Day: January 27, 2018

The broad sands  of old Redcar

The broad sands  of old Redcar were all bare
Dark ochre with  a touch of  lighter tones
Easter time we walked  to Saltburn pier

Cold  but happy  with my love right there
Hand in hand, I felt his long thin bones
The broad sands  of old Redcar  town were  bare

They say the perfect love casts out all fear
As if  a person’s found their rightful home
Easter time we wandered to  the pier

Loved and known who has not shed a tear?
Teesmouth is as wide as  winter storm
The broad sands  of old Redcar  town were  bare

As the river  must submit  to sea
So  loving does much more than keep us warm
Joyous days we walked to Saltburn pier

 

The river rushing downhill like a hare
Made  next a valley  fertile  with green charm
The broadening  river mouth ate sand like air

How  we laughed like children arm in arm
Smiling at the sky and tickling palms
From the  sands  of  Redcar,  rapt we stared
Saw North Sea   and gazed  at Saltburn pier

If we are conversations

I heard your voice outside the glass front door
I  felt no shock nor worry  nor surprise.
But there a man, whose image is a blur,
Handed me a box with friendly cry.

What part of me still waits for your return?
Why don’t I know you’re gone and shan’t come home?
What  knowledge must my  puzzled heart still learn?
Why do I get an urge to search and roam?

If we are conversations ,as I read,
Then our  exchange has ended with your death;
And so I  am not she with whom you laid.
Nor she with whom you shared a common breath.

When deprived of  hearing your response.
I   am no longer she whom I was once.

Nor cries when they fall into their hallway

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We think about big issues and  politics
Then are banjaxed by road works,pain in the foot
Or bad neighbours
I bet nobody in the government
sits on those plastic seats at the bus stop
Or on the stairs in Waterstone’s reading a book
Spoiling their red coat.
Nor cries when they fall into their hallway
After just managing to  turn the key in the lock
I even have a chair there now
Specially made for a wailing woman.
That’s my life and how I feel about it
It bit.

Stan meets another lady

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Mary had soon spotted her 98 year old frail yet virile husband Stan; he was across the road talking to a young blonde and buxom woman
Mary ran over the road in front of all the traffic as she was not pleased  about Stan  perhaps getting another mistress.
Hi,I am Mary, she said loudly
I am called Sabrina.I’m a mathematician too, over for a year from Babylon University USA
Why,hello,Sabrina.Stan loves clever women… and in your case,you also have great beauty,she said dishonestly
Hi Mary,Stan told me you were out buying some vaseline in the pharmacy down the other end of the town.He invited me to coffee.
Oh,damn,I must have had a senior moment.It was that Jazz Band that distracted me.I forgot about that Vaseline..
Come on,ladies,said Stan as he led them into a brand new coffee shop staffed by delightful, smiling Turkish people.He ordered three cappucinos plus some milk for Emile who was in his backpack.
They sat down by the windows and gazed at the folk passing by in some rather unusual clothing.Emile was sad there were no other cats around
Sabrina was was wearing a short pink velvet dress on her curvaceous body and green high heeled shoes.
Do you find wearing velvet is very warm in the summer?,asked Mary.She was wearing a long cotton dress and some open toed sandals from Hotters.
Well,it’s cotton velvet,Sabrina told her.Most is polyester now.I made this myself.I enjoy sewing.
I have never learned to sew,Mary told her nervously.I was afraid of the electric sewing machine at school and my mum was very impatient. Still,it’s probably cheaper nowadays to buy your clothes ready made.
Soon the women were engrossed in a discussion of their favourite fashion shops and styles; colours and shapes.occasions and casual clothing
I like a pure new wool coat in winter,said Mary..I find down filled coats seem to make me perspire too much or even feel faint
Anyway,it’s my face which sweats.I can’t put antiperspirant there…
No,it is likely to give you a rash and anyway the body needs to sweat to get rid of toxins,Sabrina informed her scientifically yet charmingly.
I don’t mind sweating on my legs,Mary said.
But it’s embarrassing giving a lecture on why e is  not an algebraic number with rivulets of water running down my face washing off my foundation cream and powder..though do the students notice?
Yes,that is a real problem,Sabrina said wisely.I never knew anyone still wore powder.I like creme de mousse foundation myself.
Meanwhile Stan sat and gazed pensively at Emile……..he rolled his eyes and Emile smiled in his cat manner; that is,he grinned.
I came here to talk naughtily and sexily to sweet Sabrina,not to listen to both women discussing sweat and antiperspirants.,Stan continued.
Well,life is what happens when we are busy washing out our pans,Emile told him pointedly
I don’t think that is quite right,said Stan.
And I have already washed all the pans and hoovered the ceilings…
Well,you see, much of life is out of our control.That’s why people like to take the Bible literally.They prefer to think End Times are here, than to realise life is always changeable and unpredictable.Anything seems better than uncertainty or doubt.
How have you found teaching topology,Mary asked Sabrina.
I find it’s more fun than teaching logarithms,she continued,and exponentials… some people find that a tough topic,
Yes,I love teaching topology… and functional analysis.
Blimey, thought Stan, this is even worse than sweat and antiperspirants.I hate maths.
I use lily of the valley soap,he cried,interrupting the ladies.
Why,are you gay? asked Sabrina with interest.
No,I just use whatever Mary is using.I have no choice.
Why don’t you buy him some soap smelling of parsley,she asked Mary.Or can he not buy some h imself?
Why, can you get that? Mary responded.Coal tar is one we tried but he hates it…I think for men there’s not a lot of choice…
But,Sabrina cried,A man smelling of lilies of the valley might cause a disturbance,even a riot in a small town like this.
Why should women have all the lovely smells and men smell of coal tar and smoke?Stan asked.Men like flowers too,you know.
The ladies looked at him with wonder as they sipped their lovely cappucinos.
I never thought of that before,Mary said.
Neither did I,Sabrina added.. this is not related to my work but my fiance is a psychologist and he’d like to know about it.
Alright,ladies… time to go.Emile needs his dinner.So off they went all wrapped in their thoughts like feathers stuck inside a fluffy pillow on a big bed.
Not what anyone had expected…but change is good for us,surely? Now we can wonder what sort of soap Dave,the delightful paramedic wears.. and does he use a 48 hour deodorant..?
Please wait calmly as excitement wears people out.I am not responsible if you fall over your own feet.
 Wow 2

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Are women better writers than men?

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Photo EL 2018 copyright

phttp://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/women-writers-infographic_n_5675866

 

“Readers believed men were more likely to “get to the point,” whereas women were more likely to focus on “character development.” Women were believed more likely to write about people (as opposed to “things”) than men, and were also thought more likely to craft long sentences.

It’s unclear whether these beliefs are rooted in actual trends, or stereotypes about Hemingway-esque masculinity and Woolf-like meandering. But it certainly could explain why J.K. Rowling chose a male pen name, Robert Galbraith, for her plot-heavy mystery novels. Regardless, Grammarly concluded: “Women tend to be more descriptive in their writing, and spend more time developing a greater variety of characters than men. Perhaps as a result, women are generally regarded to be better writers than men.””