To Raise Your Blood Pressure…

  • simply take a few news items from around the world
  • read the ‘witty’ and ‘informed’ comments below the said news items
  • scroll down through a Twitter storm
  • realise how lucky you are that you no longer look at Facebook (because the comments there are even uglier)
  • feel the hairs on the back of your neck rising when you recognise that people and countries that you thought were politically mature and sophisticated seem to be sleepwalking into situations you were desperate to leave behind once upon a time
  • breathe in, breathe out, tell yourself you are over-reacting
  • have far more deadlines and projects going on than one person with normal capabilities and normal working hours can accomplish
  • have tricky conversations all day at work
  • get stuck in rush hour delays
  • come home to lazy teenagers who ask ‘What’s for supper?’ but haven’t thought at all about clearing the table or buying milk
  • do not allow yourself be provoked by emails from your ex (i.e. do learn to swallow down all the clever retorts that he might then forward to his solicitor to use against you in court)
  • go out to buy tonic water to make yourself a G&T
  • realise it’s the third time this week you’ve been buying tonic water at the corner shop
  • worry about the amount of alcohol you are consuming
  • wonder if you could drink gin without the tonic
  • agree with your mother on the phone about what a failure your life has been and will be, how she told you so years ago if only you’d listened, and how much better the sons and daughters of her acquaintances are doing
  • oh, don’t forget to hmm-hmm and not answer back when she says about how much children of divorce suffer and how they are irretrievably damaged, she knows of approximately three such examples herself and can remind you of them repeatedly
  • feel guilty for making faces at the phone when you hold it a distance to escape the monotony
  • worry about your father’s health and whether you will have to care for your mother in her undoubtedly difficult old age, full of health problems and loneliness, for ‘age will not wither her… complaints’
  • accept that your children will probably not care for you in old age, although you’ve been a much kinder, more understanding and less demanding mother to them than yours has been to you
  • compose yet another letter for your French pension provider to try and figure out if you will have any pension rights there at all after Brexit
  • try to find an affordable smaller (but not too small) house in your area in case you have to sell the current one – although you have lost the will to move or even to decorate or do any home improvements, knowing that it will just be a stop-gap solution for 4-5 years and a total waste of money
  • make a list of To Do lists and watch the money go down, down, down in your account as you buy all the ‘back to school’ necessities
  • find out the cost of a barrister and watch your account being emptied even more
  • buy a book reviewed by a blogger friend to make you feel better
  • feel guilty about spending £9 on a book or £15 on a film or play, although saving that amount won’t actually help with the legal costs
  • drown your guilt in cake
  • wonder until what time the corner shop is open and if you can still nip over there for another cake and a tonic water

That’s just an average day: anything I’ve missed out?

‘Twas the Day…

… after we returned from the summer holidays and all through the house… cobwebs and dust bunnies were having a party. The washing-machine was churning at full pitch, the fridge had started humming but was bare and hungry. ‘Twas the weekend before school started, so lists were pinned up, checked and found wanting. Protractors had been bought and lost, felt-tip pens had become separated from their lids and were gasping for rehydration. School clothes and pencil cases begging to be legibly marked with the child’s name. Not for the first time, I wished we had given our children shorter names. Shoes had been miraculously outgrown during the holidays. Haircut appointments needed to be made. Telephone messages listened to, some of them requiring replies. Several bills had floated into our postbox and needed rather urgent payment. Above all, we needed food. But supermarkets on a Saturday are a nightmare. I braced myself for battle with wonky trolleys, careless people chatting in front of the aisles I needed to access, the endless queues at the cashier…

FlowerssmallI drag the shopping bags inside the house to find those two bouquets waiting for me. Soundlessly. Shyly. I wonder. I approach them gingerly. I see a little note: ‘Happy anniversary, darling!’ It’s the first time since we got married that I had completely forgotten our wedding anniversary. I thought forgetting was something that men did. Or at least my man. And, just as I call out, blushing, my family rushes downstairs in an avalanche of love. One bouquet, they explain amidst giggles and gurgles, was not enough – they could not agree which one was nicer: romantic or exotic. Finally, they decided that Mama was both.

Samuel Peralta is hosting at the dVerse Poets Pub (sadly, for the last time) and he has asked us for a prose poem. Not quite sure if this qualifies – I fear it’s more prose than poetry. But one celebration I haven’t forgotten is Chinese New Year: Happy Year of the Wooden Horse, everyone!

 

The News

 Lately

 I’ve been mired in bad news trickling ceaselessly, babbling brook,

of downgrades and bailouts, unemployment figures, austerity,

revisions of economic forecasts, shelling and bombing, rigged elections-

all the bitter poetry of our times.

 

You can handle it once.

You hunker down for the bad times, provisions laid, windows boarded,

when hurricane strikes you put your head down, hold hands with your family,

even like the enforced cosiness, the simplicity, the fear now shared.

But when storm after storm buffets your nest? When supplies run low,

And your hell becomes other people?  When temporary becomes fixture

And still there is no deeper change, no molecules reformed or restructured?

 

Just furtive squeeze made manifest.