Stan was wearing his best suit topped by a denim apron polishing the big windows with a microfibre cloth as he waited breathlessly for his stunning wife.Mary entered the room wearing a long purple and mauve dress which clung somewhat tightly to the curvaceous contours of her beautifully rounded body.On her feet she had some smart pewter ballet slippers and in her elegant hand she carried a huge pewter clutch bag which contained some of her many medications.She addressed Stan,
“I think I can leave my handbag behind if I put my mouth spray into my bra.”
“That somehow detracts from the romance of the evening.” Stan pronounced openly.
“Well,you know,I never had a cleavage until lately and I fell I ought to make the most of it.”
“Surely I should be the one make the most of it,” he riposted jocosely.
“Of course you may.my angel,but not in the restaurant,”she answered back sweetly
“I’ll put your spray in my pocket then,shall I?”
Suddenly the doorbell rang.”Who’s this?”It was Annie,their next door neighbour. she was wearing a coral velvet track suit with matching Reeboks and sun hat .
“Hi,I just came in with a little prezzie,”she declaimed.In her hand was a huge box of chocolates..”Gosh,Mary you look lovely in that beautiful long dress but you’re not going on your bike,are you?”
“No,we are having a cab,but it’s not come as yet.”
“Well,never mind.I’ll ring 999 and get them to send an emergency ambulance for you!”
Fortunately,as luck would have it the minicab appeared from the sky and it was only as they were entering the restaurant that Stan realised he was still wearing his old denim apron.
“Shall I take it off?” he pondered.
On the pro side I will look smarter on the con side I might spill some soup down my front.I wish I’d done more logic at college.So he kept it on.Mary didn’t seem to notice.She just took him for granted.If he stood on his head and sang”Jerusalem” she probably wouldn’t pay any attention.
Then he noticed that Mary was wearing an apron too.It was the same colour as her dress.What a brilliant idea,he thought.
“There may be money in this.” He could start a small business,”Aprons R You” selling lovely aprons in all colours of the rainbow.
Suddenly he heard noises;he awoke and heard Mary shouting “How can you go to sleep when you are out with me?”
“Would you prefer me to recite the Periodic Table?” he snapped gently.
“I’d prefer a poem,” she cried..
.All right,Petal,I’ll think of one soon.In the meantime would you like a fool?” “No.I’ ve got you,” she responded handsomely.”I mean for a pudding?” “Oh,yes please.A Rubik fool would be lovely.It will pass the time.You know I get so bored.”
“Well,I do my best but it’s hard keeping up with you.would you like to read a few truth tables whilst I finish my meat.”
He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small leather bound book.
“Truth tables and levitation for geniuses,” by Bertha Russell.
“Oh,Stan,this looks interesting.I’ve always wanted to fly like an angel or an owl.”
“It’s never too late to say never.” he responded.”Whatever do you mean?”
“I don’t know.Just because a sentence is grammatically correct doesn’t imply that it means something.”
“Yes,quite right.And conversely a sentence can mean something even when it’s not grammatically correct.”
“Isn’t thinking exciting!”
“Yes,indeed.I was thinking how exciting it will be to go to bed with you.”
“Wow,good grammar and full of meaning.I am yours.I am like a ripe plum ready to drop off the tree.I am a cat ready to mate.I am a song waiting to be sung.”
“Gosh,are metaphors your bete noir?”
“Je ne parle pas Francais.”
“Aimez vous ein Nederlander?”
“Sprechen sie Deutsche?”
Ist sein mutter immer krank?
What a naughty author.
Their eyes drew me,
And their eyes draw me again
Into a pool of winter light
Golden from the low sun.
I swim in it
Like a hawk flows on the wind
Over the depths,
Of life.
Contained by a white china cup,
I’m your reflection now
Drowning in the slanting sunlight
Like a stone in a lake.
Falling deeper until I find
the creative mud
with which I mingle
no longer a stone
but a soft flowing stream of sensations
which meets with joy
the earth’s depths and presence.
And something new will grow.
She walks in a deserted landscape of monotone colours.
Big with child,she crosses this rough terrain alone,
without a Joseph to protect or a donkey to carry her.
no inn nor stable is here.No cattle nor sheep
nothing alive.
Now she feels her labour pains coming;
Lies down amongst the rocks to wait
Here is an anonymous,faceless figure.
Pronounces himself a doctor.
She labours; he picks up her son.No Messiah nor Oedipus;
Without speaking,he conveys to her,this child has died.
Not ever held in the arms of hie mother
Nor father either.
He’s tossed, light as a few feathers,
light as a bird
onto a pile of bodies nearby.
Whose unwanted children are these?
Stil lying flat and weary with grief,
she observes her child-
one of many there.
Days pass and strength returns.
Stands now and walks over to say,Farewell.
The child opens his eyes;
Mother,they say,shining.
Holds him and presses him into herself for warmth…
Which way to go and when?
No signs, no maps…
Is there a right way?
Is there a guide?
Why was she journeying this way?
She remembers nothing
She has lost almost everything .
Steps forward..and walks on.
What other choice is there?
Rain stopped prayer today.
It never drains when it pours.
I never complain till my heart roars.
He pestered me,flustered me,beseeched me,admired me ,then threw me off like a used old coat.
What a liar..but to do him justice he’s very trying and none can compare in sighing with self pity.. sometimes witty,
Floods washed my heart away and I feel lost.
There’s many a true word spoken as a test.
Endurance is the only way to get rhymes
A few words are best not spoken out loud.
Better to touch than to strike a hard blow.
“Tis better to have lived with cost,than never to have lived at all.
Better to have trusted and lost than to have manipulated to a self serving end
I love you only once a day.
I love you when I see you pray
Wisdom is the king of humour.
Spite is the malady that kills.
He shall tear his frock…. stop stealing my clothes and tear your own
Was Jerusalem built here,in England’s mares and evil spheres?
We here believe Jesus was white and an Englishman,
I wish you a merry Litmus.
He needs his head resting,doctor
I was tried many times and pleaded for sanity.
Old men are more malicious as their nerves are torn.
If,homeless kindly sleep in Church.Thank me,too.
If depressed kindly weep in Church.
If shy,please don’t mention it.
If worried you may gnaw your embroidered kneeler.
If paranoid,we are looking at you sideways.
If fasting,kindly faint quietly.
If abstaining,please weep softly.
If dead please report to the Vicar.
If wicked ,please play away tonight.
Tread lightly for I have shared all my dreams and you have used me badly.
Don’t stop till the gnats have all stung.
The vicar went out with a wrangler from Cambridge.
If you need legal advice you are in the wrong place.
Fish and whips available in the bookstore.
Handcuffs are going up as Marks And Spencer go down…
If completely expired, keep mum.
If past your use by date don’t rot till after the service then kindly place your body in the compost heap and you can call your soul your own for a while.
Men often have an idea of themselves totally remote from the truth.
And women keep quiet out of pity.
Whip up a mouse for the dessert?
If weighed down by sins kindly recycle them in the church Bin
“The third confrontation between exigent utopia and the common pulse of Western life occurs with the rise of messianic socialism. Even where it proclaims itself to be atheist, the socialism of Marx, of Trotsky, of Ernst Bloch, is directly rooted in messianic eschatology. Nothing is more religious, nothing is closer to the ecstatic rage for justice in the prophets, than the socialist vision of the destruction of the bourgeois Gomorrah and the creation of a new, clean city for man. In their very language Marx’s 1844 manuscripts are steeped in the tradition of messianic promise. In an astounding passage Marx seems to paraphrase the vision of Isaiah and of primitive Christianity: “Assume man to be man and his relationship to the world to be a human one: then you can exchange love only for love, trust for trust.” When human exploitation is eradicated, the grime shall be scoured from the tired earth, and the world made a garden once more. This is the socialist dream and millenary bargain. For it generations have died. In its name falsehood and oppression have spread over a good deal of the earth. But the dream remains magnetic. It cries out to man to renounce profit and selfishness, to melt his personal being into that of the community. It demands that he break down the blackened walls of history, that he leap out of the shadow of his petty needs. Those who resist the dream are not only madmen and enemies of society; they betray the part of light in their own humanity. The god of utopia is a jealous god.”
“We cannot think clearly about the crises of Western culture, about the origins and forms of totalitarian movements in the European heartland and the recurrence of world war, without bearing sharply in mind that Europe, after 1918, was damaged in its centers of life. Decisive reserves of intelligence, of nervous resilience, of political talent, had been annihilated. The satiric conceit, in Brecht and Georges Grosz, of children murdered because never to be born has its specific genetic meaning. An aggregate of mental and physical potentiality, of new hybrids and variants, too manifold for us to measure, was lost to the preservation and further evolution of Western man and of his institutions. Already in a biological sense we are looking now at a diminished or “post-culture.”
“We are not, I believe, dealing with some monstrous accident in modern social history. The holocaust was not the result of merely individual pathology or of the neuroses of one nation-state. Indeed, competent observers expected the cancer to spread first, and most virulently, in France. We are not-and this is often misunderstood-considering something truly analogous to other cases of massacre, to the murder of the Gypsies or, earlier, of the Armenians. There are parallels in technique and in the idiom of hatred. But not ontologically, not at the level of philosophic intent. That intent takes us to the heart of certain instabilities in the fabric of Western culture, in the relations between instinctual and religious life. Hitler’s jibe that “conscience is a Jewish invention may give a clue
English: A picture taken on June 27, 2008 in Prague, Czech Republic of the former house of Franz Kafka. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)Real Presences: Is There Anything in What We Say? (Photo credit: Sol S.)
We were dancing to a tune,a tune I’d heard before.
We were spinning close together across the polished floor
But as I moved towards you,you moved the other way
And I knew then,you were hearing differerent music play.
I made my mistakes,yet I thought you understood
Realisation comes down on me in a dreadful flood.
You’re just a stranger who seemed to know the dance
And I thought you loved me, but that was merely chance.
I’m so foolish, so foolish I give my heart away
I make my errors then,of course,I have to pay.
Why don’t I learn more ? Why do I repeat
The dance I am dancing, which leads me to defeat?
Oh,I’ll still keep on dancing for dancing is my life;
And like Andersen’s mermaid I walk always on knives.
So foolish, so foolish my artless loving heart
I dance though I know this dance will tear my soul apart
Was this the apple,then,your mother’s breast
Which father thought was his to oft caress? And when ,in deprived rage,you bit to test. In anger he would ever you harass.
So then you learned that you could hate as well,
For punishment struck hard in your small heart.
Your memory was wordless ,could not tell;
Though pain and anguish made your soft skin smart.
As unknown as the journey to your birth
As shocking as the grief of unmeant wrong..
As frightening as the gauging of your worth
As sudden as the ending of a song.
Impossible to foretell or to prepare,
The ambivalence of the heart starts here.
And here are Pandora’s socks,Professor Smith,quipped,as the female student in the front row fell asleep whilst sitting upright in a large armchair.
And I also have Achilles’ heel here.His name is on it
Now for your project,I want you all to say Three Hail Mary’s.
A large bee stung my ass and I awoke and coughed up my soul onto the bed.
Get back inside,I cried.Keep my whole,give me oil,keep me churning.
Alright,it muttered calmly.Don’t lose your head.
I have it well screwed on,I responded.
This is a surprise to see you.
Well,since Pandora lost her socks all the souls have been getting loose from their bodies.Women…why do they lose their socks so much?
After that,the doctor called.
Hi, he screamed.
For God’s sake,don’t do that,I shouted
I’m not dead you know..even though my blood pressure is zero.He smiled and handed me a blood sugar monitor.
Here you are,this will cure your pneumonia.
What about my new mania?
What is that?
I am interested in spirals…
Keep it under control.
The whole point of mania is to be out of control
Try for a sort of controlled uncontrol,then.my dear,he murmured.
What a clever idea,I told him.Goodbye
I swallowed the test kit and it cured the pneumonia immediately.Yet I had to have surgery to extract it.So the cure was no better than being hung by bees.
Honey,you are my honey,honey…how I need you so.Never let me go.
Stan sat down in front of his computer and looked at his email.
There was one from Annie.
Joy!
“Hi Stan
I didn’t really want to keep some of those remarks you wrote at the bottom of our document when we were both online,so I have deleted them. We should have gone into chat mode.They were not related to the topic we were discussing so I know you won’t be mind.And if you ask again we can chat either online or in person about sex and people’s lives
With my love,dearest one ,Annie
Stan felt furiously angry and cross. How could she know if he minded or not?
He went dark red as if his head was bursting.What was so dreadfully bad about his remarks?He had only asked Annie if her dead husband George might have been bisexual.Stan had once seen him kissing another man in the bushes in the park.Annie didn’t seem bothered last night.She never gave the impression to me she didn’t like it.Maybe she’s not quick enough to react
Anyway she should not have deleted it completely without asking me first.
He sat down on his old Habitat chair [recently mended free on the NHS by Dave the paramedic,] and he sent her an email saying he was furious with her for attacking his freedom of speech.It was unethical.It was too powerful .He must assert himself.He would show her!
So he was not going to work with her on any more documents ever again nor chat on IM or Google Chat. Of course he still loved her but his anger was too strong for him to ignore.
When Annie got the email she was completely stunned like a cow in the abbatoir ready to be eloctrocuted.She apologized to Stan immediately but he refused to accept it ever even though she begged piteously for forgiveness.
Why did he want to know if George was bisexual, she wondered.Was he saying it to try to turn himself on or me?Or is he just interested in all kinds of sex and human behavior generally ,like most people are ?But it was not concerned with the document which was about ill treatment of prisoners in Indiaunder the British Empire and relating it to other acts of outrage by the British Government elsewhere.
I wanted to talk about us,not poor dead George.Whatever George’s sex life,he’s dead now.So l we should eave him in peace.
Meantime.Stan was thinking about how women were always interfering in his life,correcting him and improving his grammar.Making him cups of tea when he wanted brand and some HP sauce with his lamb chops not salad
He liked talking about bisexuality.It made him feel a sense of wonder at the differing habits and desires of humans.Why couldn’t she just go along with it or at least say something then rather than deleting his words secretly when he was off-line?Though maybe mentioning George was insensitive even though George was dead.
He was a man .He was not going to let a woman ride over him like a steam roller. Annie must learn her place in the scheme of things.
Where is that,asked his beautiful cat Emile.
I’m not sure but it’s not above me.It’s either the same or lower.
Can’t you forgive her.She may be in another dimension,another space altogether,another universe of discourse?[He’d been reading Wittgenstein again]
Certainly not .No way.Stan answered,
But you love her,you said many times in here.I heard you
All the more reason to maintain some boundaries. Love is not the be all and end all of life for a man!
Next she’ll be cutting bits off me with her dressmaking shears,he cried in outrage and horror!
She’ll castrate me.She’ll turn me into a woman.
She won’t,she’s just a daft postmenopausal woman,said Emile.She wouldn’t ever harm you.she’s very gentle.you know that,don’t you?
She has invaded me,she has crossed my boundary.
Some people would be glad,mewed the cat.He was always hoping a lady cat would come by. and cross his boundaries or more correctly.he would be allowed cross hers.
Meanwhile Annie was sitting sobbing feverishly in her bedroom.She really enjoyed co-writing documents and news sheets with Stan.Now he won’t do it anymore,she whispered . He was really mad with her.He must be feeling upset and aggravated beyond all human endurance.She had assumed too much and now she was paying the price as she lay on her purple duvet cover with two boxes of Kleenex for men.Even finding the Kleenex required for all her sobbing was too much for her.
She cried and sobbed loudly for a while.Her eyes were bright red and bloodshot. She was so very sad she had unwittingly distressed dear Stan.Life is so tough she thought reluctantly.I wish I were somewhere else……maybe in Heaven with George and his bisexual lovers too, all playing harps or mouth organs and whatever else the could find up there.
Still,there were those new neighbours who had just moved in across the road.Two brothers,both very handsome.I wonder if they like writing on the computer,she thought.That cheered her up a bit,though she was very fond of Stan.In fact she loved him greatly and had kissed him gently yet thoroughly many times though she had never actually gone to bed with him ;never known him in the biblical sense.Was that the problem?Too late now either way,she muttered quietly to her goldfish Wayne who agreed with her analysis of the situation.
So in her mind she was moving from loving and adoring Stan to being loving towards yet puzzled by him.Was he afraid of being dominated by a woman?What would he be like as a lover?
But why try to talk about bisexuality?Could he not have thought of something else?Like female orgasms or kissing better?
There was a new book by Betty Dodson teaching frozen women how to have orgasms.Would he have enjoyed discussing female anatomy and pleasuring her naked female body and all the rest,[she always liked kisses on her throat,he knew that.]
Well,she would never know now.That was certain.Thank God I’ve found out what he’s like before things went any further.He might be a little too dominating.Though a certain amount is necessary for the consummation of love.She was so upset her thoughts began to turn towards women.
Would it be better all round to love a woman instead?Especially as I could show her how to have an orgasm having being studying this book for some weeks?Though she may already know,I guess.Still,a change is as good as a rest, so the proverb says.
How do I find a woman who’s into other woman, as it were, she thought.Can I find one on the internet?Will there be a club we can go to? How exciting!
So Annie grew more optimistic.A woman wouldn’t mind a few words deleted from a chat either.So a feeling of mild joy came over her and her sobbing died down.
Stan was sitting in his kitchen feeling superior and dominant.Except Annie had not come for coffee so it was hard being dominant all by himself.He began to feel depressed and morose.Should he change his mind?Would he lose his window of opportunity?
Why is life so trying.Why are women so manipulative, why do they all turn out fakes and bitches,he asked Emile.Why won’t they love me as I am?
It’s partly one’s own character,Emile replied.
Hearing this Stan lost his temper and threw the kettle of boiling water at Emile.Luckily it missed but Emile stalked out and went off to the shed leaving Stan more alone than ever.
How hard life is Stan shouted. I feel like topping myself. I”ll jump off the roof. of the civic centrer.I’m going to ring the fucking Samaritans.
Just then his wife Mary walked in.What’s up Stan?
Nothing dear.I just dropped a brick on my toe
Why have you got a brick in here,in the lounge?
I was playing with it.
With a brick?
Well,it has a certain cold masculinity,he replied
Cold masculinity?. Shall I make some drinks?
Yes,please,dear
Oh,look there’s Annie walking past arm in arm with a woman.
I knew George was bisexual but now I see she is also or maybe she’s turned quite gay!Were they both gay?Is that why she only kissed him and never went any further?
Well,it’s not our business,said Mary quietly.
Aha,thought Stan.That’s what you think.If only you could see inside my mind!Inside his mind though ,he was wondering if Annie would ever see him again.But I will not forgive her,I won’t.I won’t!
What he might have said more truthfully was “Can’t”
For indeed,it is hard to forgive people for trampling into one’s sacred space even if it is an accident or mis-judgement not a deliberate attempt to dominate.but …….
Life is sweet and yet very hard too.
cease or become unable to follow (the right route).
“the clouds came down and we lost the path”
synonyms:
stray from, wander from, depart from, go astray from, fail to keep to, fail to keep in sight; More
evade or shake off (a pursuer).
“he came after me waving his revolver, but I easily lost him”
synonyms:
escape from, evade, elude, dodge, avoid, give someone the slip,shake off, throw off, throw off the scent, duck, get rid of; More
NORTH AMERICANinformal
get rid of (an undesirable person or thing).
“lose that creep!”
informal
cause (someone) to be unable to follow an argument or explanation.
“sorry, Tim, you’ve lost me there”
be or become deeply absorbed in (something).
“he had been lost in thought”
3.
fail to win (a game or contest).
“England lost the first Test match”
synonyms:
be defeated, be beaten, suffer defeat, be the loser, be conquered, be vanquished, be trounced, be worsted, be bested by, get/have the worst, come off second-best, lose out, fail, come to grief, meet one’s Waterloo; More
cause (someone) to fail to win (a game or contest).
“that shot lost him the championship”
synonyms:
be defeated by, be beaten by, be conquered by, be vanquished by,be trounced by, be worsted by, be bested by, be beaten into second place by
“Celtic have lost out to rivals Rangers”
4.
earn less (money) than one is spending or has spent.
“the paper is losing £1.5 million a month”
5.
waste or fail to take advantage of (time or an opportunity).
(of an aim or endeavour) unlikely to succeed or be fulfilled.
“a forlorn attempt to escape”
synonyms:
hopeless, with no chance of success, beyond hope; More
Origin
Old English forloren ‘depraved, morally abandoned’, past participle of forlēosan ‘lose’, of Germanic origin; related to Dutch verliezen and German verlieren, and ultimately tofor- and lose. Sense 1 dates from the 16th century.
Stan was feeling sad because the clocks had turned back so it was dark at 4pm.His wife Mary was out on her old Raleigh with battery lit lights front and rear….though not quite on her ass.Stan is very vulgar sometimes as it cheers him up.When Mary gets home he did say to her once,You need a light on your ass .Mary,like the Queen,was not amused.
Emile Stan’s cat suggested they go for a walk before sunset and so off they went.Stan wore an old green overcoat and a flat cap.Emile was running ahead as he was so excited.Some times he sat on the sturdy old man’s shoulder on a cat pad.[On sale everywhere for two pounds ten and sixpence.]Stan felt his spirits rise as he walked as the sky was so beautiful striped in blue and peach just like it had been in the Holy Land when he went on a Pilgrimage with other old Catholics from Knittingham Cathedral
How lovely it would be to walk in the wood and feel crunchy leaves under his boots.[From Hotters of Whelmersdale,Lancs] And Emile liked to bury himself in the leaves and leap put as Stan went by.But as they approached the wood a strange sight met their eyes,,, all four!
The trees were full but not with birds.They were full of cats.Big cats,fat cats,thin cats,pedigree cats,mixed race cats,cats of all colors and sizes.You can imagine the effect of having a hundred or more cats’ eyes staring yellowly at you in synchronized glares.Why,it was almost enough to send Stan running home for some brandy.
Emile went nearer.He spoke to a big black cat
What’s going on?,he mewed.You are in my territory,
The black cat looked at him with his big green eyes.
We are witches‘ cats.We have come from all over Great Britain,excluding Northern Ireland as cats are not allowed on the boats now. no ratsl eft]..Tomorrow is All Hallows Eve and we are accompanying our multi-ethnic multicolored witches on a grand flight over Knittingham…tonight we are having,The Big Sing… at midnight precisely.
Did you remember to change the time on your smartphone,asked Emile.All the cats began to giggle and laugh.
We don’t need phones or clocks.We go by the stars and the moon…though doubtless the witches have watches.
Do witches have watches?,Emile asked Stan,after telling him why the cats were there.
Old witches have watches,Stan murmured,mesmerised by the vision of the cats swaying in the gale force winds.Thank God cats have fur,he thought lovingly.
Can we have a walk here,?he asked testily.
Well,Sir,do you recall a song from your childhood,If you go down to the woods today,you;’re sure of a big surprise.At your age,is your heart soft enough to stretch when you see five thousand cats…
I am sure I shall be ok as long as the Good Lord does not come here to feed them with five loaves and two fishes
All the cats laughed again.Stan was puzzled how they managed to stay in the trees with wind and giggles and a few scrapping and fighting as tom cats so when lady cats are near.
We are already full of fish supplied by all the local pet shops,markets and goldfish bowls!
How disgraceful, thought Stan,to eat pet goldfish.but owing to the number of crazy cats he decided to keep quiet…As he got nearer he saw a few cats smoking pipes..Well,I never knew cats smoked,he said to Emile.Maybe it’s magic mushrooms or coyote,the cat said cheekily
Do you mean peyote?,Stan said querulously.Coyote are animals..
Ah,well.you get my drift,Emile replied cheekily
What was most strange was why this big meeting was taking place in Knttingham
.Then he remembered it was the center of the UK…that must be it.Most intriguing to see all these cats.A few even had tartan ribbons on as they were from Scotland.But how did they travel so far.No doubt it was all arranged by the Chief Wizard.
Somehow Stan and Emile felt self conscious as the cats were almost glaring at them,reminding Stan of an occasion when he and his wife had wandered by accident onto a remote beach for gay nude men.The looks they gave the old folk were far from gay;So he and Emile turned round and headed for home… at least they were forewarned of the midnight concert they and Mary would hear.Stan made some tea with twice as many tea bags as usual.
as he was concerned he might get PTSD or worse,maybe kittzophrenia.This poor man was blessed with a vivid imagination.
When Mary came in from the University he called out,
We have had the most amazing day,Mary….But Mary was wearing a pointed black hat and cloak…. and a big smile.
I know what you mean,Stan….I am just off to take a peek myself.She picked up her broomstick and rode away into the darkening sky.~to think one could be both a witch and a mathematician,,though numbers have a certain magic of their own as we all know
They took,took you away,away.
They took you away
And nevermore will I see you.
The blonde with the artificial smile
Said it’d be just for a while
But I saw the black shape behind her
As she came through our door
And never more will I see you.
Nevermore be near you.
Why did she not see,
Why did she not look
Why no appointment but a raid on our home.
They made you go to a gym
When your valves were leaking
You could not eat,you could not speak
But you had no choice
And said,next week we’ll come to your house
To fit a few grab rails
I thought I was going crazy.
They tried to keep you out of the hospital
But you died in A and E
After 3 days of the gym and walking
So officially you were not in hospital
That maybe was the idea.
And we never had that quiet cup of tea
Never had anything together again
And late one evening,you could not speak properly
But you were worried about how I’d get home
And what I would eat.
So I said I’d take a cab
Because I can’t walk very far
Especially seeing what I saw…..
They said I was too anxious 48 hours before you died
That I should go home and watch TV
And soon you’d be there with me
But now I am thinking,
How soon will I be THERE with you?
No-one not even the cat came today.
But I saw some moths in a rug!
And that is good because wildness is normal
Cleanliness and neatness are only gained with effort.#
Today I have moved your chair
And the table where I put my little laptop
I played a video of me singing so I could go into the kitchen
And you would think I was sitting by you again.
I read a poem I wrote for you even though I don’t like the way I read
But a smile came on your face when you heard it
Your eyes were shut but you were listening
Oh, each day, is always that day for someone,some where.
We all lose and we all grieve for love is risky
But not to love is a curse.
So today is that day for me
And for women and men in this world
Whose love is dying.
It’s our good fortune to have given love
And received love.
But oh,today is the day that they took you away
And I can never,ever say
What I wanted to tell you as we drank tea
That you were the the best one for me
And I remember climbing cliffs and jumping over stiles
~Walking the Pennine Way,
Wish we were there today
Oh, please,can’t you stay?
Come back for one day…..
Mary watched the beginning of the News because Emile being male insisted he should be up to date politically.
First there was a good story that many migrants were rescued off Italy but alas another later boat capsized so far more were drowned.And Boris Johnson appeared like a pale imitation of Donald Trump complaining about immigrants here..
What do they want,she asked her kind cat.We weep if they drown yet will not admit them here just as it was with the Jews in the early days of Hitler.
Is it a a spiritual test?Do we value new kitchens and fancy aprons from Harrods above helping others.
Yes,said Emile.I am very selfish.I look after myself
Well you have no money Emile so you can’t donate.I suppose if an immigrant brings a cat you would let them share your home?
Definitely,the cat told her.You could marry a male immigrant and I could have fun with his cat.
Well,we’ll take it more slowly,Mary said..I am not quite ready to remarry and there might be a food problem.
You can have my tinned food if you want and I’ll go out and catch more mice.Cats can still hunt.
I suppose with some brown rice hot cat food might make a good meal.It looks like the potted meat we used to buy from the corner shop when I was a child.It’s jelly form stewed shin of beef or in cat food it may not be shin of beef it might be shin of mouse!Well,you are kind ,Emile although you look odd since you were swimming in the kitchen.Maybe you need a good rinse as the Persil might poison you if ypu lick it/
So she took Emile into the bathroom and he stood in a plastic bowl in the bath while Mary rinsed him down.Then she rolled a big soft bath towel round him and put him by the fire while she phoned Dave.
Dave,did you get indigestion from the fried batter? she enquired delicately
No,said Dave.I’ll have it again next time I come round. I’ve got a good idea for some games we can play too.
I hope Chess is not one because I don’t like thinking too much.I do enough writing my book on Wittgenstein’s clothes and whether Dirac was autistic.Though really,what mattered was his equation.It was a bit like a mirror where the negative of every positive resided balefully.Even Lacan had written about mirrors as had Sylvia Plath,
OK said Dave and I’ve met a really nice gay woman Gooyou might want to meet sometime
Why? said Mary
You need some TLC
I might take in some immigrants and they can look after me in return for free rooms.
And that is the end for today.Good night
Have you ever been involved in a hoax
With a lot of semi-drunken old blokes?
Well I do not like it
And will endure not incite it
Women prefer more to be coaxed
We hear a good deal about the dangers of the Internet but I have found on some poetry websites there are a lot of very kind exchanges.Also on bereavement,cancer etc.It can give people somewhere to turn when they are alone .The only surprise is that
a few people who make a great thing of their religion seem to be judgmental of others especially when they are evangelical.I suppose rejecting their approach must be felt as a blow.I believe in doing good secretly.But we should not judge when we don’t know people
Before Xmas one of my relatives asked me to promise not to marry again “just yet”.
I wonder why people are so free with advice.
I suppose now I might marry a woman so it doubles my chance of finding somebody I might get on with.But I’ve got used to having a bed to myself though a cat is welcome company.
It’s quite hard work being married,for women.All the time your head is filled with non-linear equations,aleph null and whether there is enough bread at home.And wondering if you should throw it all in and go to live in Tasmania with a sheep.
Mary watched the beginning of the News because Emile being male insisted he should be up to date politically.
Before Xmas one of my relatives asked me to promise not to marry again “just yet”.
How my heart sings 