So, I went for a walk, and I stood to watch the river as it slid past. The sunshine made the water’s surface a mass of glinting white lines and triangles of light. Moving. Animated. Shining gulls over smooth green glass. I stared, mesmerised by the changing surface. Then I got the sudden vivid impression, the absolute …
I saw the birds perched in a tree at the end of the road. Black bird shapes on black branches, settled in silhouette against the cold white winter sky. I count 10. I think there are 10. What is in their minds? I know birds cannot be said to have consciousness of self in the …
We have to give something to the world if we want to get something back. Shine your light. And help others to shine.
We were asked to donate a nearly-new cuddly toy to my boy’s school to raise funds in the Christmas raffle. My son decided to give away one of his precious teddies. The teddies of all shapes and sizes (and species) jumble together in a seemingly random heap, next to his pillow in bed. However, they apparently have a strict ranking and …
As this festive time of year approaches, I am reminded that tis the season to lay off staff (fa la la la … la la la LA!). I know it doesn’t scan as happily as the traditional carol, which is apt for such sad tidings. In the past week alone I’ve heard of two colleagues who are now facing a bleak midwinter; I’m …
Today. Alone. Having time and space to myself at last. Ignoring the washing, the cleaning, the housework. Wasting time carefully, with a range of activities chosen for myself, me, only. Segmenting the day into fizzling an hour away on social networking, an hour on news reading, and hour on novel reading, an hour on showering, …
The Coat of Power is upon me, and yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow on the way to town, I SHALL fear no evil. It’s amazing (and frankly, quite shallow) how much a new coat or a new perfume can lift your spirits when you’re down. Since I bought the New …
I love his face.
His ears reddening, his cheeks reddening, when he sees (knows)
He has done something wrong.
I love his range of facial expressions.
I hate myself for even loving the way his face crumples
in such vividly visual disappointment (in himself, in his toy).
His face speaks a thousand emotions, a thousand words to me.
His thick, thatchy hair (it spikes you to kiss).
His gappy teeth and square ‘little man’ jaw.
His wiry, robust and strong little body.
I want him to get the Stars Of Achievement.
I want him to read The Words.
I want him to reach the rainbow square and show them all.
Show them all.
I want his teachers to like and understand him.
I want other children to love him as I do.
He is so funny.
So, different.
I fear he will choose never to fit in,
and be lost forever.
I hold his warm little hand.
My heart is fierce with protective love; not soppy:
I am fighting my love,
To help him understand the sorrow of having
To ‘Fit in’
To ‘Do as he is told’
To ‘Be like all the others’.
To crush his exuberant madness,
His brainwaves,
His creative force.
To crunch him up,
Tight.
In a box.
Like school and society want.
Controllable, bland, Vanilla Boy.
Owey, Owey Oatflake.
Hide and hold a fragment of your beautiful, crazy, shiny self.
You have no idea how it will comfort you when you are older.
It’s the not taking part that counts.
Suddenly very busy writing for a new client. My own writing hasn’t just had to take a back seat, it’s had to get out and wait at the bus stop.
the crone 