Who We Are - and other Mysteries.

I've never composed a blog post on my phone before. The kids have run off with all computing hardware, so I'm giving this method a try.

It's almost the shortest day of the year. I'm slowly emerging from one of my regular 2-day migraines and I'm drawn to the light, even if it is a weak daylight; daylight with a hint of murk, like the water we  dipped paint brushes into at school.

I try to urge the screen-addicted youngsters into the garden.

'Why dont we feed the fish?' I ask. Too brightly.

'THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO WE ARE!' replies the daughter.

A few years ago, I wrote this poem, after seeing my son in the school nativity play.  It's short. A bonus for many.

 

So, here we are then,  post election madness in the middle of a Climate Emergency.  This is my cartoon of the year:

But we have friends. We have each other.  From the fish in the pond, the magpies on the bare branches and the stars in the sky, it goes without saying, I hope there is peace at Christmas, especially for those who need it most. 

What The Record-buying Public Need to Know

Dear Reader, you find me, demi-reclining on a duvet day. I shall not be ashamed of my duvet day. Indeed, we all need recuperation.

What the record-buying public need to know, is that behind every great drummer, there's a great wuman who looks after the kids. Unsung. You see, I'm not trying to blow my own trumpet here, but the trumpets of every darn man or woman who is the home-maker, the ones who do the crucial, but less celebrated, domestic dance.

Tess's drawing of flowers

Teenage Fanclub have been recording in Hamburg all week and I am worn out with general child-care and menopausey-nonsense (it's a medical term). 

I have also sacrificed a trip to the Basque Country (wearing a Basque is still optional, if I weren't so knackered). This weekend, the lovely Rachel Newton will be reading out my poems and playing her harp with native, 'cool-chick' Uxue Alberdi.

It was lovely to be invited, but I  feel torn and conflicted about the environmental cost of flying, and it's a long way on a train, when your man is drumming in Hamburg. I wish the festival luck and look forward to seeing photos.

Meanwhile, the kids and I survive by watching Glee on Netflix. I am not in the least ashamed of this either. It is fabulous, jazz-hands escapism. 

Afterwards, the kids asked me to name a few Elton John songs.

'Sorry seems to be the hardest word.'

Tess replied, in utter sincerity  -'What?! Surely pharmacist or acquaintance are the hardest words?' Spelling homework is going well then. 

Ah well, the December sun is falling fast. Next stop, school pick up. May your duvets be warm and wide, when you need them.