Have you heard about them? Love's austere and lonely offices? You can read about them here in Robert Hayden's beautiful poem, Those Winter Sundays.
Likewise, this autumn, I find myself at The Coalface of Motherhood. I do not mind this. This is the place I need to be the most. It's in my bones. When I know this, it it makes it easier.
Drummer/partner/'husband'/The Calm One or Francis, as I sometimes refer to him, was away on tour drumming with Teenage Fanclub, while I 'manned' the coalface - pack lunches, lost gym shoes, asthma attacks (grim), school upsets, and all of the other challenges that bombard the weans.
And then, they say things like - Mummy, your fashion is quite bad, and why don't you dye your hair? What a boost. And here, praise for my cooking:
And then, they say things like - Mummy, your fashion is quite bad, and why don't you dye your hair? What a boost. And here, praise for my cooking:
My most luxurious point of every day was to fold into bed each night with brushed cotton sheets and a hot water bottle.
I haven't had time or space to write poetry. There's loads of 'housey' stuff to do, even when they are at school: cooking, cleaning, sorting, food shopping, changing electricity suppliers, trying to sort Netflix glitches (so kids won't erupt!) and all that modern world stuff.
(A voice in my head says, but I don't want to change electricity suppliers! while emails pop up to tell me I need to change to save £49 - otherwise I'm daft - and then, off I go on the capitalist merry-go-round. Remember when electricity was just electricity?)
Frankster is home now, so I can get out to see my Dad reading at the Mitchell Library as part of Book Week Scotland.
At the weekend, I am reading a couple of poems at a sold-out gig for a friend who is very bravely trying to raise money to fight her stage 4 cancer.
It puts everything in perspective. Claire is an amazing inspiration to many.
