Cheesy Fudge

i

On the top shelf of the fridge sits a neatly wrapped greaseproof parcel, carefully enclosed

with the ends tucked in like a precious gift
or an illegal substance.

Every time I open the door to select the milk
it calls me.

I stare and stare. My internal conversation fighting the urge to eat,
fighting the urge to taste just one bite,
of the perfect little blocks of:

ii

White creamy cheesy
sticky sweet squares
that squishes and squashes
in between my finger tips
before bouncing back
to whole cubes of heaven.

And fail.

iii

I bite
leaving a
perfect mould
of my molars.
Buzzing sweetness
fills my mouth.

Sweetly cheesy
Sweetly lovely
Sweetly fudgy
Sweetly naughty
Creamy cheesy fudge.

Dedicated with thanks to JC
By Dix

I've been away

Hi - it feels like ages since I have written on my blog. I have been on holiday and had a nice time and good break - lots of eating and relaxing. But everything is already back to normal - rushing around with no time to spare. Maybe I should be pleased that I have such a busy life but sometimes I just wish I had more time for me and for my creativity.

Anyway I read the Parkinson autobiography whilst I was away - it was both interesting but still told me lots about Mr P, not just his life but his opinions and faults as well - I like this in an autobiography. Anyway I found this wonderful quote that I wanted to share.

Micheal Parkinson asked the poet Auden '..what was the purpose of a poet and he said, ''As a poet one has a political duty, which is to try, by one's example, to protect the purity of the language. Because when words lose their meaning then I'm quite sure physical violence takes over.''

I think he has a point - don't you?

Mog

Breaking News - I have been published

I am so excited that I have had a poem excepted and published in
First Edition Magazine.

My poem Beginning, Middle, End has been published in First Edition Issue 08, October 2009 and is available in Border, WH Smith and other good newsagents from September 10th.

The magazine website is http://www.firsteditionpublishing.co.uk

I must admit that I have waited until I actually saw it in print before letting everyone know as I was convinced it was going to be a big mistake and my work wouldn't really be in the magazine. But it is and I am so pleased, proud, excited etc. It is great to say I have been published and I feel that this will really help me write more, be brave enough to submit work (and be more confident in my poetry which I now love after struggling initially).

For all of you that regularly read my blog (especially you glnroz) and for those of you that pass a comment, I just want to say a big thankyou - those comments help me as a writer so much and give me the confidence to continue.

Hope you get to read my work and thanks again.

Dih

Genesis fruits

Genesis fruits of juicy
5 edged shiny stars surround
Adam’s pip’d temptation
and earthly colours red and green
reign over on our continual existence.

DiH

This is something I have been playing about with for a while but not sure about it - would love some advice (what do you think?)

Bob's Time

Bob said 'Why am I waiting?'
'Because she is late.'
Bob said - to himself really but in a stage whisper
'I think I'll leave.'

Pause

Bob paces.

Pause

Sighs.

Pause

Bob leaves.

DiH


I love writing these little Bob poems - they just come to me and I often have to write them down quickly. I am going to collect them all together and get my daughter to illustrate them - so sorry they may get posted again with pictures. I hope they say a little something about - well all sorts of aspects of the human condition - if only in humorous form.

Bob will be back!

Some quotes on writing

'Any writer is in the position of the old storyteller in the market place who doesn't know who will stop and listen - his only interest really is in getting as many as possible to stay to the end and put a penny in the hat.'
Phillip Pullman

'As a type, authors are famous for the amount of time we waste. We change light bulbs, stare out of the window and congratulate ourselves if we have managed to turn out 800 words in a day.'
Alain de Botton

'That the stories themselves often feature hazard, hardship, cruelty and death is part of their external appeal. They expose us to danger at safe distance, rehearse us in endurance, fidelity and (eventually) reward.'
Gillian Reynolds, The Daily Telegraph, on a Radio 4 Programme, In Our Time, on why the Brothers Grimm collected folk stories.

'Writing a proper book takes a lot of time. It is a very lonely trade and, given the amount of time that must be spent on discovering the facts as well as communicating them, it is disproportionately badly paid. It is fantastically satisfying, and not unlike (I imagine) giving birth, when you hold the finished work in your hands for the first time.'
Simon Heffer, The Sunday Telegraph


Thanks to Writers' News September 2009 for the above quotes and to my doctors surgery for the 2 hour wait for giving me the time to read the magazine!! And it is only indigestion...........

Bob's Answer

Bob’s said ‘How are you today?’
‘I’m pissed off.’
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m fed up.’
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m miserable.’
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m tired.’
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m annoyed.'
Bob said ‘Oh.’

Pause

Bob’s said ‘How are you today.’
‘I’m fine – how are you?’
Bob said ‘I’m great – thank you’

Bob walked off.

By DiH

Miss J's Day

Miss J wakes up to a bright and cheery morning. She jumps out of bed and jumps to the bathroom, because she can.
Miss J peered into the bathroom mirror and said ‘I look lovely today.’
Miss J chooses her favourite outfit, a bright red jumpsuit with a huge yellow belt that pulls in her narrow waist.
Miss J brushes over her unruly hair quickly and gathers it into a tatty red ruffle by wrapping it around and around. It holds the bulk of her hair like a hairy pineapple.
Miss J leaves the house humming and walks down her street, skipping across the road to the market.
Miss J is the first customer at Mr Borges Fresh Fruit and Veggie stall and begins to select the cleanest and freshest items. She picks up green apples and red apples. She plucks a juicy grape from its bunch and pops it into her mouth. She sucks the tough skin from the sweet interior, her mouth squeezing it all into a pulp before swallowing all the remains.
Miss J says ‘I like fruit’ to nobody. She likes the colours and textures of the market stall– the variety of fruits and vegetables. Sometimes she buys something new and interesting, exotic items that grab her attention. Today she buys three green apples, four small bananas and a bunch of red seedless grapes.
Miss J loves fruit and eats them to keep her healthy and alive. Her visit to the market keeps her alive.
Miss J skips home, catching her foot on the edge of a paving stone. She looks back quickly and says ‘Nobody saw. Nobody thinks I’m stupid.’
Miss J returns home and opens her front door. She has forgotten to lock it.
Miss J looks around her room and says. ‘Nobody’s been here. Nobody’s home’.
Miss J sits at her kitchen table and carefully eats one green apple, peeling the skin into one straggling piece. She cuts it into eight segments and carefully chews each piece before popping in the core, to chew and swallow quickly.
Miss J peels a small banana, biting at it violently until only the end stub remains.
Miss J says. ‘I’ll enjoy a few grapes, before bedtime. They’ll keep the hunger at bay’.

Miss J
‘I look lovely today.’
‘I like fruit’
‘Nobody saw.
Nobody thinks I’m stupid.’
‘Nobody’s been here.
Nobody’s home’.
‘I’ll enjoy a few grapes, before bedtime.
They’ll keep the hunger at bay’.

Yesterday I went to buy a computer

Yesterday I went to buy a computer. This I thought, should be a relatively easy thing to do, even in my small coastal town. My plan, to visit the three or four places where I might chose from a reasonable selection, chose the one I liked the best within my price range, buy and take it home. Easy peasy! In this time of recession, surely these shops would be happy to do business, they would be falling over themselves to sell me a laptop and take my money - take my cash and add another sale to their figures. But no - how silly of me to be optimistic and think that the customer matters - that sales need to be made.

Shop number 1 - Staples - quite a good selection, a few within my price range, not sure about the returns policy if I have any problems but a possibility nevertheless. Problem- the sales assistants are all 12, standing at the counter, chewing large pieces of gum and talking to their mates, also chewing large pieces of gum, about going out and other mates. They did stare at me a couple of times in that 'what are you doing in my shop, trying to get attention, wasting my time, thinking you are going to buy something' kinda way.

I decided I wasn't in the mood for teenage interaction and thought this is OK because it is the first shop and I should do better elsewhere.

Shop number 2 - Bennetts - a smallish selection in my price range but two I was really interested in. Managed to get the shop assistants attention, although he insisted on taking obviously very important pieces of paper out the back first, before he served me but he did come back. A very, very large man, who kinda rumbled around puffing. How dare I make him move around by asking questions? How dare I make him breath?
Anyway chose notebook, nice model had what I wanted within my price bracket. Hurray, purchase and go. But no, no, no. They don't actually have that model in stock, in fact, they don't really have any of the models in stock, been a big rush on computers in the area!, I can order it and it may arrive next week. When I point out that maybe they should not be displaying items they haven't got to sell, I am told in a very 'you stupid woman' sort of way, that if they didn't display models that they didn't stock then there would be nothing on the display - huh! am I the only one who doesn't see the logic in this. I point out that I might as well buy one online than order and wait for a possibility with them and leave pointing out that I will try their major competitor. By this time I am becoming peeved - he doesn't really care though - just goes back behind the counter where he doesn't have to walk or breath.

Shop number 3 - Currys - a nice selection and three I can chose from. I chose the Dell as this was what I intended in the first place. The assistant is helpful, I do vaguely know him, and when he checks availability there are plenty and most of all there is a pink one. I really wanted a pink one, so decided hey, I am going to get the notebook I wanted, in price range. It is located in the stock room, eventually, the chap is on lunch - half past four, but hey he works until 8 - and brought down. No deal to be done but I think it is exactly what I want so go with it. I did notice the seal was open but thought hey, maybe the guy was just checking the colour.
I buy it and take it home, full of smug happiness at getting exactly what I wanted.

But no, no, no.

I turn it on and get this strange Currys screen saver that just goes around and around with a password to exit. No password available and only advice on password is that you need to read the readme.txt on CD. Only problem this machine has no CD drive. Ho, hum. So I mess about a while thinking I can guess password, which of course, I can't. Then I think ring the store, no probs. So I ring the number on the receipt where eventually, after pressing 1 and 2, and 1 and 2 etc, etc, I speak to a nice, a helpful tech guy who tells me that my notebook is actually a used one, has been on display and only the store can remove the Currys screen saver. By this time my blood is starting to boil. But he says, ring again and get put through to the store and they will sort it out. So I ring again, lots of 1 and 2, 1 and 2, etc, etc before I speak to a lady with only a basic grasp of English who tells me I can't speak to my local store - why? - but that the store code with get rid of the screen saver - it doesn't and I have to tell her a few times, it doesn't. OK then I will have to take it back - so I say fair enough - can I speak to the store to arrange to have another put aside - no I can't speak to the store but she will. She goes back and forth and eventually tells me they have no more - even though I saw at least 15 on the computer in stock, and that I can have my money back.

After tea I drive back to the store, get my money back, moan about service, moan about being sold a used notebook, moan about not being able to speak to local store, and then they tell me may take up to 2 days to refund - what!!!! and drive home again. No computer - and possibly no money until after the weekend.

Eat chocolate muffins and drink alcohol.

Red

We stare at each other
In total eye contact
Absorbed in the stare that is
Primitive,
Challenging,
Uncomfortable.

Bodies parallel in drama
Our hands high five frozen
In a single slap
Our bodies stretched out that is
Threatening
Intimidating
Tense.

The music pulsates us
To the next move
Where both hand held tight
Defying the sound
To step away, staring
Eye to eye that is
Defiant
Uneasy
Unnerving.

A slight smile flickers on our mouths
Yet our eyes stay focused,
Stay serious, we work, we move
In time to the rhythm of the music, that is
Primal
Bold
Apprehensive.

We circle, faraway and shoulder to shoulder,
An image of menace,
A form of contact,
Locked in combat
Empowering
Engaging
Brave
Physical Theatre.


By
DiH

I would love some feedback on this piece. What does it say to you? What are you thinking?

Bob's Dead

Bob’s Dead

Bob’s said ‘Mike is dead.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I dunno.’

‘Oh’

‘But Bob’s dead too.’

by DiH

A very hectic week

This week has just flown by. I had my first roadshow with work which was amazing and very busy. I had my first performance, which went ok but I wish it had been better, I wish I had done a little better. I know I must learn from this and work towards being better.

Then I have worked and today I have an important visitor coming and I am scared. This man had the power to change our life, whatever his decision our lives will change. We haven't met him yet and I am worried I will not like him and that he may not like us. I also have this strange feeling that he is not actually going to turn up today. (Let's hope my intuition is wrong this time).

Then I am going away for the weekend to relax in the sun (yes the weather is going to be good!) and read and hopefully write.

Another week passed - another to come.

Oh flipping heck (or words to the effect)

I have just had a frustrating morning. I am trying to get the lawn cut and some more tidying in the garden and it keeps raining. The weather forecast said 'showers' and unfortunately they got it right.

I have been to the hairdresser and now I am not sure I like the cut. It just seems a little middle aged but hey, I am middle aged but I think I wanted something a bit more funky and easy to look after. What my son in law calls my lesbian look.

In between these two I have typed up some invoices for the business, they went ok and typed up the start of a story I am writing. My friend, http://curiouslyspeaking.blogspot.com/ wants me to bring round some writing tonight so that we can discuss it. I had some free time on Thursday and have written the beginning of a short story provisionally called The Look, or Disappeared, or Stare (I am terrible with titles and always hope something jumps out the text whilst writing). Anyway I typed up 350 ish words before going to the hairdresser and then about the same again when I came home. Best part of 700 words is not bad going for me at mo.

Any way I just went back to add some more and found the only the first 350 words had saved. What a pain. I had done some editing whilst typing it up and now all that will be gone as well. This is so frustrating.

I have written about another 100 words but not sure I have the time, or the inclination to type it all up again. Suppose I ought to really.

I really want to finish this story and maybe blog it (not sure if I want to submit it somewhere. If I blog my work does that mean it has been previously published so is not available for submission?)

I have done lots of starting stories but never seems to get much finished so was really determined to try and get this work completed even if in first draft.

Hey ho, guess I better just stop blogging (soon anyway) and try and type the 350 words back in.

Another frustration today is that I was supposed to be attending a free evening of music and art at a local park. It sounded ok. But with the weather being so unpredictable maybe we will just stay in and have tea and Morrison's cream muffins. Yum!

Blogging the Weather

I just realised that when the weather is good I hardly ever find the time to blog. I just spend the whole weekend out in the garden, or I wander out there in the morning and evenings when I would spend time at my computer. I love being outside, soaking up the sun, it makes me feel good. But I hate not keeping up with my blogging. I will have to find a sensible balance, although taking the laptop outside is not one of them.

I notice some of the friends blogs I follow are the same. This is good - enjoy the outside when you can - soak up your Vitamin D (I think that is right) and be grateful for the warmth. Before long we will be huddled up inside in front of the fire living it what feels like a permanent darkness. Well dark before and after work anyway.

I love the nice weather.

The Sniper's Journal

The Sniper's Journal

I watched a program about Afghanistan on TV this week.

It showed families morning their children

trying to make sense of it.

Trying to justify their deaths.

It showed a young man with death in his eyes

telling us he is a sniper,

telling us he has killed 19.

19 dead and written in his notebook

because snipers keep count.

19 dead and written in his notebook

because snipers keep a death journal.

And his father, who took him to a firing

range to learn how to use his pistol

before he went on service.

So he could teach his son to defend

himself at close range.

His father was proud.

His father is a sniper too.

It's their family trade.

And it saved his son's life.

It saved his life the day he pulled his burning

best friend from their bombed vehicle.

Another one to write in his sniper journal.

His sniper journal full of 19 dead,

no names,

no descriptions,

just how he killled them and where.

19 dead in the snipers journal.

By DiH

I know I have blogged this before but have put it wanted to blog it again as have send a copy to Mr R.

What a nice day

At last some sunny weather. I can take the dog for a proper walk and enjoy the sunshine. Is is just the British whose mood is so affected by the weather, I suspect it is the human race as a whole. Probably in really sunny climates the rain makes them happy.

I am off to my cleaning job, not the most exciting but it helps towards little extras in life like holidays and going to concerts etc.

Not much to say really - just glad to be alive.

A chance meeting

Recently I had a chance meeting with a fellow uni student. I hadn't seen him since the day I graduated. We met as I made my way back to the car after work and he was popping into the city. After a mutually warm greeting we chatted like old friends and I still can't believe how brilliant it was to be talking to another ex-grad about life our time at Uni and recent creative projects. I was surprised how animated and excited I became, it was like I had so much to say and so little time to say it in.

It sounds like he is also finding opportunities to use his degree and enjoy the skills he has learnt. He, like other graduates from our course, appears to have had a reasonably stressful first year after graduating before sitting back a little and weighing up the possibilities.

He must have thought I was a bit mad, I was certainly 'rabbiting on' like an excited child. After I got home and thought about our meeting I realised just how much I would love to go back to Uni and do my MA. Even though I am happy in work and feel happy in life I think the lessons I learnt in the three years of my degree could be applied to make an MA an even more successful and far less stressful experience.

Anyway Mr R was always a good poet and one particular poem always stayed with me, in fact, I printed off a copy from the forum and kept it. Now he has posted this poem up on YouTube for you all to hear.

Please follow the link -- it is a worthwhile experience.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRag_8YnOyk

Neno's Award

I'd like to thank http://curiouslyspeaking.blogspot.com/ for nominating me for this award. I am really glad that she and others are reading my blog and hopefully enjoying it or it provokes thoughts and discussions or it just makes them mad. Blogging it about all those things and creativity, communication and love (just ignore the hippy bit).

I am afraid that this award has put me in a bit of quandary - who to nominate. I read Curiouslyspeaking and would have nominated her but she got in first.So please accept my apologises for not passing this on immediately I felt it needed a little thought. So I have decided to nominate the person who first got me into blogging, although in a round about way, and whose blogs I have continued to enjoy for over a year.

Neno’s Rules

1. As a dedication for those who love blogging and love to encourage friendships through blogging.

2. To seek the reasons why we all love blogging.

3. Put the award in one post as soon as you receive it.

4. Don’t forget to mention the person who gives you the award.

5. Answer the awards question by writing the reason why you love blogging.

6. Tag and distribute the award to as many people as you like.

7. Don’t forget to notify the award receivers and put their links in your post.

I love blogging as it makes me be creative. It makes me go to the computer every day and either try and write something, or post up something I have found from another author or read other blogs that amaze, educate or amuse me in so many ways. I find myself addicted to blogging and hope that I will be able to continue this. Blogging has helped me become brave enough to send off my first submission and by posting my writing I feel the courage will grow further.

I'd like to pass this award on to:

http://roses-definitelybeautiful.blogspot.com/

and

http://rhhblackthorn.blogspot.com/

Note: definitely beautiful is her new blog but please read some of the archive material in her original blogspot as it is so good. I still think she has a novel in there. I love these blogs because they illustrate so wonderfully a person going through life with the ups and downs, the loves gained and lost and the trials and rewards of being a parents and employee all wonderfully blogged in an easy to read way. I know she thought about giving up blogging and thank god decided against it and for this I am eternally grateful and in my opinion, her bloggs are what blogging should be all about.

Please read and enjoy.

Trying a new layout with no success

I tried to put a new face on my blog but it all went horribly wrong. Firstly I couldn't display the blogs that I am following and to me this is really important to blogging, not just writing but showing what you are reading.

And then the print was really small, my images disappeared and although it looked nice it was just not right. So I have gone back to my original (if not so original) with a few changes.

Anyway unfortunately it seems to have unformatted some of the poetry and bit - so for this I apologise and will do my best to sort it out. Or ask my friend Curiously if she can.

So now I hope to be blogging instead of trying to sort out how it looks.

Will try again later when I have more time.

... sometimes i pretend to be a writer by Ben Shepard

Today I managed to buy the above book, at last. Ben Shepard was at Uni with me but sadly died suddenly in the second year. He was much missed from the course. This book was launched at Norwich Arts Centre in May but unfortunately I did not find out about the date until too late as was unable to attend. His sister has put together some of his writings and had them published.

I always like Ben, I felt that he was very much an individual and not afraid to voice his opinions. I felt he had lots of interesting things to say and was a good student to work alongside. We were not friends and I only had a couple of conversations with him during the time he was a Uni but I greatly respected him as both a fellow student and as a writer. I also like some of his Visual Art work, especially the Jelly full of fag ends and other assorted items. For me it worked.

Anyway I managed to get his book from Waterstones today and have started reading it and have been hugely impressed. I recognise some of the subjects he has written about from projects we completed as part of the course and yet realised I rarely heard him read them out in class or post them on the notice board.

I thought I would post one here for others to read as I feel his work should reach an audience.

I have become detached

I have become detached
An observer through the lens
Of an microscope
Familiar faces have become
Wriggling bacteria
In a Petri dish
Soon I will begin
My experiment


By Ben Shepard

BR - December by Elizabeth H. Winthrop

This is a Richard & Judy Book Club recommendation.

I chose this book because my boss said she was really enjoying the Richard & Judy books and found them good reads. So I had a look and chose this one. Mainly because the story appealed to me.

It is basically the story of a family, mother, father and eleven year old daughter. The daughter appears to have decided to stop talking. The parents are desperately trying to find reasons for this and solutions.

What I liked about this book was that it is basically written from three points of view: the mother's, the father's and the daughters and this makes the story move along really well. The reader feels the utter frustration of the characters, especially the daughter and mother. The story line moves at a good speed through the novel although I do think the ending is rather expected.

I found myself becoming very frustrated with the daughter character at times, as if she could just snap out of it anytime but with hindsight I guess I was sympathising with the parents. This book definitely illustrates the power of family, the anger and the resentments how easy it is for parents and children to loose control in certain situations.

A fairly easy book to read but well written.

A note about the books I have read

For a long time I used to keep a database of all the books I had read. Unfortunately in one change of computer it corrupted and I haven't really used it since. I missed keeping a list and a note of the books I have read even if the idea is just a bit 'anal'. In my defence it used to be a good way of checking which books I had read by a particular author.

Anyway I have decided to use my blog in the same way. It gives me a record of what I have read and also a little review in case anyone is interested. So from now on anyone reading this blog will be able to read mini reviews and maybe pick up and interesting book or two.

Decision Time

I have made a momentous decision and now I am scared to death. I wish I hadn't told anyone my big decision, but I have told my BF and now feel I can't go back. And in reality I don't want to go back I am just not sure how to go forward.

I have decided to try, no I have decided to finish the novel I started as part of my degree.

I enjoyed working on it, I got really good feedback from one tutor (she gave me a mark in the first bracket) and an OK mark from the other tutor (but in reality he didn't really get me or my writing but then he didn't seem to really get anyone elses writing). I know it is a story that 'has legs' as they say, plenty to work on and that the basic story line is well planned already. In fact, it is almost all planned although not down to chapters but the structure is well placed.

So why am I so scared. I guess it is that fear of failure stuff. Can I really do this and even if I have the self discipline to finish the work, will it be any good. I have visions of a million drafts and lots and lots of rejections. But hey, isn't that a writers life. And maybe if I get the bad one out of the way I can move on to something special.

Anyway now I have told more people - I am going to finish my novel.

So I guess there is no backing out now!

Whatever

So many words to fill the pages
So little time in the day
Don't be afraid to fill up the page.
Just write.

Whatever comes into your mind.
Whatever comes into your brain.
Whatever.

By DiH

I have put this piece on my blog before in a slightly different form but this kinda keeps with the theme of finding time to write, finding time to do what you love, being confident to just put words to paper. Whatever.

Instead

I've got so many things to do
each
rushing
around
my head.

Instead
i'm lazing in my bed
with a scruffy dog
lying on my head.

By DiH

Sorry if you have read this before but I just found this piece in some paperwork and thought it was a bit appropriate to a blog that I read. (Have changed it slightly from original though).

And another thing

When I started thinking about things that really wind me up, another thing popped into my mind. I find it equally as annoying as specific/pacific but probably more commonly used. Although I suspect that this word is not technically correct I just find it the most condescending thing you can say to someone. It is kinda saying 'I hear what you are saying but I really think it is of no consequence and that you are complete child to be patted on the head'.

And what is this word, I hear you ask?

Bless

People say this word and I know it should be a nice thing but it just winds me up, I don't think it really matters how it is said the word itself is just condescending and well, bloody horrible. Yet again something that seems to have become very fashionable. I just want to say 'Up Yours' when people say Bless, even when they are saying it to someone else.

It is just me or does this piss off other people.

Ten Minute Window

Garry wakes glancing at the alarm clock and realises he has time to stretch. He rolls over onto his back and pulls up the Navy Blue stripped duvet until only his head remains uncovered.

Garry stares at the ceiling. He closes his eyes tightly and watches the colours behind his eye lids. They change from blue to yellow; from yellow to green; from green to red which then merges into a rainbow kaleidoscope.

And slowly his mind wanders back to the distance dreams and happy memories of the night. And sleep.

Garry is returned to life by the manufactured sound of his mobile phone intimidating his favourite rock tune; the sound reminding him to move with its insistent five minute snooze function.

Life

It occured to me today, that if life is a race than I am just happy to be running and not sure that winning really matters anymore.

by DiH

A Victor Meldrew Moment!

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am not really one for getting tied up in knots about the 'Queen's English'. I still struggling with knowing what are nouns, pro-nouns, adverbs etc so I basically write instinctively. (Although others may not agree). I have tried teaching myself this grammer stuff, but I struggle to really understand but yet I am still able to write. I think growing up in the 60's and going through modern teaching practices, which really seemed to mean they taught you nothing (especially at in country secondary modern). I am dyslexic (what an awful word to describe someone who struggles with words) although I think it is quite mild by some standards. I struggle with a,e, iou, type words eg Brian becomes Brain and Dairy becomes Diary (not helpful when using a spell checker). But I struggle on. But recently something has really been 'pissing' me off. Everytime I turn on the TV, someone is using this work incorrectly and I find myself screaming at the TV.
What am I talking about?
The use of the word specific.

specific
adjective relating to one thing and not others; particular:

The virus attacks specific cells in the brain.
The money is intended to be used for specific purposes.
FORMAL
The disease seems to be specific to (= only found in) certain types of plant.
Is there anything specific you want from the shops?

NOT

pacific

pacific adjective peaceful or helping to cause peace

or the name for an ocean

The two words are not (in my opinion) interchangeable and should not be used as such.

So the next time some idiot on the TV talks about a pacific item or even pacifically I am going to scream, shout and probably throw something.

I just can't help it.

Selling aprons

My mother used to sell aprons in a local department store. In the 70's most women wore aprons whilst doing the housework so they were big business. What type of apron you wore kinda defined your class and status. My mother sold them all from her neatly folded and carefully placed display on the ground floor near the back entrance.

My mother sold the pink and blue tabards, that had a strip either side that buttoned up with neat white buttons. Many ordinary housewife's wore them - sort of middle/lower middle class women. Not those that still scrubbed the door step.

She sold the full overcoat overalls, in full block colours of pink or white or blue, maybe trimmed with a white strip and neat white buttons. Some of the fancy ones had large silver poppers up the front and were made of a strong cotton. These needed lots of ironing, but were more for the middle/upper class. Although 'nice' women wore their underwear underneath - others answered the door to the milkman commando.

My mother also sold the smaller shield shape aprons, the ones that tied around the waist by long ribbons of matching material. The good ones often had contrasting frills around the main body of the front that fluttered around the outside. These were much cheaper and often plainer, made of polyester or nylon, so easy to care for and even then considered old fashioned, only preferred by more mature ladies.

All aprons were made of cotton, or cotton mix (they had to be ironed but could be boiled and so kept spotlessly clean), or polyester or nylon. The nylon ones were often patterned and more brightly coloured and much easier to dry but not necessarily preferred as they inferred lower status.

My mother tied the stand constantly, folding and re-folding the aprons; she kept the area spotless and incredibly neat. She chatted to her customers because there was always time to talk. She talked to the staff from other departments nearby. It was a friendly area. There was always time for the old ladies who probably didn't need another apron but like to come into the store for their lunch in the cafe and a chat with the staff. They came in on the bus every Wednesday because Wednesday was market day.

My mother also sold tea towels and wash clothes and small hand towels.

DiH

6 Words to describe your life

I went on the One Minute Writer site today http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/ and decided to have a go. The subject is 6 words to describe your life. What a great task although very much brings out the glass half full; glass half empty mentality.

It is great to think about how your feel about life in the simplest way.

Any one out there I would love it if you would write in my comments 6 words to describe your life. Go on I dare you.

Here are my attempts.

• Happy, sad, confident, confused, tired and alive.
• Carpe diem - seize the day - today.
• Awake - rush, drive, work - rush, sleep.
• Alive, watching, listening, smiling, loving, alive.
• Wake to work, home to sleep.
• Wake to friends, home to love.
• My family, my dog, my cats.
• Money - bills, money - work, money - fun?
• Breakfast, elevenses, lunch, high- tea, dinner, supper.
• Fat, chocolate, cheese. Diet, veggies, fruit.
• Dreaming, writing, looking, creating, writing, dreaming.

Got a better one?

DiH

Yes, I thought

‘I don’t do walking in other peoples footsteps’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather struggle in the sand
with each step oozing backwards and down
like an escalator in reverse.

‘I don’t do removing my shoes; they make me small’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather stumble on tip-toe
making tiny heel pin pricks in the floor
like a host of unruly polka dots.

‘I don’t do unnecessary pills; they make me fat’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather go red in the face
and drop to the floor
like a lump of hot lard from a frying slice.

‘I don’t do proper food; it gives me spots’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather lather your face
with frothy make-up, thick as concrete
like a badly plastered wall.

By DiH


The first line of this poem came to my whilst walking the dog on the beach and I think it is still a work in progress. I like the work because (I hope) it says as much about the narrator, the voice of the work, as it does about the person (people) being discussed. I would like to do more with this perhaps add some 'he said' lines as well. I think the last line works well (like a) although I can't remember the proper term for saying something is 'like a' - can someone let me know.

Any readers greatly appreciated.
Any views greatly appreciated.

Di

An Unverving Dream

Last night I had a really clear dream. I am not sure how I got to the point but I was in a church (this is a church that I know) although it was much nicer than in reality, much cleaner and more inviting. The Vicar was there. Again a man that I know, a local Father although not the Father of the Church I dreamed about. The Church in my dream is a mixture of the Church I used to attend (a lovely family church that holds good memories) and my local Church as a teenager, which does not hold good memories. The Church where both my parents had their funerals and are buried.

It was a strange dream. When I got to the Church the Vicar (as I called him) passed me a gift and a letter. The gift was a Kite, all wrapped up and new. I was very brightly coloured, red, yellow and white, still in its wrapping and with the card still stapled on the top. It felt strange to get a Kite in a Church and yet I didn't ask why I was being given a Kite. I have recently purchased a Kite and tried to fly it. (I was trying to fly it with a young man who will hopefully become part of my life as we are trying to Foster him), but don't know if this has meaning in the dream, I guess it does.

I never unwrapped the Kite in the Church just put in down beside me. But the letter felt more significant. It was a blue handwritten envelope, neat handwriting, large and clear. I opened the letter and read it.

I remember reading the letter, I remember the look of the words on the page but can't remember what it said, just that I felt very emotional, really happy but also very sad. The Vicar just touched my arm to give me comfort. At this point I looked up.

And there sitting in the Church a few feet away from me sat my Nanny Lou. My maternal grandmother. I have not seen her for 41 years, she died when I was seven and yet she was so clear and she was smiling at me. I could recognise every part of her face, her eyes, her hair, her skin, the shape of her body. It was so real and so beautiful. And it felt lovely and warm and comforting. Like she was there and loving me and holding me. Although I never got close to her. I can't really explain how it felt. Just that it seemed so really, so lovely, so comforting. And I looked straight at her with this letter in my hand and it was wonderful.

At this point I woke up (5.15am) and for a moment I felt happy and loved and comforted and in a wonderful place. I wanted to return to the dream and be back with my Nanny but I couldn't.

And as I lay in bed I suddenly began to feel strange. To feel drained and unhappy, as if the dream, far from being good was a pointer to something terrible that is going to happen. I can't explain why I feel like this. It was so odd to go from almost euphoria to utter misery in such a short space of time.

All day I have felt incredibly tired and drained (I have woken up to write this). I have lacked energy and sharpness and just felt like I am being told that something in the future (the near future) is not good. I have dreaded the day. I felt like I was looking for signals to tell me what was coming. I was often aware of the dream and the memory during the day. I found myself smiling at the memory of my Nanny and then shivering at the feeling that followed. A terrible contradiction. I know this is really OTT but it feels like I should be grateful to wake up tomorrow. That is how strong the feeling is. My body had ached today, I struggled to have any clarity of thought and absolutely no enthusiasm. I just want to go back to bed to sleep and yet am almost fearful to do so.

I like to dream. It has often helped me sort out problems and definitely helped me find ideas for my writing. But this was not nice. I very rarely have nightmares and even they have not left me with the feeling that I have carried today. This was not a nightmare, it was beautiful and yet it has left me feeling devastated. Even writing this is giving me butterflies inside.

I hope tonight will be better. I hope that I can sleep as normal.

Finding other blogs

I like writing my blog but it has occurred to me that I seem to stop and start because I am not sure anyone is reading my words. I know it does not really matter because it is just good to be writing; it is good to be creative but... I have friends who read my stuff and that is good but I would love to expand what I am reading and perhaps find some new readers. So I am beginning to explore. Tonight I have found a writer in Scotland, she sounds interesting and her stuff looks good. Also she has some excellent links to writing sites. So - here goes - expanding my horizons online (so to speak).

Confidence

These are some words that I have been working on for a while. Trying to understand the difference it makes in attributing emotions to first person (me/I) or male and female subjects. I am not sure how this works but liked trying the differences.

Me Confidence

What is it about me that does not believe in me?
And my abilities to achieve.
Why?
Do I focus on the failures
and forget all the times
I have met my dreams
face to face
by welcoming them
forward to my desired ends.
And felt the enormous highs of self
confidence and power.

Her Confidence

What is it about her that does not believe in her?
And her abilities to achieve.
Why?
Does she focus on the failures
and forget all the times
she has met her dreams
face to face
by welcoming them
forward to their desired ends.
And felt the enormous highs of self
confidence and power.

His Confidence

What is it about him that does not believe in him?
And his abilities to achieve.
Why?
Does he focus on the failures
and forget all the times
He has met his dreams
face to face
by welcoming them
forward to his desired ends.
And felt the enormous highs of self
confidence and power.

DiH

The Steet (Dead Man Walking)

The man was walking down the street. He wasn’t going anywhere in particular. He wasn’t returning from an exciting rendezvous. He was just filling his day in a meaning less sort of way.

The man didn’t walk slowly but he didn’t walk fast. He kinda meandered along, his steps evenly spaced. Sometimes his feet straddled the pavement cracks, sometimes firmly striding up from their centres.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t look down. He didn’t look left. He didn’t look right. He just stared straight ahead.

But seeing.

He manoeuvred around the obstacles of the street.

He manoeuvred around lamp posts; Council rubbish bins; empty Tesco carrier bags; discarded KFC boxes; cyclists; dog poo and people.

He manoeuvred around men and women and dogs and cats.

He manoeuvred past children walking, running, cycling, on skate boards and screaming.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t acknowledge them.

He just kept his regular strides past them down the street.

He strode on.

The man was called Brian.



DiH

The Cat

A friend is blogging some of her older work - which I love by the way - so I thought I would blog a piece I found from 2003. This will make you understand why I don't write serious poetry.

The Cat was Black and White

The cat was black and white

Large and round

He walked the wall

Twice a day

To get his breakfast and dinner

I haven't seen him today.

He must be away

or just not hungry.

DiH

I am so glad I only write poetry for fun!

Chocolate (2)

A little Smartie could kill a song bird
even the special blue ones
before and after
the dangerous colourings were removed.

Twenty two pounds of chocolate;
a lethal dose for a human.

Twenty two large purple-blue bars
wrapped up in foil
with suckable chunks
cold from the fridge
begging to be chomped down on hard
and hurting your mouth
in anxious desire
which melts exquisitely
into the roof of the mouth
to extinguish the pain.

The block stands proud
but wounded
and melts around your fingers
into a sticky scrumptious coating
that longs to be licked off individual
fingers by the tongue flicking
quickly around and between.
A provision of salty chocolate
with each gorgeous stroke.

Chocolate

This is another poem (hic) that I started on sometime ago - not sure what to do with but hey will blog it anyway.

A little Smartie could kill a song bird

even the special blue one before

and after they had the dangerous

colourings removed.

Twenty two pounds of chocolate

would be a lethal dose for a human

Twenty two large purple-blue bars

wrapped up in foil

with suckable chunks

cold from the fridge

to chomp down on hard

that melts exquisitely

into the roof of the mouth.

DiH

Fat People Like Cake

Fat people like cake
creamy and baked
glazed hard with sugar
that crunches when bitten
and sticks around the lips
to be licked and sucked
long after the cake has gone.

But some
fat people don't like cake
They like hot sausage rolls
that melt in the mouth
or fried eggs and bacon fat
mopped up with bread.

DiH

A first draft but not sure where it is going - if anywhere

Today

Today was a good day. Work went well, I felt sharp and useful and then I met my friend and we had naughty cakes and talked about Uni and art and writing and things that we love to do. We talked about being writers and being published (even in small ways) and ideas; about people from our past. It was good. And I felt like I could say things that I wanted and I felt funny and alive and loved and happy. Why isn't every day like this?

My friend (who will probably read this) told me about her brother turning up very drunk and spending the night. And even though I know it is wrong and really annoying I just can't stop thinking about brothers turning up drunk and spending the night on settees and deciding to take their clothes off. I mean who would really want to see their brother naked! Dreadful but also funny - something to tell their children in years to come. And their children will say 'not you Dad, your too boring for that'. And brothers and sisters will say 'I can't believe when you used to do that, when you used to piss me off!' Its funny and sad, and lovely and families and history.

And I so wish my brother would come around, even really drunk and want to stay on the settee and see my home as somewhere he could be safe; somewhere he could come and just be.

But not take his clothes off though - that would be Yuk. That is too much.

A Dog's Tail

Something strange happened today. Something I had never witnessed before. My dog chased its tail. Just for a few seconds she turned her head and noticed a her fluffy white curly tail standing aloft and began to chase it in circular motion. Each turn increasing in speed and with her head becoming a little closer to her tail. I have seen other dogs chase their tales but never her. She is three already and so I thought she would probably never chase her tail.

What made her do it today or had I just never noticed her chasing her tail, or maybe just never been around to witness it before. (The old if a tree falls in the wood with no one to witness it does it still make a sound question.) I suspect this was the first occurrence as she seems surprised at seeing her tail and shocked at her inability to catch it. In her defence the running circle only lasted a second or two before she cottoned on to the fact that it was her tail and it was un-catchable.

Are we humans so quick to realise how futile chasing our tails has become?

The Reflective Snake

I took a canoe out on the River Waveney and took a photograph of the arm of wood that came out of the water like a snake. Its reflection, on a bright sunny day made it even more snake like. The flattened head hovered over the water poised to bite or sting anyone floating past. I wanted to get close enough to touch it but was too afraid in case it pounced at me. I thought the wood would soften and stretch out, momentarily alive and venomous before returning to its hardened state. Two snakes one solid and set, the other trembling in water lapping under its reflective partner.

Which would do the most harm?

Maybe the water snake would drag me down into its lair before sucking out my last breath and easing my lifeless mould back into the air - a trophy to its staring brother.

DiH

Lost and Found

Two dustbins found on the beach displaying the number 6 or 16.

Each with a white coded council sticker (number not registered because basically who cares how the council code a dustbin).

Presently sitting near the rocks but previously situated on the sea edge being manhandled by two scroats who were intelligently trying to float off to sea in them - Unsuccessfully (unfortunately).

I asked the dustbin men if anyone had lost their bins but they hadn't a clue.

Please see The Beach if you require your dustbins back.

Memory

Why can I remember the words of a song
with perfect recall from thirty years ago.

(apart from mis-heard lyrics
that fit so easily into the real
rhythms of the music
better than the originals)

The joy of singing loud and flat,
screaming out the high notes
in tuneless abandon.

Yet I can’t remember what I did yesterday.

Been a long time gone

I have not written on my blog for such a long time but have thought of it often. So finally remembered my login details and decided to get back into it.

News

I am suffering with one of those grotty virus type colds at the mo. Sore throat, blocked nose, tired eyes, hacking cough and it has drained all my energy. It has really drained my energy and is making me feel just YUK, YUK, YUK!!! I just want to sleep all the time which is really rubbish and haven't managed to get any of the jobs done which I wanted to this weekend. Having no energy is a real drag - mind you I have watched lots of old stuff I recorded on the DVD recorder and enjoyed most of it, especially The Genius of Photography. And have managed to clear down the memory somewhat so I can record some new stuff.

I will finish with a poem by (yes you guessed it) my favourite SpikeY!

NEW MEMBERS WELCOME

Pull the blinds
on you emotions
Switch off our face.
Put your love into neutral
This way to the human race.

London
April 1971

Sometimes I think it would be nice to do this. Just switch of my emotions, close down my reactions and sail along without hassle or pain.

DiH

Just one last note - I am going to church tonight. It is my second time - I found it comforting last time but not sure why? Tell you more later - maybe?