to trouble you with it. Too much to go into right now: they'll drop the juicy details in an email, in the week. In town today, they are, looking for shoes, something fancy for tonight: out clubbing – that new place. Gotta put yourself out there, intcha?  You never know...!  Emoji.  Emoji.  String of kisses.  Heart.

Before you’re halfway into your reply, the handset chimes again, lights up – another message? Not your friend: just that guy with the Gumtree ad, to tell you that the thing you had been waiting-kinda-maybe-hoping for's already gone.

So yeah: it's going to be this kind of day. Hit delete on him, get on with what you need to say. Keep it light and positive; include a jokey quip about your latest hair dye fail-in-waiting:  "Watch this space – pics to follow.  Yikes!"


Emoji.  Emoji.  String of kisses.  Heart.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

© Ken Cumberlidge  12-09-2020

That Friend

THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER


It's always the same. The moment you tell people you live in a decommissioned lighthouse, they make assumptions: that you're some kind of eccentric loner; that you're rolling in money; that you have an inordinate fondness for stairs.

None of it's true – at least, not in my case.  I mean, for starters, as lighthouses go mine's a very small affair: nothing like the image in your head right now.  Just an ordinary two-storey home with a lantern housing on top.  Detached, yes, and older than the rest of the estate, but otherwise unremarkable.

Yes, I did say "estate".  Not all lighthouses are offshore, you know.  Quite a few are inland, set back from the water's edge by a fair old distance.  Southwold is a good example.  Actually in the town centre, that one.  It's all about being on a convenient piece of high ground.  So long as the light is visible to shipping, that's all that matters.

Mine was on its own originally – I've seen old photographs of it surrounded by grazing cows – but when it got taken out of service, became a dwelling, then the land got sold on, the developers moved in and ...well, now we're just another address on a suburban back-road.  Beacon Avenue, they called it.  It's a nod to history, I suppose.

Quiet sort of a place, all told. Until the fog rolls in. Well, if your home came equipped with a 10kW generator and a 150 decibel compressed-air horn... wouldn't you be tempted?  Shame not to, I say.  So I do: fire it up, pop on my ear-defenders and let rip.  The locals kicked up quite a fuss the first few times but, as I pointed out to them, you wouldn't want 100,000 tons of oil tanker accidentally rocking up outside Budgens, would you?  It's only common sense.  Nobody bothers complaining these days.  They just sweep up their shattered window glass and carry on.

Not that it's all plain sailing (pardon the maritime bent there).  I have a long-standing dispute with the council. It's the bin lorry. Whoever they've got driving the thing is a menace. Six times it's happened now. Always on a Monday (that's how I know it's them, see – it's bin day):  I come home from work, and what do I find?  My wing mirror all askew – broken off completely, once.  Cost a fortune to fix.  Well, you can't get the spares for these old models.  I wouldn't mind, but I always take care to park half on the pavement, to leave room.  Couldn't do otherwise, really.  I mean, where else are you going to put a WWII U-Boat?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

© Ken Cumberlidge  20-02-2022
First published 14-07-2023 in the Pure Slush anthology “Achievement” (Lifespan Vol 8)

The Lighthouse Keeper

Kuthulun

an extension of suciogami unto 6petals;

torment or tease (someone) with the sight or promise of something that is unobtainable.

2 prompts, 3 stories, and infinite laughs! Hilarious podcast boys Rich Masters, Josh Henderson & Jeff Pennington create comedy tales from three genres, based on your prompts! Music by VidaZen!

FR/EN
Writer, visual artist, musician, narrator. Storyteller.

KEN CUMBERLIDGE: POETRY
To see the full text and publication details of any poem, click on its track title.

"Honest, unflinching, emotionally intelligent and stunningly crafted." - Cathy Carson

Multiple slam-winner, finalist at Hammer & Tongue Cambridge 2018 and 2019, Ken Cumberlidge cut his performance teeth on the pub poetry scene of the 1970s.

Since 2011 Ken has been based in Norwich, but can be lured out of cover by good company and an open mic - a proclivity that has led him to become an habitué of the slam poetry/spoken word scene.

Ken writes about love, sex, nature, loss, identity and queerness, with an occasional foray into the eerie and macabre.  Poke him with a sharp enough stick and he may even wake up long enough to get shouty about politics.

His work has appeared widely in print and online (Algebra of Owls / Allegro / As Above So Below / Bi All Accounts / Bogg / The Fiction Pool / Fire&Dust Anthology / Fragmented Voices / Impspired / Ink, Sweat & Tears / Ludd's Mill / Message in a Bottle / The Open Mouse / Picaroon / Pulsar / Pure Slush / Rat's Ass Review / Runcible Spoon / SMOKE / Snakeskin / Songs of Eretz / Spilling Cocoa… / Strange Poetry / Talking Soup / Timber Ghost Press ...etc).

Headline/featured poet at numerous events/venues, including:

Allographic Open Mic
Beth Hartley "A Holding" book launch
Cambridge PRIDE
FenSpeak
Fire&Dust, Coventry
Hammer & Tongue, Cambridge
High St Poetry, Ely
Incite! LGBTQIA+ Spoken Word Cabaret
Last Poet Standing, Norwich
Oooh Beehive
Poetry at Jurnet's
Poetry Non-Stop podcast
St Andrews Festival, Cambridge
Sunday Night Lives at the Flying Pig
Vron McIntyre "Random Trail" book launch

Space Kadett - Telling Stories with Music

A Space Kadett is someone who tends to space out often. He or she does not respond when directly spoken to. The Space Kadett is not necessarily a person of low intelligence or a heavy drug user, but rather one who is so easily lost in music that he or she loses all awareness of the surrounding physical world and gets completely absorbed into the music.

We share stories, poems and online resources to help keep us all reading, writing and connecting. As well as this podcast, we offer online Zoom meetings and a weekly newsletter. Find out more on our website http://www.openbookreading.com

New tracks tagged #Prose