Soda Bread

21st January 2020

I have just read that chocolate ( the dark stuff mind) is good for us. The article tells me one square a day can be really  beneficial to my heart, to my mental health and to my brain among other things. Well, I'd like to know how much better two squares would be and would a whole bar add years to my life.
Ah, no, it's just the one little square that has the benefits . Any more could possibly be harmful.
I don't know about you, but I can't eat  just one square from a bar of chocolate. Much too much temptation involved.

Soda Bread

Warm soda bread sits

In the middle of the table, a round loaf,

a cross creased into it's middle.

The  familiar, sweet, smell, settles

Somewhere in our shared  history,

Buried like gold, In the mists of my memory.

Just Nan and I, bridging generations, 

her soft look wraps me in its love.

Between us the loaf waits on the bread board.

In a white china dish, the butter - kerrigold.

Nothing else would do. 

And a  pot of tea, brewing, under a knitted cosy,

which I knitted in green and red stripes, for her.

Milk too, full cream, fresh from the dairy, in the blue jug.

And a pot of Mrs O'Neil's Jam, made from her own blackcurrants.

Nan cuts the bread into two thick slices

I take one, a  sliver of my grandma

break it in half, place on my plate, gently

I carve wedges of butter into slender slabs 

 I spread each evenly right to the edges

And to finish , a smear of Jam

I watch nan do the same - It is our communion

What Noise

                                                8th Oct 2016

Thank you to all my loyal readers. Today the visits to my blog exceeded 22000. That is just amazing . Also, I'm so grateful for all the comments, so encouraging to read what people think of my random words. 

Well I did the park run this morning . Five kilometers of gasping for breath as I ran for ten seconds and walked for ten minutes, but, I wasn't last and now feel energised. I recommend  it to everyone.  

So, the following poem came about after I had to get up this morning at five thirty - I have to tell you, that is in the dark - so that I could take my husband to the station. And the rain just came down like a tsunami had disturbed the heavens . 

What is That Noise

What's that noise?

In the dark the flask is filled 

With tea there's no time to drink

 Now,

What is that noise?

Soda bread buttered and 

wrapped for later, there's no time to eat 

Now

That noise...

Hurry, pack your rucksack 

You have a train to catch

Out the door

Ahh, the noise

It's a downpour

Run to the car

It's not that far

But soaked we are

Early Risers

Something I found when trying to sort through my "stuff". The first a short piece about washing day
And then a bit of flash fiction - story in exactly 100 words. Hope you enjoy them...

Early Risers

5.0 a.m.- rise 

Fill copper  - Six buckets of water
 light fire under wash tub,

Add soap shavings- Sunlight Carbolic,

Breathe in fresh, clean scent,
Throw in a  bit of soda to prevent scum.

It's Monday - washing - the entire day.

New to me, being  used to the modern machine.

But mother-in-law's routine.

Whites in first - boil,

Open windows for steam to escape.

Next coloureds; 

Lastly work clothes - the grubbiest.

Wooden tub for hand scrubbing,

Washboard for more soiled items.

All laundry rinsed  - fed through rollers of mangle.

When all is finished,

A tired satisfaction...

No time for anything else.

Even dinner is cold meat from yesterday,

With bubble and squeak from Sunday leftovers.

Ironing

Keeping everything normal Sheila starts ironing. It is Tuesday, after all. She'd kept up the regimental routine her mother-in-law had instilled in her all those years ago. Each day had its particular job - Monday, washing day, Tuesday, Ironing, - a useful distraction on this significant day.
Automaton like, she picks up his shirt, the one she bought him last Christmas. She knew then that she would be here today. The iron sweeps backwards and forwards. Smiling, she plans how she will go to the the greenhouse later and dispose of his  body and his  mug containing the evidence.