About Me

Sunday, 31 August 2008

Weekend of constrasts

What is with our weather? We have had almost two seasons in one weekend.
On Saturday morning I woke to sunshine and heat and what an August day should feel like. I took my tea and toast into the garden and sat relishing in the warmth and the sunshine. I looked up into the bright blue sky and witnessed the migration of hundreds of fairies. As I felt the gentle warm breeze on my face I strained my eyes to the top of the sky seeing more and more delicate wishes taking a journey, some flying higher and faster than others. I thought of the many dreams and wishes that would be made following a successful capture of a fairy, children wishing for new toys, for someone to be their best friend or perhaps that their first day of school wouldn't be too scary. I then thought of the grown ups who still catch fairies and believe in making wishes, grown ups like me, who wish for love, friendship, happiness and solutions. As I walked down the garden I rescued fairies who had been caught in the long grass and spiders webs, I thought by giving flight to the fairies again, I would be helping to make wishes come true.
If only I had kept one for myself and wished for a repeat of the weather for today.
Today, I had my first fishing experience which took place in the rain. Martyn and I were up early where the sun gave hint to burning away the early morning haze, but as we arrived at Teddington Lock, the mist moved slowly in creating a calmness to the morning. The air was so still, the Thames so quiet until thunder rumbled through the sky and the rain began. I sat huddled under a large umbrella watching the intricate setup for the day ahead. There is something very soothing about being out in the rain (when you are warm and dry!) I watched the droplets create music on the river, the tempo changing every few minutes with the odd clap of thunder providing a bass. I felt at peace as I watched and listened, feeling proud of the catch of the day - a 4lb perch (apparently it was a fine specimen of a fish!)
I didn't actually do any fishing, I hadn't actually been prepared in dressing for the rain so I stayed on my little seat in the dry and watched the multicoloured maggots escaping from their pots (they were coloured in a similar way to pilau rice) some had made a dash for the moss covered steps where with a valiant persistence they climbed the step, well, as high as they could until they fell off. I watched for around 10 minutes, transfixed on whether any of them would make it. None of them did, but the pink ones reached the highest.

Friday, 29 August 2008

Somedays I love you

A shadow creeps
Through a once loved heart
It states your reasons why
Yet believes the failing truth
Lust burns within
The soul makes judgements
On heartbeat promises
Believe in trusting the truth
Trust believing
Hope for trust
Trust hope

Thursday, 28 August 2008


Today I can't and don't want to write.
No poems or stories, words of love and living.
Today I just want to say

a million little pieces

Monday, 25 August 2008

At last....

I am so content. This weekend I have finally got round to purchasing a laptop for home. I no longer have to store up my ideas and thoughts in my head until I get to work where I steal moments to write on here, I can happily sit at home on my bubblegum pink laptop and write to my heart's content. At present, I am sat on my bed, after just devouring left over KFC feeling at peace that I am in my own home doing just what I want and when I want.

Monday, 18 August 2008

Questions for Carrie

I watched a few episodes of Sex and the City on Friday night. A few things have been on my mind so I have come up with the following for Carrie to write about or explain in a way I understand.

Should we make sacrifices in order to be happy?

Can love really make you turn a blind eye?

Is there such a thing as unconditional love? Don't we always have a conditions and expectations on how someone should be or behave. Is that right?

If anyone wants to answer these in Carrie fashion, answer away!

Friday, 15 August 2008

ipod poem

I am bored at work, don't feel like talking much today.
My ipod is on shuffle. This has been the last hour:

Life is wonderful
Beautiful world
Exploding machines
The boy in the bubble
Million faces
Might tell you tonight
Rainbows and pots of gold
I can't decide
Nothing really matters
Exo Politics
Living for the city
Change your mind

Thursday, 14 August 2008

For Emma

best friends as children
soul mates as adults
opposite sides of the world
but the distance never far

a reunion and adventure
freedom from the known
we saw it all
azure blue skies, turquoise sea and fire red sand

a journey of a lifetime
opportunity to discover
a chance to find and a place to be
time to heal
and just be.

Sunday fun

The wind was strong as we had fun throwing the aerobie
I laughed so hard at how far you had to run
The ground was damp as we collapsed from handstands
I melted in your arms as we kissed on the grass
The arcade was alive with noise as we played on the 2p machines
I giggled as I was crowned winner
The fair rides were quiet; the roller coaster creaked in the wind
I screamed as we plummeted
The fish and chips were salty and fresh
I smiled as we ate, sat in the sun with the sea at our feet
The afternoon was lovely
You were perfect
I was happy

Tuesday, 12 August 2008

Confuddled? I am

I am confused. Why couldn't I list more than one thing when asked what his good bits were? Ten years of being with someone and I could think of one positive attribute. I know there are/were more but why can't I find them? Have they faded away?

Why when I feel so happy do they highlight the negatives making me feel uneasy with my choices?

Why do they provoke and embarrass further when they can all see I am uncomfortable?

Why do you continue to behave that way when you know I find it insensitive?

Why can't you do your job properly and be as organised as me?

Why can't he be honest?


Old Photo

This is my Nan and Granddad
I love this photo. It looks like a hot summers day. I imagine them driving for a day out by the sea, the air hot and humid. Tempers rising in the heat as granddad gets lost; him shouting at nan because it is her fault ( it never was!) Nan muttering 'Oh shut up Arth'
I imagine them reaching their destination in silence, but being calmed by the smell of the sea air and the sound of the waves and as a peace offering, Granddad walking over to the ice cream van to buy two cans of pop, then him handing her the can and they sit, perching on the back of the car, supping pop in the sunshine.

Friday, 8 August 2008

The rescue of Green 10

I was attracted by your smooth, shiny exterior and the way that I could turn you in my hand and there would always be a star on your skin, a reflection of light, be it the sun, headlight or the kitchen light strip which flickers erratically.

It has been 1 year, 5 months, 3 days, 9 hours and 47 minutes since we first met and since then I have taken you everywhere with me. Some days I carry you effortlessly; my fingers fit perfectly in the space you provide. Other days, when it is hot and the air humid, I struggle to hold your weight and my arms become heavy and my fingers either slip from where they hang on to you, or they swell and I worry that we will be attached forever.
Sometimes I think I would like that, to have you with me always.

I have seen others like you, but they aren’t free. They live a monotonous life – rolling the same way and down the same lanes day after day. Sometimes I look at the others, their colours different to yours, you are one colour and the others are marbled with flecks of light. I feel guilty when I think about the others and I say sorry to you. I wouldn’t trade you for any of them. I promise.

My parents think that I am not well, they shout at me when I have you with me. They tell me to leave you alone, to put you back where I found you, to not be so strange. They don’t want a strange child. My mum always goes a shade of pink when she has to explain to her friends why I have you. She stutters and flusters, like a pigeon on the High Street trying to get out of the way of footsteps. Most of the time, she brushes the subject off with ‘ I don’t know where I went wrong, he clearly isn’t normal.’ I am normal I just have not-so-normal friends. My dad tries to grab your from me, but my fingers are always holding on tight. He has tried to take you in the night, he says it isn’t healthy or hygienic to have you in my bed, but because I am always attached, I know when he is trying. Last week I was grounded for nearly giving dad a heart attack. He had come into my room at night and was trying to prise you from my grasp. He had woken me up when he stood on the creaky floorboard; I like the fact I have a creaky floorboard, I like to think of it as an alarm, an intruder alarm, one that will save me from monsters and my dad. I waited a while, pretending to be asleep as he lifted my fingers one by one and just as he thought he was nearly there, that he would succeed in breaking our un-natural bond, I shouted "Boo". Dad jumped and hit his head on my model helicopter as he sprung to his feet, sending the model around in circles, as though the enemy had shot it down. He shouted at me, called me a ‘Stupid little shit’ and said something about being a freak for sleeping with you, before stating that he was ‘giving up’. As he slammed the door shut I chuckled and thanked you for giving me the idea.

You have never told me why you had come to be in the spot where I found you, but then I don’t know if I have asked you directly. I was just happy to have found you, mesmerised by your colour and intrigued by your name. I had been walking on the other side of the road, out of breath from the uphill climb and hungry for my dinner. The combination of maths and PE on a Thursday always made me ravenous for my dinner. I was already late but I couldn’t ignore you, I couldn’t leave you sat in the gutter surrounded by the wet autumn leaves looking cold. I was eager to cross the road, but it was gone five o’clock and workers were pouring out the city in a steady flow. I panicked that you might decide move on and not wait for me, so I ran, as quick as I could. Horns sounded, a voice shouted and I felt scared, but only for a moment, for once I bent down and picked you up, my fingers fitting perfectly into the 3 holes on your crown, I thought of how I was rescuing you and how that made me feel proud. I felt happy for I knew that I had found a friend for life.

Thursday, 7 August 2008


I wanted to take you home with me last night. You were so much bigger than last time I saw you and so much more delectable. Your cheeks full and round, your eyes beautifully blue with soft long brown lashes, which curled to frame your eyes.
You smiled at me, complete with a ga-ga soundtrack, your eyes widened and smiled. Five little fingers of strength gripped my thumb, a tight grasp - a promising handshake.
You smelled scrumptious – a soft sweet smell, the smell of tenderness and unconditional love.
I could watch you forever; watch you happy, content and smiling.

I think I feel broody.

Monday, 4 August 2008

Stolen for my blog

I go out late and come home early
I come home big though I am feeling small
I come home late and go out curly
Sometimes I never come home at all.
What in heaven's name have I done
I am breaking the speed at the sound of loneliness
Out there running, just to be on the run.

This isn't mine, it is Martyn's. I like it. I like the thought of going out curly.
I don' think there is enough curliness in the world.

Force fields of light

You are a vibrant Indian red as I travel towards you, my eyes fixed your veins as they contrast with eucalyptus green.
Stood with an elegant profoundness injecting life into the electric blue sky
The heat makes you pulse, your heart buried deep within.

As the great yellow star burns lower in the sky, your face blushes with a tinge of rose that softens your edges.
As the cyan deepens it suppresses your light, yet darkness doesn't touch you - not just yet, a magnolia and powder pink force field protects your base.

Your colour darkens yet doesn't deepen the magic around you.
Slowly you disappear. Your blanket of light not longer protects you, you are on your own in the darkness, where only the old move, streams of light inject your breath
You can't be seen, yet your presence is always felt.

Until again, the light tempts the dark and pushes it aside
Your paleness fades and your skin fills with life.
Blood orange red to citrus zest.
My eyes water, your vibrancy reaches out and once again touches the electric blue for another day.