Rich Uridge

Rich Uridge

Training company boss by day. Poet and a whole heap of other things by night. Plus the son of a mother who was killed in a care home while living with dementia.

Where non-believers pray

Luton and Dunstable Hospital

Scene one: a cubicle in A & E For what is deathIf not escapeFrom pain in this worldAnd promise in the next? The words sermon-like. Disembodied. A narrator.A bed of music. Pings and beeps. The baseline drone of a ventilator.…

A Shropshire Symphony Revisited

Five years ago it felt like the world had momentarily stopped spinning. The nightly Covid bulletins aside, everything seemed preternaturally silent. Planes stayed on the ground. Traffic halted. And without the usual din of everday life (and later the weekly…

Lorca’s Pencil

Photo of Federico García Lorca

Federico García Lorca was one of Spain’s finest poets. Assassinated by Fascists in August 1936 soon after the start of the Spanish Civil War his death should remind us of the dangers of fascism as it rises once again, not…

Rhayader Reveille

The Castle Hotel and war memorial Rhayader

Midnight strikes on the memorial clockA flame throwing dragon is guarding the flockWhile a gunpowder fog glistens and glosses The uniform slates and the uniform mosses. For God and for Country. Lest we forget. A window on North Street turned aquarium greenWhere a…

Dick’s Out or Wretched Urine

Photo of Richard Uridge at BBC News desk

Tradition has it that when you retire from or leave the BBC your colleagues produce a light-hearted video to mark the occasion. And so it was when I left BBC Pebble Mill’s Midlands Today in 1995. Watch out for wonderful…

Swift

First south and west, then north and east, I quarter up the sky.I’m watching for your sickle wings to scythe across my eye. I look, I look, then look again and listen for your scream.But bar the clap of pigeon…

Death is only the beginning

A photo of mum at the helm on a family boating holiday

I’m not a big fan of anniversaries. The ones you want to forget, you remember. The ones you want to remember, you forget.  And so it was I found myself wide awake early this morning exactly a year to the…

From journalist to poet

The “words on a line” world premiere Yup, calling it a world premiere may sound hyperbolic. But, technically at least, it happens to be true… So here I am in full flow (rapture the photographer, Fabio Barry, called it) belting…