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Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Catching Up

Catching Up

Hi, all you lovely friends and readers, I thought I'd write a catch up.

Life has been a bit busy the last couple of months, which has left very little time to write. I've managed a few pieces but  do feel I need some mental space to think and ponder and get the creative juices flowing - or is this how it is? Do all writers have to chain themselves to their desks (real or imagined) and just get on with it, just work hard and something will happen?
I have yet to try the disciplined approach. I mean some writers sit at their desks for a certain number of hours a day. Others complete a pre- decided number of words or pages, every day.  Maybe this is where I fall down.
With me, it's more like I have to find some time to write or I'll go mad. It's not even that I have a great deal to say, I just have to write.
I feel a bit like that now and that is why I am just babbling on. I'll feel better then ( does this sound like addiction??) and be able to get on with real life. After all the washing still needs doing, the bins need putting out , food needs to be bought and cooked etc etc ....

Anyway, we have been in our new house now for six weeks and have been busy getting everything as we want it. We are eagerly waiting for the delivery of a cabin for the garden, which will be a studio for the artist in our midst. Currently all the art paraphernalia is taking over a room in the house. So I can't wait for the cabin to be ready. We are also waiting to hear if we can have a drop-kerb so that we can drive our newish car onto the drive.

Another drama that has kept us busy is the birth of a dear grandaughter a good few weeks earlier than she was due. They are all well, thank God, but it has been an anxious month or so. Much anguish was felt by all. She was ( still is) so small. Baby and mum are now getting out a little bit , which is a sign that things are going in the right direction.

And then, my own mum has been unwell which has been somewhat of a distraction. The good thing about this is that I've had the chance to visit her more and in so doing have connected not only with her but with my dad and my two lovely sisters.

And in amongst  all this there is the usual coming and going with children and grandchildren as the days just keep passing. For instance a couple of weeks ago we helped our eldest daughter move house.

Must go now...

Do get in touch and give me your thoughts...


Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Tudor House

Tudor House.

Tudor House, you sit In the heart of Canterbury,
Within the city walls, Part of it's history since the 16th century.
You look out,
Your window boxes overflowing -blues- whites - purples-
Your upper half hanging, leaning,
Over the narrow, cobbled, dusty street.
Your door - only five feet high-people were short in former times.
Now a bed and breakfast, your period features,
Invite the traveler, the visitor,
To stay.
With the Cathedral you share a past.
But today,
Today a mother walks by, not giving you a second glance,
Her baby  in a buggy, Hurrying - somewhere.
A woman passes, laden with shopping in
Marks and Spencer's bags.
A group of young folk - students maybe-
Not interested in the Museum, stroll by, smoking,
Carry drinks in bottles-chat busily.
Two bicycles- there are many in the city-
Pass  your front.
And you,
Tudor House,
You, look on,
Telling your own story.


Beijing

Beijing

After breakfast at the Hotel Continental,
The orange juice cool, pure,
We venture out,
Arm in arm-
For safety-
Into bustling, dusty, streets.
A tsunami of noise hits us,
Makes us draw back.
Traffic - six lanes-
Hooting horns screeching-
Engines revving-
Making music with 
Constant tinkling of bells 
From the bikes 
As they weave through 
Disinterested people,
Who, like squawking seagulls,
Swarm along overflowing pavements.

First impressions of Beijing...

Like debris we are swept unwillingly
In this fast flowing river.
We look up
High rise, anonymous
Dirty, grey structures,
Imprison ants 
Whose hope is 
A fleck of blue
Remembered.
Beside us as we hurry by,
Shops selling 
Tea, fans, chinese hats,
Beckon us,
Aromatic bouquets excite our nostrils.
Finally,
In a side street,
We take a rest,
In a Japanese Cafe.
They tell us:
"Don't eat the food here,
It's mostly dog"
We sip a beer 
And ponder
How we'll get back to the hotel.