Tuesday, 13 November 2007



I need a parrot
Not called Polly,
It could sit on my shoulder
Look rather jolly.
What colour would I like?
Don’t really know,
Yet not fond of the grey ones
They don’t look parrotty,
You know
Nice bright colours
Would suit me fine
So long as it looked
Where it was shitting
And vacated my shoulder in time.

I just wrote that after having a discussion with a friend about my impending ankle operation. I'd been saying that I perhaps should just have a wooden leg fitted and get the parrot to complete the look. To me, I feel it needs some re-drafting, and will probably tweak the words and form , but only slightly, another line or two might appear as well.

Wednesday, 7 November 2007


Usually umbrella-shaped apparatus allowing person or heavy object to descend safely from a height, esp. from aircraft. Yes, that’s what the dictionary says about parachutes. I remember the little parachuting things you could get in a lucky bag when I was young. A moulded soldier, with his own little parachute. If Chris would let us, we would throw them out of our bedroom window. Other toys would have parachutes made from cotton handkerchiefs, and they would be tested.
Most people who parachute have two, one spare in case the regular one doesn’t work, but what if the second one doesn’t work? I know the old joke, cross your legs so that when you hit the ground you’ll screw yourself in, then it’s easier to get you out. It’s not the fall that kills you, well, most of it does no harm, it’s just the last few feet, and the pull of gravity.
But what is a parachute? It’s a kind of safety device, like the safety net at a circus, when the acrobats go onto the high wire. Seat belts in a car as well, they are safety devices. I hate seeing people driving around with their kids not belted in, apparently the police can stop the car and charge the driver and standing fee of £25, or thereabouts, for each passenger not wearing a seat belt.
Anyway, back to the parachutes, I love the little parachutes on dandelion seeds. Even now I like to blow at a dandelion clock, and see all the seeds blow away. The part of me that weeds the garden doesn’t like me doing that, but the big kid inside me likes it. And I let the big kid have their fun every now and again.
Would I like to parachute jump? Well, no, not really, seems to me a very dangerous thing to want to do. If we were meant to jump from planes we would have wings. Although I wouldn’t mind paragliding, or whatever they call it, where you have a huge canopy and get the wind to lift you, and you travel on the thermals. I watched someone doing that at Heysham Head one day, it must be incredibly restful. Then there’s the one’s who have parachute like canopies, and surf boards, kite surfers I think. That looks so much fun, I think the thing that makes me like some activities and not others is the amount of control over a situation you can have.
During the war some women got married in dresses made out of parachute silk. Not quite sure where they got their parachutes from, or was it after the war, I’m not sure. If I had a character having their wedding dress from parachute silk I would check up the facts, and make sure I got the timing right.

Tuesday, 16 October 2007


This one just is what the title says. I challenge you to follow my train of thought here! I just let my mind go on the word Random.

The name of Arthur Dent and Tricia McMillan’s daughter in Mostly Harmless. She takes Arthur’s watch apart to try to see how it functions/ works. At times I think I should have called Shadow, Random, as sometimes when you walk her she bounces all over the place. She’s still very much a puppy at heart.
The dictionary definition is without method or conscious cause. Also without aim.
Well that’s how I feel at the moment. Fairly flaming aimless. I wish that I could focus myself on something, totally immerse myself in it and then I might get a feeling of achievement. One day I want to go in a hot air balloon…and fly over the hills, but will I? As I am afraid of heights, and may not even get into the balloon. Perhaps I would more likely get into a sailing boat and sail away, but lets be honest…with my ankle hurting like hell…am not likely to go anywhere….
I miss the sound of a certain voice, the smell of baking…cos I don’t do much of it any more. I miss not having a garden, but I don’t miss the weeding that entails. I miss having someone with me…even though I am officially in a relationship. I’m like a jigsaw, that my Mum has taken a piece of…why my Mum? Cos she always took bits out of my jigsaws when I was younger…she’d pick a piece up…when helping us to sort out the edges from the rest…and slip it into her pinny pocket…then come back when we’d almost finished.and PUT THE LAST PIECE in…it took ages before Ann and I caught on what she was up to…. Ann tumbled it first…she’s younger than me. But she is much more “savvy” than I am…nobody pulls the wool over Ann’s eyes and gets away with it. Anyway, a jigsaw with a piece missing…only the bit that is missing is in Spain…and one day…he’ll come back, and put it in place…and I’ll feel real again.

The short random quote is fromm Alan and Janet Ahlberg's " Each Peach Pear Plum"

Tuesday, 9 October 2007

Peach (by Sea)

Peach immediately brings to mind the fruit, peach, with it’s fuzzy, downy “fur” like the fine hair that covers a new born baby’s body. The first time you encounter that it is amazing, and it doesn’t stay long. People say that peaches are like a baby’s skin.
Peach slices with evaporated milk after cold meat sandwiches as a treat on a Sunday teatime. Or sometimes with bread and butter as a meal. Mum says we didn’t have that, so how come I remember having it. At least I never ate sugar butties, although Mum said she had them when she was young.
Granddad had a peach tree in his greenhouse, right next to the boiler. I remember it having tiny fruits on it one year, and when it was Granddad’s funeral the tree was still there. But by the time Grandma died the garden, The Ponderosa, was unkempt. The greenhouse was falling down, but the peach tree growing strong. Guess it didn’t need protecting against Pennine wind as much as Granddad thought.
Peach, peach, peach, each peach, pear, plum, I spy Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb in the cupboard, I spy Mother Hubbard. Oliver loved that book. I love nectarines much better than peaches, but you get some nasty ones. I think they must have been irriradiated as they never seem to ripen, and biting into them is like biting into an apple. Not the lovely experience it should be. The odd thing is, I’ve found that fruit from Netto and Aldi doesn’t seem to have been treated in anyway, and yes it does go off quicker, but when you pick it up, you can smell if it is ripe or not.
Peach, a lovely colour. I always think of it as an orangey – pink colour, but the ones in tins are yellow! Hmm, why?

Peach (by Blue)

Peach fuzz. Peaches and cream. Georgia Peaches. Peach cobbler. Which, by the way, is one of my top five favourite desserts in the whole universe. Especially with a big glob of vanilla ice cream. I could really use some right about now. I haven't had a good dessert in a while. Months in fact. I think I'd even settle for peach pie since it's close. Just pop some in the microwave and add vanilla ice cream. Voila! But now I've made myself hungry. *sigh*

Sunday, 7 October 2007

What is free writing?

For those who don't know, free writing, is where you write for around 1/2 an hour, about anything that comes into your head.
Directed free writing, is when you start from a specific word or phrase, and then write all that comes into your mind about that particular word or phrase. Sometimes ideas for further work are produced, or the piece may stand alone.
If you want to leave a word or phrase to be written about, please do so.

Saturday, 6 October 2007


Silver, that was the colour of grandma’s hair..And woe betide anyone who said her hair was grey! The chalice and platter in church were made of silver, and Mr Boultbee explained to us why most churches had silver wear rather than gold wear for their communions. Everyone thought he was dirty…he never seemed awfully clean..As a vicar, but being a kid…and not quite understanding…well…there was no Mrs, he lived with his sister and the Major. The Major had an imposing character. Perhaps time has muddled my memories…or the fact that the church has no special significance for me now…if it ever did have. Think the only time was just after Edwin was born, and try as I might…I will admit I was clutching at any straws that might help me keep my marriage together…as when I had gotten married…I did promise myself that I would stay married…and not go through divorce like I’d watched my brother do. Although looking back, Chris’ divorce looked pretty painless on his part …from where I was watching. After all…he had Mum and Dad and myself to help him look after his children, who he’d decided it wasn’t safe to leave with Lyn. And he went on being to all intents and purposes a single man. It was us who picked up the pieces for him.
When mine did come around..The circumstances were so different. No unfaithful spouse….unless you could being obsessed with a bank balance. My heart felt like it was falling apart, but I knew that if I didn’t do it..It would be my brain…intellect..Sanity that would suffer. Mental abuse is never visible, and the occasional dip into physical abuse…so swift that a 400 shutter speed would not catch it.
It takes so long to recover from all that, but every cloud has a silver lining…and mine is just becoming visible. I have been so patient.waiting for this to come about, it ain’t here yet…but the silver is glinting at me in a very shy way.

Friday, 5 October 2007


The most counter productive of all emotions. Who invented anger? Ok, someone gets you real mad, and you want to get your own back, but getting cross with them just feeds your anger, it makes you tense, can’t unwind, and ninety nine times out of a hundred you are felling worse than you were when the person got you angry in the first place. Granted there are times when anger can help you. How? I hear you ask. Say there’s something you really have to do, anger sometimes gives you the strength to carry out the task. Smashing up the solid lump of concrete where my fireback should have been, anger came in real handy there, after all, I’d been chipping away with a coal chisel and hammer for a few days, not moving much, so abandoning the job. Anyway, one day someone had got me really cross, I can’t remember why, and I thought I’d try again, within 20 minutes the concrete was shifted. I’d seemed to get extra strength from somewhere, and I could only put it down to being angry. The good thing about that was, having broken all the concrete up, it made me happy, so all the negative energies I’d had, because I had been angry were replaced by happy positive energies, as the job I thought would never end had just “melted” away. The only other time I can truly remember being so very angry was when I was having my third child, I’d had an epidural block, and I was beginning to get sensation back, but the baby wasn’t here, and it bloody well hurt. The midwife said that it would be too late by the time they got the anaesthetist there for me to have the epidural topped up. (It was Saturday evening.) I got cross at the pain I was in, and sure enough, within a few minutes my son was born. I wasn’t for one minute cross with him, it was just I was tired, having been in labour for the best part of 30 hours, and I just wanted it to end. And all that anger faded away as soon as I held my youngest in my arms, and again was replaced by positive emotions.
I have been on the receiving end of some anger in my life, and it is terrifying when people just let it take over. I’ve seen a hockey stick snapped in two, a panel punched out of a door, and in both these instances, there was no visible “happy ending”, and as far as I could see the angry person was still angry afterwards. I think he’s always angry. Anger is a red mist if not controlled properly and can be extremely dangerous, I suppose that is why people look for revenge, but my personal take on that is, that sooner or later a person who is always causing anger in others will reap the rewards of their anger. I try to avoid angry people.
I could have got angry the other night when I forgot to put water in my steamer, and cooked the veg with no water in the steamer, but all it would have done is get me stressed, stress causes your blood pressure to rise, also, the Fight or flight instinct kicks in, you can end up not being able to eat properly, and if you do eat, then being sick, as your digestive system is slowed down, and more often than not stopped during periods of “flight or fight” reaction, that is why people feel sick in stressful situations.