Tag: humour

Day 19 – Going on

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Writing into Life

Photo by Vadim Bocharov on Pexels.com

After yesterday’s full-on day at the races, I was up at 7.45 this morning to take Lydia for a walk and then go on to a poetry group meeting.

This may not seem anything to write about, except that for me it is.  Just a few months ago I wouldn’t have been able to cope with the day at the races, with all it entailed, and it was a struggle to make myself go to a poetry group meeting once a month.

I know full well that I wasn’t the ‘life and soul of the party’ yesterday, but I held up pretty well, and today I was able to take an active part in the meeting, albeit in a low-key way.

There were ten of us there and, those of us who chose to, read out poems that we had written.

One of the poems presented by the organiser, another Maggie, was about poetry with the heading of ‘Trifle’.  It was a very clever and interesting poem, drawing on her own experiences.

I read out three of my poems:

Ambitions

Gleeful
Wild
Outrageous
Contagious

Cheerful
Fearful
Respectful
Disrespectful
Full

Mad
Sad
Glad

Cook
Read a Book
Make Tea

Dance
Romance
Work
Shirk

Naughty
Nosy
Silly
Me.

I first wrote that poem in 2000 and revised it in 2020.  The ambitions still apply, and I’m still working on achieving them.

Now

Now
at the Pinnacle
14-and-a-half per cent
proof point of my existence
I’ve reached the Nottage Hill
sub-station of my life
I haven’t got a Sauvignon Blanc’s clue
about what to do next
other than to ‘méthode-champenoise’
my way through and hope
that if the cork crumbles
the bottle won’t be blue
and the sieve will be fine
so that
just for now
I can at least
drink the wine

I can’t remember when I wrote that poem but it still applies, now.

The Beat Goes On

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
The beat goes on
The beat goes on

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
The lights are dim
The lights are dim

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
The night is young
The night is young

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
My body moves
My body moves

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
My arm aches
My arm aches

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
The air bed’s inflated
I’ve had enough.

That’s another one that was written over a quarter of a century ago, based on an experience of being marooned on a remote Scottish island, waiting for the weather to settle so that the ferry could come and pick us up. It was a wild night, and we had a bit of fun while we were waiting.

The theme for the meeting this morning was ‘something funny’ so I think I contributed some pieces that were at least mildly amusing.

We’re a mixed group and one person read out her first ever poem at the meeting today. 

It’s good to be part of this group.  And the beat goes on. 

Day 27

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Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

There were eight of us at the poetry group meeting this morning.

I hadn’t had breakfast before I went but I felt nourished by the nature of the group, sharing words that we’d prepared and formed in whatever ways we wanted to.

On the way home, needing food for body as well as soul, I bought buns and vanilla slices for me and Trev.

I then headed out again for the Open Day at the kennels that I take Lydia to when we’re away.

The kennels have a rescue and rehoming facility as well as the business side, so I like to support them in whatever way that I can. There were plenty of other people there to support them too.

Lydia and I had a rest together this afternoon. The importance of rest is a lesson that I’ve been learning only recently. Sometimes, the time and circumstances just have to be right.

Van Gogh featured in the discussion at the poetry group. He struggled to rest, with all the complex thoughts and influences going on in his mind, channelling his energies through paint. Quite how he found the focus for this I don’t know, in the time and circumstances that he lived in. But he did.

The theme for next month’s meeting was agreed and set as “something funny”.

I’m looking forward to thinking and writing about something funny. It’s time I had a good laugh. I’ve had to work hard and dig deep to turn my life around through decades of difficulties and distress.  Now is the time to start having fun.

Day 16

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Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

After taking Lydia on our woodland walk this morning, I visited a friend in the village this afternoon.

We met through a befriending service and it feels like one of the best things I’ve done since I retired from doing paid work a few years ago. 

The service sets clear parameters, which means that I visit once a week for two hours a week. This has been good for me as I’ve had a lot going on in my life and I tend to try and do too much. 

The friend who I visit has dementia. She forgets things, struggles to concentrate and has lost a lot of confidence.  She has also lost through death the people who have been dearest to her in her life.  I’m not a counsellor, nor a carer, but I do try to reassure her and rebuild her confidence.

We usually have a few laughs when we’re together; she’s got a great sense of humour and a very kind heart.  It was lovely today to see her little cat cuddling up to her. It was like the cat wanted her to know how much she loves her.  That was how I saw it, anyway, and I told her so.

Coming home, and having not had any lunch, I ate a large bowl of salad greens that another friend has given me, freshly grown by her.  With some ‘French’ dressing – made from grain mustard, Italian olive oil, balsamic vinegar and a sprinkle of brown sugar – they tasted delicious.  A healthy snack to top-off a lovely afternoon. Even better – my partner is making us humous for tea.

Lydia is lying quietly by the open back door – she’s been outside again most of the day. She’s not in any hurry for her tea and neither am I. We can relax and enjoy some ‘Maggie and Lydi time’ too.