Poetry

Right now I am in the middle of a very exciting and busy phase of my professional development.

I am working long and hard and am spending alot of time in a small office , or having intense conversations and trying to prove myself.

I am giving alot of me to others. I am not giving enough of me to my darling family and am pretty much ignoring myself.

I don't mind this too much as this will soon pass and it's all part of a journey I have chosen to undergo.

Still, it occurred to me yesterday.

There needs to be more poetry in this world.

The kite

The wind blasted the south. The last of the autumn leaves scattered to the four winds, scattered in an extremely fast and violent manner.

The man found a few stolen hours in the middle of a week, he found a glorious blue sky and a kite.

When you fly a kite you look skywards, the crick in your neck feels like hope, nobody can fly a kite by looking at the ground.

When you fly a kite you have to negotiate with the wind, the very strong wind. The sort of day that many people would rather be inside out of the blastzone finds you hanging onto your kite as it wheels and dives and climbs and hovers. You negotiate, you try to negotiate, but you know all too well that the wind will always have you. Have you and beat you.

The man found a field, nothing too special, on the edge of town, but once the kite was airborne, the place was transformed.

Dog walkers hurried past, picking up their shit, saying hello and letting their animals sniff each other's backsides.

Some of them noticed the kite, some of them may have thought "What a wanker, flying a kite". Some of them may have thought "Wow, a kite, I haven't seen a kite in years." They look skyward for a moment, then they return to picking up shit.

It was a stolen moment, those are the best.

Catch a breath...

... we're potty training the wee hen.

It's only Monday but it's already turning into a very long week.
Every twenty minutes the bell goes and we clap our hands and dance and sing "IT'S POTTY TIME!!!"
Then one of us joins him in the loo with a massive Richard Scarry book whilst he does whatever he decides to do.

Mostly he joins in the routine, sometimes he does not.

It's one way to pass the day.

There has been bribery.

Rain stopped play?

The Clement Attlee Junior School old boys XI have called upon my services.

It's been raining for three days straight.

I'm dressed in whites and am about to play up and play the game.

The sun is theatening an appearance before 3pm (when a decision will be made).

I've even got hold of a raspberry victoria sponge cake.

The old boy (girl) network

In my last sailing related post I mentioned my search for erstwhile sailing chum of old, Mr Turner.

As I opened my email inbox this lunchtime I noticed an email from Emily Fabpants. As usual it was an absolute pleasure to get such an email (not least because she'd included some delightful photos of Hickling, her broad one of which I have reproduced here. Along with these pics she'd also included Mr Turner's email address! (our friendship predates email and we would always just catch up with everyone each spring as we were fitting out for a new year of sailing).

Hippy art work.

And to think I thought my last school had all the brilliantly eccentric parents.

Update, bollards and library books.

Right, I'm off out in a moment so I thought I'd share a few snippets of the daily grind.

1. It's getting cold and windy. This is better than cold and wet and definately better than cold and snowy.

2. I've been directing the Y5/6 Christmas performance. It's a Karmic revenge for my uncontrolled mirth when I found out that Listmaker would have to direct a school performance in the spring. I have grumpy Angels who shove each other all over the stage, shepherds who blissfully ignore everything that goes on around them, the campest roman soldiers you'll see this side of the West End and an absentee Joseph which leaves single mum Mary toting the lil baby Jesus all over ancient Palestine in search of an inn. Oh, did I mention the Inkeepers? They sing the opening number and reject the pleas of the Holy Mother in search of a resting place. They relish their singing and their rejection of Mary. Everyone ignores the lil baby Jesus as they compete to be the most singingest/dancingest members of the cast. The Three Wise Men are superb. Looking at the stage it's clear that all the talent is on the right and all the animals are on the left. The Angels are still grumpy and shovey.

3. Bollards have been erected in my access road. I thought this was the work of a neighbour but have since discovered that the County Council have done this. I will post in much greater detail on this matter.

4. I've discovered the joy of internet library use. You log in, search the catalogue and in a few days an email appears which tells you your selection has been delivered to your local branch! All for 55p a reservation. Coolio!

But there's also this...

...when it's not misty and damp or dark it can be alarmingly crisp and bright and sunny!

Free spuds for life!

After months of patient waiting the Silver Fox finally has his allotment!

Here he is weeding the plot on the edge of Hometown.

This should mean that we will soon be treated to homegrown organic vegetables fresh from the soil.

In order to create the best possible growing environment we will need to remove the stones that litter the soil. I recommend employing the walking grandchildren to spend an hour or so picking stones and placing them into buckets. Of course knowing the particular grandchildren they would probably unionise themselves and demand something called 'an honest wage'.

Huh.