THE KISS OF LIFE

Oooh, winter is coming and the world, as I knew it, is gone; hundreds of pounds of already-used heat sailed from my kingdom - time to face the mountain and its weather. The best tool I have is this bed, this ship, these quilts and blankets, this laptop and super-furry slippers. I can feel the chill lying on my shoulders, sliding down my arms but I've yet to feel the kiss of ice on my nose - when it reaches the cheekbones I'll turn that dial, hear the explosion of the lovely gas jets - BOOOF! and the tide will turn, balance is to be my new life - I can touch but only dream of further depths.

Where does money go when it dies? I seem to have missed the funeral and gone straight to grieving but I am graceful - there has been no bawling, no disgraceful wailing in public, gnashing of old teeth. A regular lottery ticket is the only residue of the old ways.

I would rather be in this space than that public hanging, that general tripping of extortionate handbags...all hail to hermitism and sequestration; the unclean den of iniquity and vicarious living, internet ramblings and tv-on-demand. My skin will wrinkle with secrets and imaginings, each line a tale to be told, each pucker a lesson. Only in reflection can truth be seen.

Oh I can glaze over all my faults and forgive the world its heartlessness in this, my new benevolence. I will be a new woman, reborn - a virgin queen, kissed by the chilling lips of stupidity and wayward dreams.

REALITY

I have to confess to a small case of Lazyitus – well I hope it’s a small case. I lay in bed last night (early hours of the morning) planning to get up and write for most of the day today, Oh I was going to do all sorts but I was delayed. The bed held me back. I automatically took my first cup of decaffeinated tea into the bedroom and slipped between the covers again, then, as the laptop warmed up, my hand reached out for the lovely shiny thing that is my iPod Touch – and that was me snookered. I’ve been here all day.

 

Of course I have to set the beautiful thing up; assign favourites in uTube, checkout the apps I captured last night and learn how to type on the fabulous little keyboard. The fact that today was my first weighing-in day fell by the wayside, and even that I’ve lost 10lbs – YES 10 whole lbs! didn’t make a dent in my prone position on that bloody bed. I can write like this too but did I? No, I consoled myself that my back was still a little sore so I should take another day off. Twit that I am.

 

Well, anyway, I’ve had a lovely day and have X-Factor to look forward to tonight (yeah right, with the diabolical twins) but I know that the CSIs will be repeats, so perhaps I’ll write then. I’ve been surrounded with blankets and can now feel the cold sinking into my shoulders so I’d better go put the heating on and have some dinner.

 

Now that I’ve bought my new toy and set it up, there’s not a whole lot left to do with it until I go out – which I don’t plan to do for a while. There is no more dreaming of the thing; it’s born and will be a normal feature of my life, so I might as well spend the time writing and finish this bloody novel. Hmm.

OUT BUT NOT ABOUT - Well not much

Well, I did get up on my legs and go out of the house, but only for an hour and there wasn't actually much walking because I took the car (500 yds) to my favourite spot. I had to walk from the car to my bench (10 yds) to glory in this view.

NaNo Begins

Oh I’m busy beavering away at the novel for NaNo – keeping pace, but it’s only day three; plenty of time to screw up! No, I’m not going to do that this year. I’ve got two weeks off work to get myself into a nice routine. I did think of running ahead of the game but I could turn myself right off doing that. So, nice and easy it is; just what I’m supposed to do and no more.

 

Though, after three days in bed I’m getting a bit twitchy – I’m in here with the laptop, hiding from the TV. So, I think I might take myself out to the loch tomorrow. Mmm, fresh air, exercise, photography, coffee…Oh God, it sounds positively dangerous!

 

I’ve also been thinking of cleaning the flat, finishing the wallpapering in the kitchen even – then moving the fridge to do the other side. Maybe I’m ill. I haven’t slept much the last two nights; my friend says it’s because I haven’t been out of the house, that I should walk somewhere – without the car! Ooh, I don’t know if I could do that. I might drive over to the loch (about 500 yards away) and have a little wander further than the decorative part, away from the shops and benches.

 

It’s a problem, but I might solve it.

A DAY OF RAINBOWS

'Asthma never goes away,' I told him, 'Not if you don't use the medication to fight it - fresh air isn't going to do it Musician.'

 

I switched off from his ideas, not wanting to hear the feeble answers for neglect. Thank God the doctor gave him a bollicking, and kept him in; that was a first, along with the canula in his hand; that little tap on his blood. He complained about it, and the time we'd had to wait. I shouldn't still have to be this mother, to a thirty year old man. Why don't I have a son who can cope with his own small space in the world? Another fault of mine, I supposed.

 

Now I had to pick up more medication for him from ward 20, on my way to work. He was knackered, he said, and sleeping the whole incident off because they'd woke him every half hour to take his blood pressure, then took him for a chest x-ray at 5am! Not once did he ask how I was, driving home at 3am last night.

 

And down came the rain - in torrents, behind the sun. I had to switch the wipers to insane! Motorways are dangerous places when there's water thrown about but driving over fly-overs through rainbows is worth every moment of near-death collision. They arrived in front of me, one after another, strong bands of colour being born right before my eyes; I'd never seen anything like it in this city before. God was making me jump through hoops - well, drive, but still an effort.

 

Everywhere I turned, a rainbow waited for me - even as I parked at the hospital. This is a sign, I thought. I'm too good to go on strike, to refuse to be a mother to my son, even if he was fifty! So maybe this is his turning point too; it might be his day, his epiphany - even if he is sound asleep in his dusty flat with his loose-haired cat.

MEETING UP WITH ORACLE

I had lunch with Oracle today – well it was really a kind of early supper. We love to sit in Peckham’s and graze a cheese board once a month, with an assortment of drinks; latte, Earl Grey, water, pear cider, coke. Fabulous way to sift through a very late afternoon, though now the clocks have changed, it was dark when we left.

 ‘Ooh, I’m out in the city in the dark!’ I said.

 

He had a new toy, which he showed off; we poured over this beautifully flat and smooth iPod Touch. Oh I just love it. At the moment I carry around five or six books in my work bag; with this wonderful little thing I wouldn’t need any at all – it has access to hundreds of books you can download and either read off its big screen or listen to. Wow! is all I can say. Actually that’s not right, because what I said was…

 

 ‘Hello lovely daughter (in a text message), Mummy wants an iPod Touch from Santa asap. Please.’ I know she’s getting her first big wage this week, because of the promotion, so I’m getting an early Christmas present. Now that is wonderful!

 

All these free aps, including newspapers, notebook, astrology, iChing, Google Earth and loads more. It catches free wifi and just clicks onto it, so you can send emails, blog, do Facebook and Bebo etc. what really attracts me is the books and writing; I should be able to upload some of my work and edit it; or I can write as much as I like and it’s already typed in, isn’t it? I do love my notebooks but I hate having to type it up, so don’t tend to write a lot in them – just notes really, or little pieces of inspiration.

 

So, a stimulating day was had and I sat musing on it and the iPod Touch during the 40 minute train journey; thinking of all the things I could have done to entertain myself with the lovely contraption.

 

WHO ARE WE?

I’ve just joined another writing site – oh yes I did. Some of my online friends from another site are there but under different names. I know that they belong to lots of other places, but wonder how they remember who they are? I can’t depend on my memory remembering who I am at any one time so must be consistent; there will only ever be ireneintheworld for me from now on. I have loads of old email addresses lying around in the ether, and domain names I’ve long forgotten; and MySpace places etc.

 

God, I come across pieces in my notebooks and stagger back in surprise, saying, ‘Did I write that?’ Of course I bloody-well did; who else? How come I don’t remember writing that stuff? The other day I found a whole poem about the Erskine Bridge suicides; it had six or seven verses and I couldn’t remember a word of it. Is this it? Should I be getting myself checked for Alzheimer’s? Mind you, they’d have to think up different questions for me because I haven’t read newspapers or listened to the news for years, so I never know what’s going on in the world – or the name of the prime minister. I don’t know why or how Steven Gately died.

 

I drove across the Erskine bridge that Monday morning, on my way to work, completely unaware that two young teenage girls had joined hands and jumped together, into the cold, dark river, only ten hours earlier. People at work were talking about it so when I drove over after work I felt the emotion rise within me for those poor souls who couldn’t think of another way out. 14 and 15 years old; how tragic is that? Now I’ve got myself upset just thinking about it again; how two girls that age could even contemplate leaping 120 feet, into a dark river.

 

Who we are is important and I’m very happy to stick with ireneintheworld now because she is who I am. I spent a lot years, lost in the wilderness; drinking in a raunchy life; experimenting in further education and creative possibilities; but I know that I’m lucky to have survived all the confusion and desperate moments so offer up prayers to whoever helped me. I am grateful.

BACK IN THE SADDLE - Maybe

Well, I have really lived up to my title here as only Sometimes Functional but I am Present now. Long time since I’ve blogged; I’ve been forced to lie down and worship the big silver box, and my sofa was just sooooo comfortable – I don’t think I’ll ever have to buy a new one. But, I’ve slapped the box off and have taken to my bed – no, not with the vapours, with the laptop…but, I’m still the procrastinator, messing about on chatty writing sites but I am writing poetry. So that’s all right then.

 

Spent my whole day off, Wednesday, lounging in this freshly-made bed, writing fresh poems, then decided about half-past-nine to pop over to the local shop for chocolate – it closes at ten. So imagine the whirl to get some kind of dressed to walk the twenty-five yards. God, I felt light-headed, on strange legs.

 

I almost sailed around that shop, musing on bargains, with a black bra hanging from the fringes of my bag! As I’d left, I felt my bag tug, and thought I’d caught the fringe in the door but was free to carry on. When I arrived back, with my bags of fun-size chockies, I noticed something black lying on the doorstep. I couldn’t believe my luck to see this bra actually jammed in the door; imagine it swinging around me, hooked from my bag – I would only have noticed it when I came to pay, with a queue of people looking on behind me!

 

This could be a new phase in my life, where I return to blogging and work on the writing more, but it might only be a fluke – time will tell. November is National Novel Writing Month so I’ll be battering away at that and, hopefully, finish the novel! We’ll see.

FREE

Oooh I've been away from this way of life for too long - think I've lost my blogging mojo! Once you get out of the habit you're kind of lost. I'm afraid I've been imprisoned by a mad sofa; it's green and very generous, soft with good spring. Actually there are two of them but the big one is the worst; it's a bully and yells at me from the minute I open my eyes - I hardly have time to get a cup of tea!

So I'm here now - what do you want to talk about? Have I finished the novel yet? Are you mad? Every time I desert the sofa and sit at the table with Lovely Laptop I end up in tidying mode or re-size photos for the web mode ... then post them on Bebo mode; or find all printed poems, put them in some kind of order - stuff them in a display book - no make that two display books; one for the published and one for everything in general. And then there's the finding old literary magazines that still stink of the fire and type my old published work into the laptop; this is not the path that leads to the end of the novel.

Today is my birthday. I might be turning over a new and more useful life - I might not...but let's be positive. This is the new 55yr old me. I think I can get some kind of cheap train travel; I was offered it eighteen months ago when buying a ticket to Aberdeen to visit Carrie...so now I really am an almost completely white-haired old lady, it's time to act like one and get the freebies - roll on the pension years and my free bus pass!

A FEW PEBBLES

1

This Lilly is a long-boned woman with legs like skewers and empty breasts lying on the furrows of ribs. Her smile comes from an old heart, strong beyond reason. She smiles at laughing visitors who kiss, kiss, kiss, planting babies in her lap and presents on the bed. She tells them that she’s had lunch, but the menu escapes her; food appears like magic - chicken is fish, porridge is soup and everything is beautiful.

2

Accents arch and murmur through the carriage.

Hills, studded with pylons clamber

over us and craggy Huddersfield snuggles

into this lost Thursday. Manchester recalls

dead people from my past and the child

conceived there on a living room carpet.

3

In Madrid, I stood

Alive, before Guernika

A LITTLE CULTURE ON THE WEEKEND

Isn't it wonderful that you can just whip out your phone and snap away when the whim takes you? Sylvia and I wandered around The Art Galleries at Kelvinhall on Monday but this is all that impressed me to photograph. These are our feet in an installation.


She is just beautiful and in the perfect setting. And the ship is actually silver but I love the gold sheen here.


The masks are too scary for Sylvia but I love them.

WEEKENDING

Ooooh, it’s great to get back to normal; I’ve had visitors for the weekend so that means no TV and not much of the horizontal on my sofa – quite the opposite in fact. There were FOUR days of walking, tramping around and now I’m knackered. How lovely is today? Today has been all horizontal in front of the goggle-box; it was raining all morning anyway so not the kind of day to stretch legs or anything physical.

Visitors also meant preparation; I didn’t go at it with the same vitality as most people – I only did what was absolutely necessary. I purposely didn’t dust the top of the cabinet in the living room and have photographic evidence – there are still no carpets down so it is dusty here…well that’s my excuse:

I had a brilliant time and we laughed till we were sick! All those stories from schooldays and childhood; ex-husbands and lovers; drunken sprees, events and traumas; we didn’t need entertainment; there was no background music, no movies, no comedy except what burst from our mouths. Isn’t life grand?

But it’s so great to be alone again, back in hermit mode though I have made myself a few promises to leave the flat sometimes and walk a little, but I needed today to rest.