Spud: How was your day? Get hit in the face with many pies?
Tilly: No; but I did have some toothpaste thrown into my ear.
Ah, yes. Church Holiday Club is upon us.
This weekend it’s the Heatons Arts Trail – a bunch of artists in Heaton Moor open their galleries and invite you to look around and, hopefully, buy their work.
Write Out Loud members are supporting the event by tweeting poems. I’ve written a cycle of 26 haiku – we call them ‘twaiku’ – about the individual artists, based on the information in the flyer. I’ll be honest – it’s not my greatest work; but it was fun to do.
I would say check me out at @laughwife and @heatonstwaiku but the first two twaiku I posted have not appeared. Not that I’m a technept or anything…
There’s just one annoying thing (no; not the Hub): I have had an earworm all week. I think ‘Heatons Twaiku’ and I hear ‘Eton Rifles’. What a Jam!
We had a solemn ceremony in this house on Sunday: the first traditional Passing of the Bag.
Tory Boy bought himself a good quality rucksack when he was at high school. By the time he’d finished college, Spud was at high school and needed a good quality rucksack. Tory Boy loaned Spud his, on the condition that it be returned someday. Six years on, that day was Sunday, as Spud had finished high school and Tory Boy was home.
Cue ceremonial music (Celine Dion’s My Bag Will Go On):
The two poetry books I told you about last week weren’t the only free things I’ve had lately. Feel free to read on.
Thanks to ShowFilmFirst, I got two free tickets to see a preview of Annie Get Your Gun at Manchester Opera House a couple of weeks ago. I took Spud, who has discovered a love of stage musicals since Godspell. Jason Donovan played Frank Butler. He was really good…except for the singing. His voice was weak, like he had a cold or something. I was disappointed. Despite that, we enjoyed the show, especially Emma Williams as Annie Oakley. When she told Frank she could do anything better than him, she wasn’t kidding – she sang the highest and then the longest note I have ever heard. When she finally let the note go, the whole audience sucked in a breath for her. Fabulous.
I have been absent from the blogosphere because I needed the time to catch up on poems – I have managed to edit, type, print and file 71 poems so far this month. I was aiming for one a day so I’m pretty pleased with myself. With another thirteen notebooks to work through and an average of thirty poems per notebook, I only have another 390 poems before I’m finished and will be back with you. See you in November!
Freedom to Boast
I have availed myself of this particular freedom ever since I beheld my first screaming baby. I honestly don’t understand parents who don’t boast about their kids. It’s hardwired to my genes.
Watch out, those of you who don’t understand me – here’s a boast coming up: Spud received a letter yesterday to say that he has won the school Drama Prize. We have to spend two hours of boredom on Speech Day in a fortnight’s time, for our ninety seconds of glory when he goes up to accept the award. Those 7,110 seconds of tedium will be worth it, believe me. I’m bursting with so much pride, I had to rescue my fat clothes from the charity bin.
I watched the story of Meriam Ibrahim unfold on the news. If you missed it, she was imprisoned and sentenced to death for refusing to renounce her Christian faith; and adultery because her Christian marriage was considered illegal. She was heavily pregnant at the time of her imprisonment and was chained to the floor to deliver her baby. It made me grateful that I live in a country where no one particularly cares which God I worship; or how.
More Free Time
Spud has finished his exams! His official, state-mandated schooling is over for ever. Congratulations, Spud, for surviving school and growing up into a well-rounded young man in spite of your helicopter parents. You’ll soon be free of us and able to paint your face blue and bare your bum without having it smacked. Enjoy university.
Click on the images to link to the source.
Click on the image for source
If you were one part human, two parts something else — another animal, a plant, an inanimate object — what would the other two parts be?
Before I started my weight loss programme (not a diet; I don’t do diets), I was one part human/two parts Maltesers. Now, I am mostly one part human/two parts hungry.
The Hub says I am one part human/two parts vampire i.e. sucked the life right out of him.
Scratch that, he didn’t say anything of the sort. But he did offer to slice me open to find out. Consider me one part grateful/two parts terrified.
Here’s a prompt response I found in my drafts folder:
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT! What’s your favorite way to spend Saturday night?
A movie, a large packet of cheese & onion crisps and a glass or three of JC Le Roux’s La Chanson.
I’m writing this post at seven-thirty on Saturday night, in bed with a hot water bottle. No, the Hub is not giving me the cold shoulder because I was mean about him one too many times (like there’s a limit…); I sneezed today and put out my back. The power of snot.
Talking of my favourite wine, Number One Son bought me a bottle for Mother’s Day. Then helped me drink it.
Now he’s Number Two Son.
Think about an object, an activity, or a cultural phenomenon you really don’t like. Now write a post (tongue in cheek or not — your call!) about why it’s the best thing ever.
Writing responses to WordPress prompts is the best thing ever because it allows me to make fun of the most off-the-wall people on the planet.
No, really. They are as much fun as dieting.
Your local electronics store has just started selling time machines, anywhere doors, and invisibility helmets. You can only afford one. Which of these do you buy, and why?
I think I’d buy the invisibility helmet. I like the idea of walking around scaring people when they see a headless body.
And think of how much weight loss that adds to my non-diet… No one can call me fathead any more!
The friendly, English-speaking extraterrestrial you run into outside your house is asking you to recommend the one book, movie, or song that explains what humans are all about. What do you pick?
Of course, it would be an alien that spoke to my headless body, wouldn’t it? Because it wouldn’t know I was weird.
And the book – as you regular readers must surely know – would have to be Ender’s Game, in which we earthlings kick some alien butt.
Damn aliens, coming over here and stealing all our humanity.
When you do something scary or stressful — bungee jumping, public speaking, etc. — do you prefer to be surrounded by friends or by strangers? Why?
I prefer to be safe in my bedroom, not jumping off or on to platforms, thank you very much.
You are all welcome to crowd in, of course; but I get the window side of the bed.
You’ve been given the superpower to change one law of nature. How do you use it?
Crisps and Maltesers would be one of my five-a-day.
Do you not know me at all, WordPress?
What’s the one guilty pleasure you have that’s so good, you no longer feel guilty about it?
Tormenting WordPress Prompters.
Oh, and breaking wind…there’s no smell, now I eat properly.
What? Nobody comes here for the dainty English refinement – you know that, right?
Click on image for source
Well I never! Or I should say, Beh io mai!
I signed in to my blog to visit all of yours, and discovered a comment which needed approval:
Thanks for your contribution.
Silvia Pio (editor)
That’s the same poem which was read at a memorial meeting for Nelson Mandela, and I learned of it after the event.
It seems it’s not just my kids who are going off having lives of their own.
By the way, I’m chuffed! I love the idea of my poem taking on a life of its own, making new friends, learning new languages. It has a way more interesting time than I do.
But at least it won’t break my heart when it moves into student accommodation in September.
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Her Bad Hare Days
A frustrated writer, who is her own worst enemy