{"id":8989,"date":"2015-08-03T08:00:16","date_gmt":"2015-08-03T08:00:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=8989"},"modified":"2015-07-29T10:09:54","modified_gmt":"2015-07-29T10:09:54","slug":"neil-fulwood-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/neil-fulwood-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Neil Fulwood"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Counting Sheep<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Single figures and your imagination<\/p>\n<p>has them as vague outlines,<\/p>\n<p>the cracked artex of the ceiling<\/p>\n<p>standing in for a fence.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Double figures and you\u2019ve mapped out<\/p>\n<p>the rest of the farm, a swathe<\/p>\n<p>of woodland over the bedroom door<\/p>\n<p>just to the right of a duckpond in the shape<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>of that irritating patch of mould<\/p>\n<p>unshifted by sugar soap and elbow grease.<\/p>\n<p>Three figures and they\u2019re bounding<\/p>\n<p>all over the place, clouting the lightshade<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>and worrying the coving. You\u2019ve lost count.<\/p>\n<p>You give up on sleep, wander downstairs<\/p>\n<p>for a glass of water, leave them<\/p>\n<p>in their endless parade above your bed.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Neil Fulwood<\/strong> was born in 1972, the son of a truck driver and the grandson of a miner. Nobody\u2019s quite figured out where the whole poetry thing came from. Neil is married, holds down a day job and subsidises several public houses. He hopes one day to be recognised in the New Year\u2019s honours list for his tireless efforts in this respect.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Counting Sheep &nbsp; Single figures and your imagination has them as vague outlines, the cracked artex of the ceiling standing in for a fence. &nbsp; Double figures and you\u2019ve mapped out the rest of the farm, a swathe of woodland over the bedroom door just to the right of a duckpond in [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8989","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8989","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8989"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8989\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8991,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8989\/revisions\/8991"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8989"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8989"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8989"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}