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Showing posts from May, 2010

just because...

left for me by Kim...

I SHALL PAINT MY NAILS RED by Carole Satyamurti
Because a bit of colour is a public service.
Because I am proud of my hands.
Because it will remind me I'm a woman.
Because I will look like a survivor.
Because I can admire them in traffic jams.
Because my daughter will say ugh.
Because my lover will be surprised. (?)
Because it is quicker than dyeing my hair.
Because it is a ten-minute moratorium.
Because it is reversible.

gathering lilacs

In a rush to get to the store  I performed an illegal turn in the middle of the road and noticed the private gated square was offering up  an explosion of lilacs in full purple hued bloom, 
l left the car running, door open  and galloped to the railings  dismissing the heady scent threatening my sinus' and grabbed several random stems  a handful of joy

all images enlarge 

and a few words from Ivor Novello...
We'll gather lilacs in the spring again
And walk together down an English lane
Until our hearts have learned to sing again
When you come home once more

And in the evening by the firelight's glow
You'll hold me close and never let me go
Your eyes will tell me all I need to know
When you come home once more

We'll gather lilacs in the spring again
And walk together down an English lane
Until our hearts have learned to sing again
When you come home once more

And in the evening by the firelight's glow
You'll hold me tight and never let me go
Your eyes wi…

new leaves

l love the colour and shapes  of new leaves  on the trees
just after they have rolled open their newborn light green shimmering thinness
fluttering hesitantly at first in the spring breeze  tentative first steps 
 a constant which fills my window and greets me daily the cycle of life and renewal

Hosted by Cecily and Lolli

He wears it well

a Rodtastic evening...
you wear it well!
Have l told you lately?

hot legs!
the crooner  and who stole the show? contrived or no,  his son 5 year old Alastair brought on a drawing for Daddy into the mike he said 'hello Newcastle' biggest cheer of the night!

Warming the home...

Traditionally housewarmings celebrate the move into a new house which has been plotted and planned for amid much excitement. My recent house move was anything but that on several levels. But on friday evening l had a flat warming which surpassed all expectations!

Persuaded by a girlfriend who endlessly asked me to 'make the effort... go on it'll do you good..'.. until l collapsed under the pressure. l girded my loins, inappropriately perhaps, and I gave out the invitations two weeks ago for a '...tea party from 4pm, followed by something stronger from 8pm...'

I invited friends and work colleagues, old and new; and at 4pm on the dot, whilst l was still applying my eyebrows and lippy, two guests arrived and from then on until early evening over 24 people arrived, some just popped in, other stayed a good few hours, some lingered until after midnight.

The evening was just lovely. Everyone was very kind, supportive and encouraging. Three of my son's infant teachers…


the joys of singledom
having my king size bed to myself
tidying up less, less mess
not having to ask, consider nor compromise
my mind is clearer less fogged
time, lots of time
items of my choosing, my taste
fresh flowers
books more books and then some
a busy coffee table
singing out loud
a cluttered home as opposed to a minimalist
no sshhhh  shushing
a new found interest in girlishness
less clock watching
plates of steamed green veg, buttered & peppered
chocolate in bed
excitement at what could be...
what l want, when I want and where l want...

the sadness of singledom
having my king size bed to myself
feeling selfish
no shared moments of unspoken understanding
shared histories
being more than just myself, extending beyond self
no more family moments,
chocolate in bed
guilt, loss, guilt
long, long nights
no one to rub my back, keep me warm
more time than l know what to do with, for now...
lonely, but not alone...

...the future is a vast land of possibility

Window seat

l sit perched upon my bar chair a steaming cup of tea breathes succour and a book placed aptly for company
a pretty pen and empty paper,
nearby at the ready a staple to exhort rheumy thoughts
the kitchen window is painted shut listed, it waits permission to open and take in the fresh spring air
the washing machine whirls defiantly cracking the peace longer it seems than usual l wait for silence
edging toward the low part of the day, the sun beams through the window promising  so much more

basket case anyone?

okay, yeah, so some of my posts and poetic writings hover on the side of melancholy, and that's ok.
l've only recently separated from my husband, it's not been three months, and l'm not a basket case if you are worrying, so don't, l am fine, in fact l think l'm better than fine. I've been unhappy for sometime, l am able to see this more clearly than before,
when l just believed myself to be mildly depressed, which it turns out l haven't been actually and l am reassured that  unhappiness manifests itself identically,
in fact unhappiness can make one depressed but not depressive,
there is a difference and to me that makes a difference. Perspective.

last year l was wallowing in the loneliness of the impeding empty next syndrome, albeit two years in advance, now with the situation brought to a head by others, my daughter now lives with her father, well someone has to l guess, cos it aint gonna be me, so she has left earlier and my pondering on gloom was was…