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A one woman protest againt the Natzi Coalition and Labour Oppostion (which constitutes no opposition whatsoever), the rise and rise of power of financial sector with ever declining moral or legal boundaries to stop that happening and blogger's complete understanding of shit happening far too often to those least able to handle it!!!!
ATOS(SER) ALERT
It's going to hurt you alot more than it will us
The Scrapheap Challenge
The reality tv show ....no tv necessary
About Me
- That's not my name!
- Manic Depressive....but you may be disappointed to read that I am not performing a one woman show on how I recovered and became a cult celebrity. So WTF!
I do hope not getting pretty fed up of skating my boy to nursery. And does nothing for anxiety of leaving house to have an excuse not to. Take Care. x
ReplyDeleteDitto Lareve
ReplyDeleteI am going to brave the town today. Cabin Fever has got to me and I need to jump ship. Hope Taxis are still running.
You take care there too and hope anxieties ease for you soon (although so much easier to say than often do :>) x
the snow fell silently as we slept soundly under the snoring moon and warm blankie
ReplyDeleteand in the morning as the snow still slanted sideways across the framed white quilt of the garden
we were all eyes at the window
wide faced with excitement
cooing at the y shaped indentations of birds feet wibbling across the kitchen roof
beneath us
intrigued that even the telephone line was top coated
as we gazed down at the brilliant polystyrene-like world of the garden
the outline depression of the path
the washing line a snowy antler
a cool white insulated world that beckoned us to step out and make our own crisp virgin impressions ,
the only visible colour against the white morning glare
the dazzling bright orange half smile of the neglected spacehopper
now wearing a cocky snowy beret
at the top left hand corner of the garden
but to be fair
those were days when neglect of the inanimate
amounted to no more than a couple of days.
'we shall go sledging' i said
and we did.
the local park gates drew us into our own frozen narnia
we sledged down the steep length of priory hill on plastic milk crates, cardboard boxes and our cold bare bottoms
we small few and back then forever friends
warm, huddled , scarved and laughing
hurtling downwards through the deft wet white deep snow
shwishing over it
the laughter falling out of us
as we rode the thrill
to a sudden frozen stop or a hilarious tumble of limbs .
but then the parkie showed up
and lectured us on health and safety
and pointed an icicled finger towards the gate
which after we filed out
he made a grand gesture of locking behind us with thick iron chains
his sternness driving us home.
overnight the moon cried snow
and wept incessantly
until it gathered up under its shining chin
and in the morning the impressions of the birdsfeet were even more pronounced across the deep snow on the kitchen roof
like the pinched fabric around the buttons of our sofa
and the spacehopper's grin was now a half buried lopsided frown
and we all felt scrunched down
coldly oppressed
trapped indoors with the stifling paper dry dusty heat from the radiators and dreary afternoon mothers talk from the radio
wearying through the pages of picture books we could no longer concentrate on
staring back at slow tail wagging pets as angry as we were .
that evening the snow radiantly kept the night at bay
heaping up in protest
until at last the blood screamed in our veins and prompted action and we slunk out with the grownups in hand
and headed for the park.
gillian's dad unceremoniously broke the heavy padlock on the park gates and threw them open
and we all rushed on our little legs through the deep snow up priory hill
we small few and back then forever friends
warm, huddled , scarved and laughing
hurtling downwards through the deft wet white deep snow
shwishing over it
the laughter falling out of us
as we rode the thrill
to a sudden frozen stop or a hilarious tumble of limbs .
but then the parkie showed up
or rather mark's dad found him
huddled on a bench by the snow draped bandstand
arms raised as if directing the music of the universe
the cold blast of the brass section
his teeth set against the world
tears of authority frozen on his cheeks.
Anon
ReplyDeleteAm in awe....and sorrowful about a childhood I can barely remember.
'Wibbling across the kitchen roof'...just love it :>)
Children really should have a childhood and one worth having. That is a mammoth statement for me to make (personal circumstances taken into consideration) but the only child in me still hankers for the missing years..the comfort of being with a peer group I can make sandcastles with simply because making sandcastles is a fun thing to do.
In fact, I would be happy now to be sitting in a playroom and making sandcastles with other children.and yep Health and Safety and Peado alarm bells ringing all round would excempt me but I can still want to do that just for the pleasure of innocent play. To recapture what seems now, forever lost to me.
The sheer drudgery of existance and fighting for the existance (and hopefully something a bit better) of another... I fear...has robbed me of many things.
Maybe they will return...maybe I will have time to nurture myself and with support of those who truly understand what that means in an empathetic, rather than dogmatic and policy-drenched way.
Certainly...my winter has lasted far too long and I can't wait to walk out in the sun. Is what I dream of and what I want to work to (without some god forsaken target/deadline/tick box driven 'CARE' droid.
Certainly 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' is more akin to what I want than 'Love's Labours Lost'. Even if it was a one night only offer. lols
Thanks for sharing. I think your writing is fucking fab :>)
Mandy, been wondering/worrying about you. Hope things are ok. Dx
ReplyDelete