I need to live, healthily to the age of 100 at least!
I am very easily bored and very curious… This combination gives me ants in my pants…
What worries me most, apart from the usual health and safety of family, is that I won’t live long enough to see and do all the things I do not yet know exactly what it is that I want to see and do…. I just know i dont want to stand still….
I want to taste food I’ve never heard of… Walk paths I’ve never trodden, see sunsets and sunrises in places I only dream of.
I want to not sit still, or be tamed or claimed and walk freely, unburdened and grateful for the blessing of each new day.
I want to hear the genuine laughter of the people who think themselves poor. Who have nothing but hope and love to give. I want to dance barefoot with them in the sand and let them understand that they are richer than the richest people who measure their wealth by the material things they own and by the size of their bank balance……
My fear for the future is that life passes me by…..
What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?
The most delicious thing I have ever eaten was a variety of tastes from all the members of my family, that was sat around the table, each vying for attention, giving their opinions and each throwing in their two penneth worth and showing me how to eat my humble pie, listen, apologise and learn from my own mistakes….
This is when I knew for sure that they knew they had freedom to express their feelings and views…. Mother is not always right, even if her heart is in the right place….
And there he was, frozen, still, eyes wide, teeth shining, tail erect, holding my gaze, waiting, both of us, for the other to make a move.
Not what I expected to see at the bottom of the garden, my sanctuary, sweet smell of honeysuckle, boxed in with the structured walled hedge. My get away from the noise of the house, the chaos, and now, each of us startled, lost in our thoughts and fears. The wolf cub and me, wondering what next? Is each of us friend or foe?
My gaze softened, I smiled and slowly held out my hand as I bent down, to beckon him and to my surprise, he yielded and together we sat, quiet amongst the honeysuckle, knowing we’d been found.
For national poetry day across the pond in the UK…..
Do you ever notice how we behave in any given situation. How treat, react and respond to people and things. How, at times, we have a sense of entitlement and ownership and will do whatever is necessary to get what we want, no matter how big or small, or who we may trample on. Even the silly things, can turn us into competitive monsters!
authors own…
The shuffling, the whispers, eyes flitting, one way then the other. Hushed voices. Observing each other with the suspicion of a Russian spy, and with such curiosity that it could well lead to what happened to the cat!
Contemplation of their own moves, their own tactics. I can hear the cogs turning in their minds, even my own, guessing which one will succeed. Some look up, heavenward, some look away, trying to be nonchalant, undeterred, unaffected.
They pretend they are not playing the game, but i’ve been watching them closely. It’s easy when you’re on the other side of the fence.
Human behaviour…. Sure don’t we think we are civilised, superior, dignified and righteous? At times we are. Just see how we meet and greet our neighbour, the local shop keeper, the milkman, the priest. Look at the great deeds some do for others. So caring, so selfless, so civilised.
But, put us amongst the different nations, put us in a different country, a hot country. A hot country with a pool! Well, civilisation is at it’s finest….There, early in the morning the queue forms. People waiting anxiously for the man with the key. They are beginning to twitch and sweat under the heat of the sun and the weight of their towels, their many, many, many towels, which they are going to relieve themselves of when they lay claim to THEIR sun loungers, poolside, shade side, sunny side.
Just where the hell is the man with the key to the door, the door to paradise, the key to the sacred sun lounger area beside the pool?
Ahhhh, here he comes, eyeing the growing crowd, he slows his step and looks at them with confusion, fear, horror! They inch even closer to the gate, muttering and mumbling, elbows at the ready to nudge their neighbour out of the way, trample on them if they must, in the stampede that is about to erupt…
But, key man, the keeper of their focus and desire stands there bemused, confused, belwidered, not knowing what to do next. The energy is electric, the tension is palpable but like any brave solder, he ploughs through the malevolent crowd, makes his way to the front, unscathed and watches, in jubilent amazement and wonder at the idiotic, half-witted behaviour of the foreigners……
Splash Pinched nose Eyes squeezed tight Holding breath in An adrenaline rush Push up Resurface Like a dolpin Exhale and let go Of lifes little troubles Bask in the joy And splash Again and again and again….
Sad times can evoke and trigger such good times through memories. I count myself lucky that I have so many happy memories of a life lived and shared with loved ones…..
There’s a first time for everything. Sometimes its very difficult, other times, not so bad. It is inevitable that special occasions, also have a 1st time, with or without….
Soon it will be father’s day and it keeps popping into my mind. It is only 6 days away now and usually by now I would be looking in the shops, looking at the cards, carefully choosing which one to buy.
I don’t like one that is too sloppy, or ones with a picture of golf clubs or racing cars on them. My dad was never into golf or racing cars.
Choosing a card is often very difficult when you are choosing it for someone you love, because you ‘know’ them. Their likes, their dislikes, their little idiosyncratic ways, so getting the right card, must reflect that, right?
Sometimes the right picture has the wrong verse and sometimes the right verse has the wrong picture, but still, I keep looking, if not in that shop then another and another until, I get the one that is ‘just right’. Like goldilocks with the porridge and the bed. It has to feel right.
The gift, was always easy….. Smokes, fags, ciggies, cigarettes; and money inside the card to buy more cigarettes, or scratch cards, where the excitement would be mighty if he only won 2 euro to get yet another scratch card and say ‘ah I might win the big one on that one’ and he would laugh.
The kids would usually give him scratch cards, but I would give him the ‘few bob’ to go buy more ciggies. Sure he’d been smoking most of his life, since he was 5 he said. Picking up his parent’s butts off the hearth and drawing in the toxic smoke, deep into his lungs till he coughed and spluttered and coughed some more. It wasn’t a deterrent, he kept going, till he got himself rightly hooked.
At 29 he collapsed with pneumonia and was taken to hospital. I was about 7 years old then. Gosh, that is 50 years ago! ‘’If you don’t quit smoking, you won’t see 40” the doctor had told him, but what did he know?
Ah, he tried quitting a few times, that I remember. He tried the pipe. The smell was nice, I remember that, it was a bit like smelling food cooking on a bar b q, you want to eat it and the smell of the pipe, would make me want to ‘taste’ it. I thought he looked funny, like Sherlock Holmes, puffing away on it. It didn’t last, gave him headaches he said. Back to the cigarettes it was then.
The doctor was wrong. He did see 40, and 50 and 60, 70, 80…… but at 81, I guess it was his time to go. He died 9 weeks ago, unexpectedly. He had got pneumonia again, like he did last year also and the year before. This time though, it was his heart that gave up on him while he was in hospital. We were expecting him to come home again, after being pumped with antibiotics and steroids for the pneumonia and make another full recovery, but it wasn’t to be. For him I am glad it was quick. He always said he’d like a nice quick ‘belt in the chest’ when it was his time, and so his wish was granted.
As I type this, a photograph of him, smiling at me, I will wish him peace and blessings and tell him, that I miss him, and that I am glad the doctor got it wrong when he was 29.
So this year, there will be no browsing or buying a father’s day card. No cigarettes or money to be given. No scratch cards to excitedly scratch in anticipation of ‘the big one’. So instead of cigarettes, I’ll light a candle for him and watch the smoke as it flickers up to the heavens…….
Relay shun ships 
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