I had to pinchmy nose The aroma was unpleasant Tocsin rang in my head Had it been a cooking contest Someone would have failed I push forward, topple, crestfallen Leaning against the fence Wondering why she left me. I feel my mind on the edge of insanity What could I have done so wrong? I hear the wind whistle Reminding me of her smile I lick my lips in anticipation Of a kiss that never comes. In my weakness, I let my mind Pile on the misery Thinking of her warm body against mine on a cold night There goes another pin In that small model of me Hidden in a dark wardrobe I hope they run out of pins soon…
I found myself watching this film with the family over the weekend and almost gave up on it, as I am not found of remakes or mash ups.
At first, I thought someone had been playing around with some idea of artistic licence, distorting the original story. Usually this means it will bear little if any resemblance to the classic fairy-tale.
What I didn’t realise, was that they had been doing that, but with two well-known classics, Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland.
The cast of Come Away seemed to be a bit of an experiment too, and the more I watched, the more I wished I were somewhere else. Watching Angelina Jolie’s face, I had the feeling she did too.
In all fairness to the producer, the storyline isn’t bad, if a little predictable, but the lack of any decent magic was unfortunate, if inexcusable.
There was the occasional light sprinkling of fairy dust, but this does not a fairy-tale make. Tinkerbell was actually represented by a tiny golden bell. Need I say more?
A disappointingly tragic story that I am sorry I watched…
Standing on the rainy train station A row of pigeons sit silently watching her Worn out suitcase by her feet I could hear the distant rumble of the train Soon she would be gone Her gold fingernails flashed As though caught in sunlight. I raise my glass of wine Part of me knows I cannot sign the contract that would keep me here. She is my force majeure. She takes the train to Eastbourne. I leave my friend holding out his pen I cannot do it, Don. I have to rush I must follow her. I spend the journey wondering how I would approach her Do we ever know if the decisions we make Are in our own best interests? The unsigned contract might come back to bite me One thing I do know, she is the girl I will marry The rest I leave to the universe…
I remember when I had wings Before Earth became my home When days were young I had not yet leaned that time is my enemy A parasite, my own personal stalker Stealing moments of my life Memories slipping away Turning my steps slower Empty space in mind Filled with strange thoughts That do not belong to me. I feel I have twinned with another mind Maybe one day, they might tell me who they are I have learned many things in my latter years That I never thought to put to mind Mind, like an empty room Has space for so much more Why did I not know this when I was young When time was still on my side? I feel like a greedy child There is never enough of the things you like The heart and mind, wanting more Wandering from place to place Still looking for that special something That eureka moment that tells you nothing really matters All thoughts turn to dust Only the moment holds the charm of life…
This is the time of year when I cringe every time I open the freezer.
All that ice that has been slowly growing since the last time I hacked and removed the last lot. We have a Hotpoint fridge freezer, which I love, but do wish it had separate temperature controls, and separate auto defrost too, for I never have to worry about the fridge, it takes care of itself very nicely. But the freezer must have cousins in Antarctica, as its always trying to create an igloo in my kitchen.
So, today I have decided that the ice has to go, and I have developed a very clever way (at least I think so) of organising the frozen food while the power is off.
Even with the best will in the world, you can never run a freezer down to nothing, can you? And I won’t simply bin everything, just to make my life easier. So, the night before the ordeal, I root out those ice packs that you can freeze to put inside picnic boxes and stuff them in the freezer overnight.
The next morning, I simply pack all the frozen food into the (by now) empty salad bins at the bottom of the fridge, suitable laced with the ice packs, and remove all the trays from the freezer. I do use one of those de icer sprays, and it works fine, apart from the roof of the freezer. That ice is something else.
My trick for this awkward and time-consuming problem, is to find a container, a washing up bowl or baking dish that will slide on to the top shelf. Fill it up with boiling water, shove it in and wait to hear all that ice cracking. This avoids having to stand on your head to hack at the ice!
Over the years, I have discovered that if I take no longer than one hour removing all the ice, the food in the fridge will be fine, barely a change in the temperature (thanks to all my ice packs)
As I said at the beginning, this is a job I hate doing and usually put it off, but when it is done and everything safely back where it belongs, I do feel a little smug at a job well done…
For visually challenged writers, the image shows a stone stairwell with an opening obscured by a bright light.
I could see the shadow of a man In the light at the top of the stairs Calling me to him My name echoing soft inside my mind I could not move Fear held me at the bottom In the dark where I felt safe I wanted the light to go away The voice to be silent I am not ready to walk towards the light Yet my name had been called The fear surrounded me grew stronger…
Can you wrap your body In another man’s shadow? Walk in his footsteps, Eventually taking over his life. Can you walk through London, New York, Tokyo, Moscow? Wondering what to do with the fourteen minutes to the hour that they have in common. What can you find out about yourself In such short a time? Does the completed hour Connect them in some unknown way? London would be ten o clock New York five o clock Tokyo seven o clock Moscow one o clock On the surface, it would appear not. Still, I wonder about the fourteen minutes between each city…
Another week of waiting for news, and the lines of communication were strangely silent, right up until yesterday afternoon. I had tried to convince myself that this could be a good sign, and in a way, it was. The letter that arrived, was a copy of the formal (and very technical) notification that was sent to our GP. After googling all the jargon, I figured out that one of Anita’s main arteries is almost completely blocked and would require either a stent or a surgical bypass. A phone call regarding the consultants intentions will follow, apparently.
The trouble with waiting, is that it sets the tone of the week somehow. Despite this, I was determined to do something constructive. Gardening or bonsai was out of the question, for every time I walked out the back door, the heavens opened. I don’t mind getting wet, but not if I don’t have to!
The next job was cleaning the carpets. Out came my trusty shampooer, only to find all the water that I poured in, ran straight out of the bottom in a hurry. I joggled everything but it was obviously broken, so I threw it in the bin.
Well, there are the windows to clean and a pile of sewing that seems to get bigger every time I leave the room. I could switch off the computer and write, or I could try to clear some outstanding annoyances. Seems to be the week for annoyances, so I decided to try to get rid of some. The biggest irk on my list, is trying to find out why some of my book reviews have been deleted. I mean, I didn’t have that many to start with! I had tried emailing Amazon with varying results and this morning I was informed that according to them, I had no such account with them. (turned out they were talking about a seller account)
When I double checked that I most certainly do have a working account on .com and uk.com, I noticed that my author central was missing from uk.com. It was large as life on Amazon.com though.
I think this is all because Anita and I share a computer. It seems to confuse the hell out of most of the companies we deal with. We have our own email address, but that doesn’t amount to a hill of beans, as almost everything we do is questioned and needs verification all the bloody time!
Of course, if anyone has any clues about any of this, they would be very welcome as I am a short step from binning anything that refuses to work!
The border has been closed against the poor The fire raged, echoing the sound of angry thoughts A child’s toy broken, rusting in the dirt-filled streets Card-carrying members of the human race Felt themselves safe under the darkening sky The risingsurprise in their eyes, clear as water The city has fallen, the days of effervescent joy, long gone It is bad form trying to walk out on a Sunday afternoon in your finery A slap in the face for those who never had the chance to dress in anything other than rags Will life return to normal?
The days are dragging by with no word from the hospital. They say that no news is supposed to be good news, but that’s not the over riding feeling in our house. Hopefully, it means there is nothing serious to report.
And just when I was sure life couldn’t get much worse, my arthritis decided to prove me wrong. It is always there, but usually nothing a few pain killers and analgesic cream can’t control. Over the weekend, it decided to test the waters, so to speak. I didn’t mention it, as I didn’t want to complain or worry everyone, but my sister’s eagle eyes miss nothing.
We have been lucky over the years, never managing to be out of commission at the same time, so if I wasn’t feeling bad enough already, every time the pain screwed my face up, I wished it were mandatory to wear a mask indoors!
We have always wondered which one of us will shuffle off first, and these days, I wouldn’t take any bets on it!