March 2020

It's not completely silent; I can hear the birds

And my head is still spinning with those repeated words;

Quarantine, 

Lockdown, 

Virus, 

Death

Wondering what on earth could happen to us next.

Not a cloud in the sky and the sun is shining,

At least the rain is self-isolating. 

Hints and tips and tricks online 

For how to stay safe and stay inside;

Read a book, 

learn a skill, 

do something new

Not quite that easy if your side-kick is two...

My daughter's already worn all her fancy dress,

The kitchen's in a state, the living room's a mess,

I've logged into work on a lap-top on my lap,

My toddler has just tried to paint the ears of the cat

It's the start of the lockdown - I must work and care as well

Is this the embodiment of the phrase "a living hell"?

Well, at least we are healthy, and at least we're all fine,

But all of this could change soon as it's only half past nine.

Dial in to a work call...

My daughter waves "hello" 

Then wets herself and tells me that she didn't "need to go"

Put on the washing, make lunch, drink tepid tea.

Dial in to another 'zoom' with a background of "MUMMYYYYYYYY!!!!"

Put her in the garden, get an extension lead,

Sitting by the double doors and feel the spring-like breeze.

Lunch is rushed and panicked - just a sandwich and some crisps! 

It's impossible, and manic, how will we cope like this?

But... 

I'd dreamt of spending all my days with my precious child,

I'd spent most of the winter wishing days were warm and mild

I'd wished I didn't have to rush from here-to-there and then

Have to do the whole journey from there-to-here again.

It's the age-old story of the monkey's severed paw,

You really must be careful of what it is you wish for

Lockdown

Thank heavens the pubs are open! 

I was beginning to wonder why

The Tory Government had tried 

To keep us all inside

When all we wanted 

All we desired 

Was a warm pint

In an unwashed glass 

To watch the lockdown pass

In a sticky 'Spoons 

beyond our living rooms.

It's a good job, too

The Tory Government had tried

To buoy up the NHS 

With private healthcare no less,

Bailout Branson but no PPE,

No protections for the key-worker community,

Not allowed to travel beyond your locality.

Unless it's to Durham to test your eyes,

Provided you can back it up with lies,

and omissions and a circuitous timeline

That means you travelled the length of the country

To get child care; yes, that's fine. 

If you earn well, live well,

You'll get treated well; survive!

If you're in a regular 9-5

Earning more than you're due,

Due to going to the right school

Having the right name, the right colour skin,

Provided you fit in... you'll be fine...

Good luck if you're on the frontline.

At Westonbirt Arboretum

The “could-be-anywhere-ness”,

Organised chaos, 

The well-maintained mess

Of leaves intertwined with leaves intertwined with leaves.

Civilised picnic, hide and seek,

Superfluous trees;

A hundred different shades of green,

And yellow,

And red. 

Bimbling paths and dappled tracks,

Shadey spots,

Sunny traps. 

Take the footbridge ad-Libitum,

The handsome, timeless arboretum.

I Don’t Want Breakfast in Bed, Dear

No, I don’t want breakfast in bed, Dear,

And I’ll tell you the reason why... 

if I have to clean the sheets again,

It will surely make me cry. 

No, I don’t want an “indoor picnic”,

A T.V dinner on the settee..

Because who is the one who’ll vacuum the crumbs?!

Me!! It’s always me!!! 

I want you to take the baby, Dear, 

So I can get some sodding sleep 

Or offer to wash the dishes,

Or give the floors a sweep! 

Or offer to do the laundry,

And tidy your clothes away,

Or take the baby for a walk,

For an hour... or half a day! 

I want you to dust the cobwebs,

Pick toys up off the floor,

Let me have a bubble bath,

And promise that you’ll never snore! 

I don’t want flowers or chocolates,

Although roses are quite sweet.

I just want you to help me...

And I just need some sleep!!! 

45th President of the United States

In this modern Post-factual age

Every newspaper, every page,

Is covered with the promises made

And broken

By the showman.

Bucking tradition of the Big Top Tent,

He forwent the Top Hat,

Favouring instead the inflammatory Red

Of the mop on top of his head,

A potent mix of fact and fallacy.

The definition of Democracy:

A State governed by the majority.

Or 46.5% apparently. 

"Friends, Romans, Countrymen,

(Of specific race and creed)

Lend me your ears, indeed...

I am one of you; I understand your need,

Yes I am full of dollars and greed,

But I share your thoughts, your deepest feelings,

I understand your want to keep glass ceilings,

Your casual racism, Your need to build walls

Your need for more malls,

Your chauvinistic, 

masochistic, 

capitalistic,

materialistic minds.

Your preference for reality TV,

Your preference for ME! 

You voted, you chose this, Q.E.D!

Let me tell you something about,

How lucky it is for you that I'm rich,

That nasty woman, Hilary, what a..” 

Way to win an election;

Just rhetoric and mis-direction.

The first 100 days in Office,

For the veteran novice,

Still wet behind the ears,

Young in wisdom, not in years.

The star spangled slogan,

Is vacuously re-spoken,

Repeated and re-tweeted,

A punchy add-on token.

Let’s Make America Great Again.

Armistice Day

I woke up this morning to listen to the news.

Hearing people’s views

on whether footballers should wear a poppy on their arm.

The Welsh team said no,

They said the penalty imposed would do them harm…

Imagine what the World would be like if one of our regiments refused to fight,

refused to risk their lives

for the lives of people they don’t even know…

but for a game, 

a game,

a team said no…

So it goes.

Dulce et decorum est. 

It is sweet and glorious.

Is it sweet and glorious to be swamped in mud,

or coughing up dust,

watching the blood dry?

A soldier doesn’t cry.

Marches on. Saves someone.

Gets injured trying.

Returns home to half the nation decrying

the need for a military.

Arguing the war was illegal, why can’t we just

discuss over tea.

Opium is a drug to forget.

To float in to a dream detached from reality,

Opium is a drug to forget,

It is found within the head of the poppy.

A poppy is worn for remembrance,

For respect. Not to forget.

Dulce et decorum est

Adulting

Never grow up as Peter Pan said,

Or was it Taylor Swift? 

Whichever, it means the same; 

If you grow up you become boring, old and lame

In every sense; no more running in rain

Or jumping in puddles, or laughing at jokes

That are silly and innocent and full of fun and Sun,

No more swings or slides, or beach donkey rides...

Just insomniacs,taxes, credit card maxes.

It's not all like that; it's not a trap. 

Yes it's hard. Yes you have to work at it,

Sometimes you just have to smile and grit,

And hold on tight and hope you're alright. 

I've had my share of knocks and set backs,

And morally ambiguous attacks

On my character or way of life, 

I've had my share of toil and strife.

But you know what? 

I've had my share of beauty too

I've seen the sunrise on Beacon Hill.

I've felt that chill

That runs down your spine when you see someone fine

When they smile and talk to you.

When the love of your life says "I do"

I've learnt to control my fear, to pick up spiders.. 

(in a glass) but still...

And release them on to the window sill.

I've kissed in the rain, experienced pain, 

I've read all the greats, 

I love Lolita, the Master and Margerita,

Crime and Punishment, and all other stories meant

For philosophising, 

Learning,

Yearning.

Not just the tale, but the morals there, too.

Don't get me wrong... I'm not bashing "Dear Zoo"

I've dyed my hair, cut my hair, grown my hair, 

(shaved my hair),

I've traveled far and wide, been a bride, felt so much pride,

Loved and been loved and been broken hearted.

Felt pleasure and pain when someone's departed, 

Experienced guilt, and lust and broke or gained trust,

Saved money, spent more,

Been exciting, been a bore,

Learnt music, languages, how to hold a drink,

How to speak, how to laugh, how to swim and not sink.

Yes there are taxes, yes there is stress,

Yes in the end, it all leads to death.

But there is too much 

Far, far too much in this world that is beautiful,

Too much to behold.

Too much to understand.

As a child it's great, but as an adult it's greater.

When you're holding the hand 

of your parent it's nice

Of your husband, it's nicer.

So go ahead. Grow up - not too fast, 

but enough to know

That as you're growing, there's some way to go.

So much to see.

So much to do.

So much to taste and smell and like and hate.

Read that book, eat that oyster, go on that date.

Just enjoy it.

Every single bit.

Every moment 

Of sadness, of badness, 

Of big bawdy gladness.

You only get this once,

No second chance,

In this totally upside down,

Confusing, amusing, incomprehensible

completely nonsensical 

life.

Just laugh and cry and smile and love

Never regret the things you've done.

And grow up.

And have fun.

Rat Race

It's cold, it's drab, it's dark, it's wet, it's either snow or sleet,

I'm waiting for the bus to come and I can't feel my feet,

And seldom on the bus do I find a wretched seat,

And when I do, I feel it is a very welcome treat.

The Beeping of the doors and the ringing of the phones,

And the chatter of the school kids and the smaller childrens' moans,

And the snoring of the business man plugged in to his headphones,

And the rolling of the wheels as the yawning driver groans,

Sticky are the windows, and sticky is the floor, 

Sticky is the stairway, and sticking are the doors,

And eventually they open, like an OAP's old jaws,

And I'm released back to the city and its relentless craw. 

Then Sucked in to the underground, the veins of London Town,

The multicoloured arteries that pump the hoards around, 

I descend in to electric light, "This lift is going down",

And down I go to platform edge, a sea of vacant frowns.

Eye contact is forbidden, please keep well out of my space,

I wish your stinking pits were not so close to my poor face,

And why must that man listen to such excessive bass?!

Counting down the stops 'til I escape this hellish place,

We're held at a red signal, My God I start to Pray,

And this; only the start of my outrageous, hectic day! 

All because I'm slave to a horrendously small pay,

And as I stand I dream of lands that aren't so far away.

The jerking of the brakes on steel, the stench of unwashed hair,

The stomp of boots, stiletto heels, "Lift Broken"; take the stairs,

Soon we'll be set free from the TFL Inhumane Snare,

One more flight of concrete steps and out in to the air.

It's cold, 

it's drab, 

it's dark, 

it's wet,

it's either snow or sleet,

I'm walking to my office and I still can't feel my feet. 

Shorts - a little compendium of "in the works"

Always

 

There will always be a little bit,

The smallest little slice,

Of me that's forever grateful 

That I have you in my life.

There are reminders every day;

Of you and me & me and you,

In everything I see and touch,

And taste and hear and do.

 

 

Epitaph

Bless this man for he is dead,

Because I hit him on the head

And so this soil is now his bed

I'm glad it's him, not me instead.

 

 

 

You Are What You Eat

I quite like eating apples

I had one for my tea

It wasn't very filling so,

I ate a further three.

I even ate all of the pips,

Now I'm an apple tree!

Dearest Headteacher

Dear Headmistress

 

My little darling, Chardonnay,

Returned to me from school today,

Her report card showed not a single “A”

I hope you see my point.

 

Chardonnay is a special child,

Gifted, sweet and kind.

She is a veritable genius

But with your teaching, falls behind.

 

I have read all the online blogs

And been on Mumsnet too,

They agree that Chardonnay is good,

So what are you going to do?

 

I know that she is “chatty”

And she can’t tie up her shoes

I know that she’s “unruly”

And can’t do her 2x2’s

 

But really she is very bright

I mean, just the other day,

She saw a picture of the Bard himself

And said “Mummy? Play?”

 

She can be quite a handful

But that’s easily answered by

A chocolate bar or candy

Or a new toy… or she cries.

 

I’m sure you understand me,

When I say how good I am;

At parenting, I’m number one!

Have been, since she was in a pram!

 

So it can’t be me, or my darling girl,

As we’re really trying hard.

Please could you see in your heart,

To change her report card?