At Lower Shaw Farm Writers Cafe last night I was inspired by an award winning sestina by Andrew Barber. My sestina combines two events in 2009, my hour on Antony Gormley's 4th plinth project in Trafalgar Square and my ten years sober.

One clear bottle

On my plinth a bottle,

full of last month’s London air,

bunged with cork, ships sails inside,

in the shadow of Nelson’s sandstone back,

batik billows, bulges, through imagined wind

caught in a moment

For an hour long, fifteen minutes moment

shovel handed Antony gave me the bottle

to stand alone, facing the square, battling the wind

an inverted artist in mid air

tourists snapping at my back

baffled by the one, the other, that won’t let them inside

Exposed on the surface, I escaped inside

grappling, restraining my public, private moment

retracing years wed to the bottle

that stumbling stagger four sheets to the wind

this past present thought jars like cold air

reviving memories of a life won back

Travelling forwards to make my way back

stormy moods, tsunami inside

waved farewell, just for the moment

as an empty vessel became the final bottle

on the road I now wind

with changing tack and following air

A life strengthening, pushing, wishing air

a spine nailed to my sagging back

strengthening brakes that smoke inside

catching this off guard moment

as I stare at this giant tiny bottle

vivid sails swallowing London wind

A special, passionate, stale wind

of bottle locked English air

trapped on deck when the bung thumped back

wax seal to keep the outside inside

saving the gasp of completion’s moment

to weave round Yinka’s ship in a bottle

I stand inside the wind

on a voyage of reflection, gulping back air

from an empty bottle, ten years aged, my victory moment