I remember mother’s beauty and her coal stained and cracked hands Each little line was etched in black, like a map to other lands She always wore an apron that she made from an old dress How I loved my mother,I did I must confess.
I remember mother’s beauty and the row of nappy pins She always wore them like a brooch, while we kids made a din The baby had her rusks and milk, she had a little pot She slept inside a cradle then she moved into a cot
I remember most Mum’s cooking, the apple dumplings steamed The kettle too sat on the fire , I played and then I dreamed She had a tin of buttons, she was ace at making clothes She knitted like an acrobat to forget her many woes
Her daddy was a miner till he had a heart attack He came home black and dusty, then he filled his old tin bath When he retired he got a dog, he loved her very well He called her Lassie for her name, she was beautiful , my belle
Her daddy came to see us after our own daddy died He help my mother with odd jobs, then we all ate cake and cried
Salary should be dependent upon how soon people notice that you haven’t turned up for your work.
It would be a long time before anyone went looking for Jacob Rees Mogg compared to a refuse collector, n
. After an initial period of doubt, I’ve come to accept that we must stay indoors, even if we’re well, in order to avoid spreading the virus to those who are more vulnerable, and to free up capacity in our chronically underfunded health service.
I’m not, however, in lockdown. I’m meditating. I’m on retreat. I’ve become a hermit in my own home. The strongest feeling I’ve had since going into isolation is that we’re all being thrown in on ourselves. We’re being made to look inwards. And the really interesting thing about this is that, when you look inside yourself, you find everyone else there too.
I find I have two distinct kind of thoughts: those that are about myself, how I can look after myself and ensure that I come through this crisis intact, my self-preservation thoughts; and thoughts that are about other people, wondering how they’re feeling, and what I may be able to do to help.
The thoughts about other people have more power than the thoughts about myself. If I have a selfish thought I find that it’s almost immediately countered by something more generous. We’re all in the same boat really, all going through the same thing. It’s hard to pretend you’re a special case when everyone’s suffering; hard to make out you’re unique when the whole world is in exactly the same position.
I spurned the other cheek.
Adjourned but never leaked
I spurned the other’s sheep I turned the others weak I learned maths last week I burned like fire to meet
I earned his ire while bleak
I turned the gyre ,oh beak
The falcon cannot speak
My thinking is oblique
I’m spanking fit and neat
My husband’s hands were sweeet
I churned, my backside creaked.
Yeats wrote twice a week
Keats’ letters weep.
Was Mozart ‘s mother Greek?
Hebrew is our meat
Did angels look so chic?
God must be unique.
This lovely photograph was taken by Mike Flemming 2020 copyright
My street has got a WhatsApp group so that older people and sick people can ask someone to buy them food etc
Last night a man put some photographs of 3 coats belonging to his [ex] partner and asked if anyone would like to buy them.
Another person got angry and said this group is not for such purposes
Now they have both left the group after a few more exchanges… so even something trivial can blow up into a big problem
I think it waas inappropriate because if others began selling things it would fill up the messaging and detract from the aid being offered to the vulnerable.
But for both to leave seems sad
Make a cheese sandwhich.Cut into quarters and tie each up with cotton thread Then deep fry them No,I haven’t tried it yet
It’s just a way of getting excitement back into our lives but don’t let your cat eat it!
How did he feel?
He’s dying to go to Heaven
I feel your pain
Leave it alone.
How is the doctor
How is the phone?
It’s not alive!
Oh,my.Where shall we bury it?
Where is my dinner?
On page 67.
Why are we eating on our knees?
So we can pray while we dine
Where is the cat?
She ate the goldfish and has gone to Confession
But can animals sin?
She can’t even talk
There are silent ways of sinning
If we get divorced we could give that a whirl
But we’re Catholics!
That makes it even more sinful
I can’t wait
But it’s not a sin
How did you find my street?
You’re very moving
Who told you my name?
The teacher in infant school
That was eighty years ago
That was when she told me
Were you in my class?
I am now
What is it?
Old and vulnerable
How did you know where I was?
I followed you on FB
Shall we go out?
I thought we were.
Shall we go in?
I feel of of place
Why not go to bed?
We’ve not got up yet
So how are we outside?
We’re in a tent
I thought I was going mad
You’re mad already
What a relief.I can manage this just about
Shall we go out?
Come back to me, my sweetheart
Don’t leave me all alone.
Come back to me, my darling
I can’t believe you’ ve gone.
I’m crying ‘cos I’m feeling blue again.
I’m crying’cos I’m falling like a stone.
Oh, let me tempt you with my beauty
And my voice forever young.
Let me tempt you with my spirit
My laughter and my songs.
I’m crying ‘cos I never did you wrong.
I’m crying ‘cos with you I still belong.
I thought maybe I’d follow,
To see where you have gone
But there’s a hand upon this tiller
That is not mine alone.
I’m crying ‘cos I wrote this old blue song.
I’m crying ‘cos I’ve been lonely for too long.
The hand upon my tiller
The mystery of the dark
The unknown one who lives in me
And sings like a skylark.
I’m singing ‘cos I wrote you a new song.
Many people with ADHD like to keep their stuff in full view because they find that seeing a thing helps them remember to repair it, return it, remove it, or replace it. Unfortunately, clutter is unattractive and distracting. I wish there were a painless way to get rid of clutter. Alas, it takes a bit of work. But it will go more smoothly if you do things systematically.
To keep stuff out of sight but not out of mind, use labeled, see-through containers, bins, and baskets. Once you fill a container, that’s your cue to go through it and toss what’s not needed.
As I was standing in a special machine for a scan of my head, the words
” you want to have your head examined”
came floating back to me from childhood.I seem to recall it was an insult….
And it shows people believed insanity was a brain defect whereas a lot of the things we do when we are agitated might make sense if someone asked us a bit about our life.
After I had the scans two men were looking at them wondering if they had got the right place because what I have is not easy to see
In the end I told them to put gloves on and put a finger into my mouth to feel it
Well, I didn’t know it’s up to me to tell them what to do
Next,I’ll be having surgery and they’ll ask me to hold the knife while they decide what to cut out.Or maybe I’ll have to do it all while they learn…….
I absolutely will not behead myself in a hospital free
I will ask for £1,999,999 first.
My daft ideas as a child:
Instead of boiling the old kettle on the fire to make tea,I had a brilliant idea when I was eight years old
Why not put the teapot on the fire directly…..?
I was having to do things from the age of 7 or 8 which would be banned now
I decided as tea is not “dirty” then after stirring the tea I could put the teaspoon back into the drawer
That could have led to an interesting discussion… that milk is organic etc
Except I was only 7.
As someone said:dirt is only matter out of place.Cow’s milk should not be here in my fridge.So it is dirt.It should be feeding a calf.
I wonder why we use so much milk in our diet.Is it the comfort that reminds us of the benign breast? Though some were more benign than others.
Mary stood at the bus stop in her chocolate wool winter coat which Stan had always loved.It hangs so well,he had told her. The optional imitation fur collar had been removed as she preferred natural garment made from wool with no ostentation.As a matter of fact she has one of Stan’s woollen vests on under her gold silk top.Her hair fell in light blonde curls around her pensive face and her eyes looked as if she were seeing a dim vision of the Matterhorn in midwinter after drinking a double brandy
Suddenly she realised the bus was there ;she put her card up to the machine before looking for a seat.The bus was rather full so she sat down next to a youth with an i phone hanging from his hand.
Suddenly it rang.His chosen theme was, Please release me, sung by Tom Jones.
Mary smiled as, if she were near Tom Jones she would need no invitation to free him.
The youth began to speak rather louder than normal.
Mary tried not listen but it was impossible.She was too hot as well..Wearing Stan’s vest was a mistake as the bus was overheated.She turned pink like sunrise over ICI in Billingham as the pollution had a beautifying effect.
I’m sorry I wore your vest,she told Stan. I should have given them away but I was trying to save money on heating.Still I will be home soon.
Where is your microphone, the youth demanded.It must be one of those new tiny ones. A microphone? Mary said curiously. Yeah, he cried.I assume your phone is in your pocket.
Actually it’s in a pocket in my knickers,she informed h m in a manner resembling that of a mildly dotty scientist.We used to wear these knickers in the gym at school.
Did you not wear a top? he enquired,his eyes running over her hourglass figure like water falling off High Force in Teesdale. in summer storms.
Well.I didn’t have a bra until I got my grant to attend university,she told him sensitively.
Well,that’s news to me,he said.So you had to wear a bra at University? That was before feminism,of course.Did you burn it later?
Certainly not,said Mary.I’d been longing for one but my mother didn’t seem to notice my development which was her way of coping with adolescent girls.
Of course my brothers may have noticed but they were too nervous to tell Mother I needed anysupport.We were all so shy and afraid.Anyway be quiet now,I want to speak to my husband. Have you had your phone on all this time? he asked anxiously. No,I don’t need it to talk to him,she responded Why,where is he? the youth enquired sardonically. He’s on my knee,Mary informed him.In this bag.She pointed to her hessian shopping bag. I have just been to the Coop for him.I ought to have got a cab as he is quite heavy. Jesus Christ,cried the youth,hastily pressing the bell before leaping off the bus into a small pond that had been created b Hurricane Desmond.He swam away into the cold night. Well. that shut him up,Mary said to Stan. Mary,don’t become less gentle and kind,Stan said in her ear. I can’t be gentle now,she said.It’s a nasty tough world without you to help me and tell me what you think of Jeremy Corbyn.And do I need to have a roast dinner at Xmas or just some toad in the hole? I am sorry,sweetheart he murmured.Maybe you need assertiveness training. I’ll just get more aggressive,she replied.Micro-aggressive perhaps
.You’ll need more than micro in this era,he continued.Mary forgot to get off the bus and found herself in the Leisure Centre by the River Lee What about the river,Stan, she asked.
Would you like me to throw you in.A policeman standing near by ran over. Madam, is it suicide or murder, he asked her. No,it’s a life sentence,she said humorously as she put her hand up her skirt to get her phone. That’s a silly place to keep your phone he said.Anyway don’t call a cab,I can run you home in my car.Have you got any China tea?I could kill for a hot drink. I have some lapsang souchong,she told him.Do you fancy that?
I do, called Stan from the bag.
The policeman passed out. I told you not to get a boyfriend yet,he continued to Mary. I’ll do whatever I feel like,she said rudely.I could use a comforting arm around me. Stan sobbed quietly
.She said,quickly Don’t worry.I’ll get Emile to sit on my knee.Goodbye for now. Goodbye whispered Stan faintly. Good bye…. goodbye