LAST POST OF THE YEAR

It will be 2011 in ten minutes, so I’m taking some of those minutes to sum the year up. Yes it was good for me; I wrote a whole first draft of a novel in November! That deserves some applause, and I’ve managed to make the living room look warm and lived in – so it’s more presentable now. There’s still a lot to do to this flat but I’m happy with what I’ve done so far.

Excuse me while I go pour myself an enormous glass of Tia Maria – I’ll be back…

Mmmm, that is gorgeous.

Yes, there will be resolutions to gather and carry out; Tia Maria and Cadbury’s Caramel are just the things to help me with thinking them up. There’s a dog barking – he must’ve been sent out as someone’s first foot! Quiet now, they’ve let him in; I wonder if he was sporting whisky or vodka.

PRIORITIES

It’s freezing but narry a snowflake in sight, thank God, and I’m shawled-up waiting for the cold to hit my nose before I put the heating on. Life isn’t hard – I just don’t want to waste good money on heat when I can spend it on books and tarot cards. We all have choices to make and different priorities.

Number 2 son gave me the £300 he owed me the other week and I immediately buzzed into town in an attempt to buy myself some electrical/techno gadget so it wouldn’t fall into the housekeeping budget (or, God forbid, go towards paying a bill). No siree – that’s not what free money is for.

I bought myself a little baby laptop, a 10 inch pink gorgeous thing that actually fits perfectly into a bag I’d crocheted earlier. So that’s £200 done and the shops were closing so I went home and treated myself to a Chicken Korma. It was two days later that I got the chance to go out again and, following a TV advert, I tootled along to Asda and bought: a Kodak 12 million pixel camera for 49 quid, a digital photo frame, a toaster and a jug blender. So that’s me sorted for life.

Is it really? I say that about every camera or phone or laptop I buy and yet a couple of years later there I am at it again! I feel good, that in continually forking out to Musician all year I’d saved that money so it also feels as if I’ve acquired all this stuff for nothing. I really should have bought a new washing machine seeing at the corpse in my kitchen will never do any kind of job again, but you can’t waste free money on things like washing machines. Well, I can’t. I’ll save some money in a jar, and in the meantime hand-wash and dry it on the radiators when the heating is on – and I don’t create a lot of laundry.

Meanwhile, I’m waiting for my Ebay and Amazon buys to batter their way through the Christmas post. What are they? Why, books and tarot cards of course.

SCARY TIMES

While biting down on a lovely chocolate, I broke my crown. Yes folks, I lost my front tooth! Snap and out it came; this was during a shift so when the phone rang I had to work and talk as if I was a whole woman with a mouthful (almost) of teeth. And, it was a Friday night, and I leave for work early on a Monday and finish at six – gappy ‘til Tuesday, at least.

As it turned out, I’m still gappy. It’s been stuck back on and since fallen back off while I wait to see if my Tax Credit covers the cost of treatment, which is considerable because the lovely new dentist has diagnosed me as possibly suffering from an autoimmune condition called Sjogren’s Syndrome. In the 18 months since I’ve seen a dentist my four crowns are dead in the water and I need about five fillings, two of them root-canal. Apparently because I have dry mouth from a saliva problem the acid attacks the teeth… and this is one of the main symptoms of Sjogren’s… and I’ve had the saliva thing going on for about twenty years.

So, is there anyone out there in the doctor’s office collating these symptoms? No, it seems not.

The lovely dentist said that she would pass my case on to the dental hospital’s medical department, so I await that appointment as well as the news about when they can begin my treatment and I can get new crowns before the others take off too…

Meanwhile, I called my medical centre and booked a non-urgent appointment with the only doctor I’ve seen there, and like. That took two weeks, and now I’m waiting for the results of the blood tests. Amongst other things, she is testing for Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis. Scary stuff. I feel old now, and all the aches and pains I was experiencing thinking they were just old age creeping up on me are taking on a huge aspect of early death!

But I’m okay really. Well, I’m a canny and very sensible Scot and I’ll take my medicine, take what’s coming for me and just get on with it.

So, I suppose I should really pay more attention to my health and try to lose a lot of weight. I’ve been re-writing my old diet blog because I want to keep it up to follow the madness that is me on a diet. Fatty McSlob is now a page attached to my writing blog. I’ve added pictures and hope it’s funny enough to keep a reader’s attention. I’ll catch it up to date soon.

This is my fifth day without chocolate, cake or biscuits. Pat me on the back!

THOSE WERE THE DAYS (my friend)

I lived deep in a community when I was a child. Everyone knew who did what, when, where and gossiped it behind closed doors or into ears behind a flat hand. The tyrant grandmother had lived there from before the builders left; she knew all and everything. None of that mattered to me – my life skipped rope, threw two balls against any wall and delved into the RSD.

The RSD had been an internment camp during the war and even though it had gates, they’d been pried open long enough for grass to grow and an invitation thrown out. It was heaven. We spent whole days in there, often without lunch, and would come home filthy and starving at tea-time. The choice of adventure might lie with the froggy-pond, the Monkey-puzzle tree, the old house, the burn, the rope swing or little brick houses/kennels that we called the Zig-zags (because of the roofs). When there were no boys with us, we girls brushed them out and played house; we built armchairs with loose bricks and served up a dinner of wild strawberries or brambles on leaves.

My grandchildren and their like will never have this kind of experience. Camping with their father, and days in the big parks might echo remnants but could never leave the same impression.

People only stayed indoors when it rained. In the late 50s early 60s there was no day-time television except for a lunch-time programme and the news. On warm evenings my mother would put a pillow out on the window ledge of the front room, and watch us play a game of Rounders in the street. She spoke to every passer-by. I don’t remember anyone on our small street having a car so we had an empty road to play in and hardly ever had to move…except for the ice-cream van. Oh, the games we played in that street: Kick the Can and Olevio were different versions of Hide and Seek. One version was played in the dark with torches to root us out of the huge back gardens – spooky; they still had bomb-shelters up the middle. Sometimes the younger adults would join us and the oldies hung out of the windows.

Those were the days of long, hot summers when the tar of the roads and pavements melted and spoiled our white ankle socks. I wore Clark’s sandals and home-made cotton dresses that appeared years later in patchwork quilts. All the boys wore short trousers until they went to the big school after the eleven-plus. Dirt loved us and scabby knees were compulsory. Time stood still but it must have been moving because here I am – heading for sixty and wondering where it’s all gone.

All the paddling in burns, catching minnows and firing stones at water-rats, has made me the individual I am. We also caught bees, tadpoles, newts and frogs. I am ashamed to say that we tortured the bees in cans of water and cooked them on fires; we pulled the wings and legs off Daddy-long-legs…and my brother once deep-fried a newt in my mother’s chip pan. Of course I shopped him and he got thumped after Mum threw the whole pan out in the bin!

On Saturdays our street gang would go to the ABC Minors in Shawlands, and the big kids would look after the little ones – this was a twenty-minute bus ride away. During school holidays we’d go swimming, again in the same group, and the big kids taught us to swim. These big kids would maybe be about twelve, and there were only two of them – in charge of six or seven others at varying ages; that wouldn’t be allowed now.

Thinking of this reminds me of that movie Stand by Me where the boys go in search of a boy’s body; it’s from a Stephen King story that completely captures what it was like to be a kid in those (safe) days. Those days are long gone.

WHAT HAVE I DONE LATELY?

Joined the gym. Honest to God, I did! Last Sunday I experienced my induction and made a pile of promises. I was supposed to take part in an exercise class on Wednesday but my grandchildren dragged me around Balloch park instead, which did the job. But, if I had written my status on Facebook on Thursday it would’ve read: Many Kit-Kats later, I remembered that healthy eating was supposed to be on the menu from this week.

I’d already warned my grandchildren that if they felt an earthquake then that would be me in the gym.

‘I never heard an earthquake, Granny,’ my granddaughter said, during our tour of the park.

‘That’s because I haven’t been back yet. Keep your ears open.’

Maybe I’ll go tomorrow. I told Carrie about it on the phone today and she said she’d text me. We’ll see. Meanwhile, two Magnum ice-lollies later, I’m thinking of popping out to the shop for chocolate.

I have been good though, on the writing side of life, and worked very hard on poems for the Scotia Poet Laureate competition at the end of the month…and there is also the Poetry Scotland event at Callander the weekend after. Looking forward to stewing myself in all that lovely poetry – well I hope it’ll be GOOD rather than lovely.

Still gripped in the arms of audio books and am presently diving into the cannon of Orson Scott Card; some of his work is brilliant, and so addictive that I just move on to the next book in the series; I’m on the last one of the Enderverse series – fantastic stories.

It’s so hard to believe that we’re racing towards the end of another year – and I still haven’t got carpet laid in the hall! Time doesn’t wait for old women – it just belts along and doesn’t care if we catch up or not.

I also cut my hair – actually made a right mess of it; it’s not as easy to cut decent chunks off long hair as it is to crop or style. It reached my bum but now that I’ve cut about eight inches off, it seems even thicker and unmanageable. Think I’ll just go the whole hog and cut it into a bob. Another we’ll see.

There's Sense in them there Hills

Last Sunday, our Scottish summer hit the highlights and I got fried – I was sitting in the woods for God’s sake! There I was, relaxing on picnic benches in dappled shade, with flashes of direct sunshine on my arms and face. Oh I was hot stuff all right; hot for three days, with a crispy nose and forehead. My arms were so swollen that the blood supply to m hands was restricted. I thought I was dying and almost took the day off work on Monday. What a daft old bat…and after me writing that scathing poem about Glaswegians diving into sunburn whenever the sun pokes its head at us.

Look how sensible Tilly was:

This is her showing off my dream house, that wonderful arched doorway in a tree trunk!

And here we have Picnic-Mama with everything you could possibly want on a low carb, vegetatian diet! F.A.B.

Picnics in woods by a loch, where big white carbs are banned, so that meant no wine too - Ooh, the ring of bright water surrounded us with health and sensibility.

A NEW DAY

First thing I do when I open my eyes in the morning is check the time and work out what I'm supposed to be doing, then I switch on the laptop. So, how does the day escape? Is sucked into my evil clutches to be dawdled and frittered away while my mind flits across the net, forgetting that time is of the essence?

I confess – I am a time-waster. I need rules. The year has half-gone; last time looked it was spring.

Tonight is my first appointment with the health and fitness trainer. The doctor referred me in order to regain any future that might be allotted to me. There will be rules and regulations there.

I need to take a ruler and draw a margin down the side of my life, insert some kind of time-table, measure action against inaction – do the accounts before they become due because this inspector isn’t collecting tax!

Good health has followed me all the days of my life, so far, but if I don’t pay attention it might desert me for another – maybe it’ll have an affair with the woman across the road… God knows she needs it.

I confess; I have been careless and uncaring, presumptuous of time but now the borderline is racing towards me. Where are my manners? I should welcome a new world order and set the table with a freshly-embroidered cloth, and, plant a menu in the centrepiece to catch my wandering eye.

Much later…

Well, my fears were justified; two readings of high blood pressure put a stop to the proceedings until I see my doctor to discover if it’s a fluke or a problem. Am I late? Too late for a very important date? Put your scythe away Reaper, I’ll be battering down the door of the health centre in the morning. I’ll be back.

IT'S JUNE - AT LAST!

Maria MacKee wildly sings Show me Heaven…leave me breathless, in my ear and the wind blasts me from across the loch. I marched here – honest I did, but I stopped at MacDonalds on the way for coffee and a small chicken mayo sandwich.

Someone was sitting on my bench so I had to take another further back, so the view is not so nice…except that a man has just stripped off in front of me and gone swimming. He stopped to rub Vaseline under his arms and on his inner thighs. Oh that water will be cold; the sun’s hot rays barely touch us here.

See what I mean? That is a grey outlook. Now the midges are crowding me and Springsteen is crooning Secret Garden. Mmmm. As my brave swimmer went into the water Alexandra Burke sang her Hallelujah. There is no sun, just grey clouds and a light wind – a fine day for swimming in a Scottish loch, I don’t think.

I can see his arms curving out of the water way over the other side; this is the beginning of the loch, just to the left of where the river Leven enters. My lovely iPod Touch is loving being switched to music today, as opposed to books – that helped me march. I swung my old and lazy self a quarter of a mile to get here to completely fabulous sounds…and now it’s While my Guitar Gently Weeps.

My bench became free and I flew up the steps to sit on my little promontory to face my mountain with The Sundays wonderful Static and Silence in my ears. The swimmer is trawling around the bay and sometimes across to the wooden poles (don’t know what you call them). That’s some work-out.

Oh I’ve let my hair down – can’t remember the last time I did that, probably never, not at this length. It’s too heavy for the wind to lift and just lies down my back. Bruce is belting out, These are better days. It is so fabulous to be sitting here feeling the wind and sun on my face with the loch at my feet. The water doesn’t make the sound of waves lapping at a shore; it’s more like a river running. I need to get out more.

TRUTH & FICTION

Aye, the years are fair drawing in; I’ve been thinking about dying, and how it could come all too soon. Really, I have pondered on the fact that my family are not long-lived and I might only have a very small amount of time left to do the things I want to do. Hopefully I will be the exception and will bang on ‘til I’m a centurion. Mostly, I want to see my grandchildren grow up but the fact is, that the longer I live the more likely it’ll be that I’ll lose a child and I definitely don’t want that.

So, to be that selfish I will have to be tough enough to keep going through the loss of my friends and writing buddies, and whatever the barmy politicians drag us into – the way they’re going the western world could be wiped out this decade!

Someone recently asked, why do you write? I said I wanted to entertain my future progeny with true stories, and strangers with my fiction and poetry. It’s so easy, these days, to communicate and spread our personal history; we can tell the stories that would have died with us.

When I was a child I loved to sit and listen to the adults talking, gossiping and telling tales of old childhoods; my children had only a little time to spend on that because technology was interfering; my grandchildren won’t have a minute to allow old tales to sink into their memory. I hope there will be at least one amongst those future grandchildren, however great, who will be a reader and perhaps a writer, but interested in what has gone before.

I have experienced a lot in my life, and the horror is hysterical in its own way – I will make it attractive and someone will read it, I’m sure. But, I’m having fun learning how to show them how it was for me…of course, I’ll fictionalise the sexy bits so they won’t know what’s true to me or someone else. Ordinary life will be straight and true.

EATING THAT FISH

The idea was to invite those who eat fish over to mine; I would cook number-three grandson’s catch and serve it up. So, the menu was:

Sea trout – cooked with lemon

Chips

Tomato ketchup

followed by

Marshmallows for pudding

I travelled across town by bus to pick up the three youngest and bounciest of my son’s children, and took them to the park for an hour – hoping to run the little devils calm. It didn’t work. Enthusiastically independent, they soon had me exhausted – it’s taken me all evening to get over it all!

The fish was lovely but they didn’t eat it because it was a real live (dead) animal and not covered in batter or breadcrumbs. An experiment gone wrong; they’re too young for real life.

What a great idea to have marshmallows for pudding – one half of the table racing the other to see how many we could eat.

I am so glad to be back in my hermit status; the flat has been trembling at the memory of their visit and things are almost back to normal.

When I returned them to their happy and relaxed parents, Bingo was laughing at the thought of me being in her shoes…and that was only with three of them and only for four hours! Oooh, I feel so old.

The Fisherman

Number 3 grandson caught his first fish - it's big enough to make his father jealous... and, it will be moving to a freezer near me verrrry soon!

I've given myself a deadline for the 1st of March to begin my healthy eating lifestyle, again. Out goes all the chocolate and in with all the fish, meat and eggs and green veg I can muster. Sad, but inevitable :(

PILLARS OF THE WORLD

This is the first book I’ve read this year, and I loved it. I was sucked into this world from the beginning and read it in a week – which is good for me.

Written by Anne Bishop who is the author of the bestselling Black Jewels Trilogy – well that’s what it said on the cover. I’m researching Fantasy as a genre because I want to write something witchy and magicky, so had called for suggestions. What a wonderful start; a very satisfying read.

The story drags us into a world where a struggle between humans and Fae has existed for generations; witches live in a kind of peace between them until the arrival of the witch-hunter.

It is written from many points of view which immediately gives the reader the three stars of the show in three quite short chapters. Something mysterious is happening to the world of the Fae, the witch-hunter is killing a witch, Death’s Mistress is gathering the dead, and our young MC is being treated unkindly in the village. What more could you want? I read on, and on. My first taste of Fantasy since I was a teenager is a success, I’m glad to report.

And now I have to choose another. I’ve had a great time these last few weeks, swapping books, and the day that five books were stuffed through my letter box was definitely red letter. Imagine, watching the postman squeezing all these brown parcels into that hole in the door – so fast that I couldn’t get to it to open it for him! I’ve abandoned a Terry Pratchet, The Wee Free Men and don’t think I’ll go back to it, yet. The Name of the Wind is calling to me so I might answer it first.

THE LONG HAUL

I’m saying goodbye to my old writing community; after three years it’ll seem strange not to click in there for a chat, but it’s time to move on, for a while. I might return at some point because it feels like home. I’m a bit like a teenager, running off to join the circus – belting out into the world to see what kind of life I can make for myself. More like what kind of trouble I can get myself into! No – I’m too old for trouble.

And, I’ve got a new one to pick up the pieces, to critique my blunders and help me shape this novel that feels as if it’s on the road to the end. This week I posted what I thought was a well-edited version of Chapter Two but there were a couple of great slovenly elephants sitting right in the middle of it! Cheek. Litopia has so many brilliant eyes and opinions that a writer can’t help but improve because of it. It’ll do me.

As the years went on, I neglected my old group, Women’s Fiction on WriteWords. I also neglected my writing but I keep the online friends I found there and hope to always have them around, in the ether, in the world of writers and artists – some of them are in Litopia too. Maybe all roads lead to this utopia for writers. I know that I’ve trawled and tried many, many groups and communities, as have a lot of fellow Litopians – so I’ve moved in lock stock and smoking barrel.

WriteWords is worth every penny of its yearly fee; it served me very well. Over the years I was also part of several other communities and enthusiastically took part in all sorts of writing games and exercises but now I need to settle down for the long haul; it’s time I was serious and put my nose to the ground/grind. I think Litopia is the grown-up place, the colony where career is held up to a mirror and you have to see your real self - not a picture of Dorian Gray.

My Bench at Loch Lomond

THE SUN IN MY FACE

On my way into work on the train; a train with a pretty clean window, for a change but the scene is not as stunning as it was the last two Mondays - but interesting.

I like the red blob; wonder whatever happened to the clown it might've been attached to!

There's something so peaceful about this - kind of holy, isn't it.

I'd like to live here, in a castle keep of my very own.

HAPPIER

I have just discovered Google Docs. How F.A.B. is that? I was prowling the app store looking for something to hold and move files, found a cheap office thing that invited me to connect with the Google Docs and I love it. I've never really used Google except to search...and here it's got all these lovely functions and stuff! You might not see me for days - weeks even!

So I've copied loads of bits of stories and ALL the novels over there so I can edit, write as the mood takes me when I'm out and somewhere with wifi. I've been inspired to blog three times tonight; once in my DIET blog too. Only good can come of this.

Well, What a Surprise - not

Well, I think I’ve battered Chapter One into the right kind of shape. Now I can push through the next four chapters to get to the muddy bit; the bit that hadn’t been written/created before I dived into Nano. This is where I have to take myself in hand and do the Billy Connolly impression – ‘Appreciate Cunningham, appreciate!’ to which I must reply, ‘Sir. Yes sir!’

I can feel the excitement bubbling up; the idea that I’m going to write through the missing middle of this book and eventually write the ending that’s just appeared in front of me (with a bit of help from Lulu) makes me want to freeze everything around me. I will sit down and do it, as much as I can as often as I can…but I’m still me – lazier than a sloth!

Internet and writing forums are my life blood but I don’t have to keep checking every ten minutes – I could get a whole paragraph done in the time I waste popping in and out of sites. Maybe a timetable would work. Pshaw! (I think that’s how they say that) ‘Know thyself!’ (Is that a bible quote?) This is just a little hump in the middle; it’s not a huge bloody mountain – it’s just that if feels like work. I like to slide along on the seat of my pants – do things off the cuff at the last minute.

I’ve been in this area for almost/about 15 months and am only now changing my doctor – days before I need my repeat prescription! It takes two weeks to get an introductory appointment so I have to go two days without my medication and pick up the scrip at the old place on Monday. Slap me now. Yes, I know I’ve demanded that before.

When I started this entry I didn’t plan on battering myself but it was inevitable.

TWINKLE

Thinking about fairies, my mind springs into a land of lilac and green. My whole bedroom is painted lilac (I was given the paint) and I stuck luminous stars on the ceiling with a crescent moon (was given them too) to bring a little magic into my life. The light shade is pale blue, an upside down cotton, four-sided pyramid with a tassel dangling about breast-height (this was another gift). If I could just get up off my arse and accessorise it would be little-people heaven, with crystals and all sorts of witchy bobbles. Actually, the ceiling is the only part of the room that could be called finished!

Though, I can feel the energy and impulse to lay carpets and style the walls with whacky and wonderful pictures, returning. The ideas sit in front of my eyes as I aim for sleep and slip back when I wake every morning. Soon, I tell myself, soon – but it’s almost the end of January already! I moved in here fifteen months ago and am still treading floorboards, looking at bare walls.

I suppose I could think of the flat as a new novel, or an autobiography, or an art journal; I’ve just bought a beautiful book about keeping an art journal, and created the first page. There are no fairies on that page but I have a lovely key-hook bar-thingy with fairies and tulips on the ends…and there’s a gorgeous pewter fairy who has lost her feet – I need to pin her up somewhere.

All my pretty things need homes; they want to be a part of my space – instead of hiding in drawers, cupboards, boxes and shelves. So, I shall spread my wings, sprinkle my fairy dust and wave my wand until this flat twinkles with eccentricity.

BABY STEPS

These legs were made for walking, and that’s just what they did. I walked into Alexandria yesterday, and this photograph is the proof that I was on a pavement. It wasn’t so bad, and only took about ten minutes. Of course you know that my first stop was a café, where I rested with my £1.40 latte and mused at the audacity of this extreme exercise. Then I took out the lovely iPod Touch and had a read of The Circular Staircase.

Being out in the world without wheels is strange, especially when you don’t have the luxury of the Glasgow underground to carry you super-quickly into town or the west end. I’ve only been in this area for about fifteen months and really don’t know much about the buses but as soon as the weather brightens I might remedy that with an all-day bus ticket on one of my days off. That’s a plan.

And I’m planning to do it all again today. I got a bus back yesterday, with a haul of books from the charity shop. All I need to do is get up and out of this flat. Oh but the sky is dull and grey and not inviting at all. There is no milk or toilet roll. It’s a new year and the universe has set me upon a new path so I should embrace it and socialise these old bones. Right, I’m up. I’m going.

LOCH LOMOND IN THE SNOW

And here's my loch, skirted with that long-lasting white stuff! That is my bench, on the point of land. A fantastic position to muse.

Ooh isn't it stunning? Even using the phone camera I've captured magic.

Give a little wave to The Maid of the Loch!

Just discovered that my real camera is broken - thank the gods for the phone :-)

What a great writing table!

TIMING; Belt or Otherwise

A belt snapped and off went my Clio to the scrap-yard, to be ripped apart. What health bounds before me on these legs? Shall I walk everywhere or wait for buses? I could stride towards the train; a half-way trip of exercise and relaxation – more reading!

The life of a passenger might not be quite so bad. There, I’ve talked myself into it, a quiet happiness and more money…but then I’d be able to pay my debts so actually less money to me, but a more settled life and future.

Yes, this is a whole new way of life. When I was in Glasgow I lived beside the subway and could walk to work – though I always took the subway for that one stop. But this is almost the Highlands! It takes over an hour to get to Glasgow  on the bus; it would take me days to get to work! Well, that’s an exaggeration. A long time, but I could spend all that time reading. I like that. I haven’t had a lot of time for reading recently on account of fannying about on the net.

So, everything in front of me is rosy. That romantic far off future where everything is perfect and dreams come true. The truth of it is the reality of public transport and our notoriously changeable weather. I can work from home, for the moment, but as soon as my boss can change my shifts to all days I’ll be out in the cold, waiting for a bus – with my book.

Meanwhile, I’ll be saving up all the money I’m not paying to get to work, to buy a new old banger!

A NEW DIARY

Last year I kept a mundane diary and I’m glad it’s done; it was pretty boring, except for a few exciting bits, like my granddaughter rushed to hospital with Meningitis and a grandson kidnapped by his useless father and taken to live in Birmingham.

     So, when my daughter gave me another diary for Christmas I nearly had a fit. It’s okay, it’s not full page days. I’ve taken on the task of filling this book with a poem for each day (or just a scribble in poetic form)…and without further ado, I present to you, the first few days of 2010:

1^st

Ooh the yearly eating and drinking

not driving home but staying overnight

at someone’s pleasure is becoming stale –

next year I might forgo the alcoholic part

and drive back to my controlled space

where I depend only on myself, and the patience

of Npower regarding old, multiplying bills.

Already, the change is upon me; it sifts possibilities

I feel pregnant with it all.

 

2^nd

Editing, so that someone can sit in judgement

announce me writerly enough for full membership

of their community – makes me want to sit up

pay attention to the change that’s coming.

I am not the same as I was.

 

3^rd

Ooh the last of five days off – it hovers

and drips away. A new year waits in the corners

normality will assume its position and settle

around my shoulders like a boa constrictor.

 

4^th

The first alarm of the year sounds itself

too early in this snow-laden gloom

I wish it to Hell and gone, wish for solid riches

to pay bills, to shoulder the burden

of my existence while I play with words.

Come hither, First Novel

end your days with me.

Let me type those two words, The End

on your gravestone

for this is the year of your birth.

 

5^th

The white world of 2010 stretches our patience –

this is not Norway; we didn’t sign-up for this ice

and our cars are a constant worry. God

give us the power to stay on our feet

and not break bones or skid off roundabouts.

Let the raindrops fall and we’ll never complain

again. We want to feel the warmth of soft

Scottish rain on our hair, see it carry away

the snow, slush and ice…and wash our cars.

 

I LOVE MY PHONE

I LOVE MY CAR

PORTENT

Oh my God. I’ve just begun the first day of the new decade with an iron in my hand! I haven’t touched an iron in years. What does this mean?

Well, it started because I made myself a new bag, that had to be pressed flat, so while I was doing that I thought I’d iron a shirt that I can’t wear because I won’t (normally) iron. One little detail and my life has slipped down some kind of housewifey tangent; I’ll have to do something more normal to reset the balance. I had a Scotch egg for breakfast – could that be considered too straight because of the ingredients? And now I’m on to the ginger beer.

In two hours I will be sipping sherry, preparing to scoff an enormous meal at my friend’s enormous dinner table in her enormous dining room, then on to wine which inevitably leads to a change of rooms and the whisky – Ooh the whisky. So I’d better go find something suitable to wear for this gathering and dig out an entertaining poem to read.

 

STAR STRING

There was something strange in the sky tonight. A little while ago I went into the kitchen to see if I could see the Blue moon and instead noticed a star really sparkling. The longer I looked at it the longer it became, until it resembled a string of stars, like maybe three or five, going down in a line. Very weird. I opened the window to see properly in case it was the double glazing affecting my eyesight but it was really real. Actually, I’ll just go and see if it’s still there – hang on…No, the sky is swamped in a great stretch of grey cloud, but I’ll have another look before I settle down and try to sleep, again.

So I begin the new decade sleepless; maybe this is part of my old age, that I’ll only ever need a few hours of sleep a couple of times a night – all the more time to write!