And a short time was had by all…

Rather truncated evening at the ill-fated Pump and Tap in Leicester.  Present: Noel, Peter, Andy, Liz.

Apologies: Noel (for buggering off), Peter (for smoking)

Matters arising:  imminent destruction of a much-loved pub

All of this reminds me of IPAS.  What was IPAS? I hear you cry.  Well, IPAS was a loose collection of individuals led by Scoutmaster Bob.  I have written a short story about him which I am currently revising.  It all started in the pub with what I thought was a joke about setting up an India Pale Ale Society (a sort of reconstructed CAMRA) and before I knew what was going on Bob had produced an agenda, minutes and elections for officers, as well as turning up in a very nice woggle.  Bob was also very keen on buses.  I was familiar with train-spotters, but a bus-spotter (apart from one standing fed-up at a bus stop) was a new one on me.

We had a car this week, which has now gone back – consequently I was at the chalet every day.

Here’s a recent poem:

Onion

Peel placenta

nothing there

cup the stillness

fry the air

…..

Plans for the weekend:  Oh!  Don’t know if i told this joke before:

Mark was always banging on about barbers and how they used to offer all manner of dodgy surgical procedures, and how (in a much more controlled way) he would like to go back to this, and have them offer, say, vasectomies while you wait.

So I said, after the haircut the barber would turn to the customer and say:

Something for the rest of your life, sir?

You’ll probably only get that if you’re in Britain.  And maybe not even then

TTFN

Liz

That was the week that was…

Busy this week.  At library working in the day.  Have a collection of poems now which is all dressed up and has nowhere to go.  About half-way through a radio play about some people stuck in a lift – I’ve got the beginning and the end, just need about 20 mins in the middle.  Also getting on with the novel.

Hired a car for a week and will be working up at the chalet next week.  Teacher training tomorrow.

Had a brilliant afternoon at Regent College discussing Holly’s options.  They were great!  Very positive about Home Ed and trying to work with us.  If all goes well Holly will be applying there.  So great to meet some people who are flexible, interested in you and not in making you jump through hoops.

A very positive experience.

Also, breakfast at Tomatoes this morning, a sort of church cafe with newspapers, cooked breakfast (including veggie), live music and chat.  Great!

Stay cool.  Have a good week.

TTFN

Update

Hi all

Settling into a pattern of being back at weekends and in the woods Mon – Fri.  It seems to be working well.  Writing-wise, I have written a number of poems and planning for the novel is continuing.  The working title is “Knots”, which refers to a number of things, mainly the knots the characters tie themselves in and which form the pattern of their relationships.  I have done a big diagram of all the characters and how they relate to each other and it does resemble a huge knot.

At the weekends I am trying to lick Holly into some sort of shape so that she can eventually take GCSEs.

Oh!  And I’ve improved some of the songs I wrote and will probably set more to music.

And

Here’s a limerick I wrote yesterday:

Panem et Circenses*

A Big Mac and Strictly Come Dancing

that schedule’s a boil that needs lancing

It’s not nice to see ya

my burger tastes queer

Don’t tell me our culture’s advancing.

*  Bread and circuses – what, according to the Roman Emperors, is all the people needed to keep them happy;

Oh!  and I wrote a scene for a short play on BBC 7 (“chaingang”) but couldn’t find an internet cafe in Loughborough to send it from.

To Mirch Marsala tonight where we are having a meal generously provided by our friends Peter and Noel.

PS I’m writing a series of limericks on Friends, which begins like this:

It starts with a Rembrandt or two

who say that they’ll be there for you

a fountain, some jiving

a bride who is skiving

cos everyone says she’s a shoe

The idea is to write a verse for each series.  I’m really into limericks at the moment

66 poems on this blog!

I counted them.  Are 66 poems enough for a book?  I guess they might be.  There’s a competition in the name of TS Eliot for the best unpublished book-length collection of poetry.

Mm.  Trouble is, I’m not a huge fan of ToiletS, as Mark calls him.  I don’t think he’s bad, I just think he’s overrated, especially by himself.  Still, it’s an opportunity….

Better not include the parody of his work if I do send it in.  On the other hand, sometimes a bit of cheek can work wonders.  It’s so hard to know… If you don’t know anyone on the inside track, you’re really working in the dark.

Anyway, here’s a work in progress:

Trial

The price of prejudice runs high

the guilty and the judged

the jury of your peers floats by

the signature is smudged

The verdict of the inmate

(the powerless know best)

the innocent are intimate

and call at your behest

The guards like dead policemen

override your sleeping form

reverse two-fingered peace, man

your block goes down a storm

You’re calling on Jehovah

while warders work to rule

slop out till time is over

as they’re witnessing your stool

That’s all I’ve got so far.  It’s a bit rough round the edges.  And I know the “peace man” is a bit contrived – but do you know how few words rhyme with “policeman”?

Kirk out

The early-burly of the first commuters

This was a phrase that came to me this morning.  Yesterday was BRILLIANT!  It was AMAZING to be up there, to see the London skyline as I did my stretchs and twists, to look over at the clock of St Martin’s in the Fields and see how I was doing (the time really flew – it didn’t seem like an hour), to see people down below – they’re really close and you can talk to them if you want.  Oh!  And Bruce Kent turned up, which was great – haven’t seen him since 1980-something – and a couple of London CND people with a banner and the square was FULL because it was lunchtime and everything went great except I wasn’t really practised with the megaphone and kept getting feedback or not being heard so the poems didn’t come across that well.  Still, they will have come over on the internet I expect. *

Afterwards I did the only decent thing and got drunk.  Found a brilliant pub just off the square and quaffed (that’s the only word for it) several pints of London Pride.  Chris turned up and we introduced him to the pub.  A had time was good by all.

Then back to Leicester and we marched straight down to Pizza Express.  By the time the food arrived I was ravenous.

Horrible glass of Chianti though.  That was a mistake.

Slightly hung over this morning but not too bad.

The early burly catches the curly wurly.

So thanks to all who came and supported me.

Will try to watch it on the net now.

Kirk out

*They did!

God, I miss the screaming…

Yes!  Yes!  Almost back to normal now.  I have written a couple of poems to do on the plinth and it’s really coming together now.  They are called “Peace One Day” and “Action!”  I’ll put them on here afterwards – don’t want to pre-empt the event.

I’m wondering if I should have a megaphone, and if so, how poems about peace are going to come across when shouted via a megaphone.  Reminds me of Vogon poetry – hence the title, which I think comes from the H2G2 film.

Tying up all the loose ends today.  Practising, and hopefully booking a holiday.  I’m staying tomorrow night with a friend of Claire’s called Anna – and for a while I thought she lived near St Peter’s Church, Edmonton, because she’s in London N9.  Turns out London N9 is quite a big area.  She’s not even near Oakfield Rd, Stoke Newington, where my grandparents came from – and it isn’t easy to get from one place to the other on the tube.  Ah well.   The holiday cottage I really want, though, is in Rustington, and I know that’s near where my grandparents retired.  Rustington is only a small town.

My head is coming together.  Thank god.

Kirk out.

(Oh, all right then – if you don’t know, it means “Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”.  2 H’s and 2 G’s – geddit?)www.bbc.co.uk/h2g2/

Mark’s marvellous meds

Really good stuff – it goes all zingy in your mouth and then your brain starts to feel whizzy and your temples feel the blood again and, hey presto!  you’re starting to feel well on your way to recovery!

What do we want?  A gradual recovery!

When do we want it?  Phased in over a period of days!

It may not be snappy but it works.  Honest.  If you’re interested, it’s a mixture of slippery elm and oh damn something else – I’ve forgotten. * Mark has gone off to make coffee.

Holly is going to Lifebeat today – a young people’s camp where they do all sorts of stuff.  She is being given a lot of assistance with her place, for which relief much thanks!

We will go to church this morning and if I am up to it I may meet Peter for a drink or two in some pub called, uninspiringly, The Donkey.  I can’t remember what it used to be called.  The Horse and Hound or Dog and Duck.  Something normal.

I am not, however, drinking alcohol as I don’t think it will do my low blood pressure any good.

Incidentally, whenever I think of the Horse and Hound (which, thankfully, is not often, I pronounce it mentally The Hawce end Hind.  I used to have a book called “High Taw Tawk Propah-leah”, which was quite funny.  There was a guest speaker once came to one of our school Junior Speech Days (on which may the gods spit) called Miss Povah, and she talked exactly like that.  I spent the whole summer imitating her.)

But I digress.

Enjoy the day.  Get your browsers tuned to One&Other.co.uk and check out the webcam.  Don’t forget Weds at 1 pm!

Kirk out

Additional: since I am not physically 100% I may take the opportunity to do some poems up there – which was my original thought anyway!  I have one brewing in my head called “Peace one Day”

* Not slippery elm but prickly ash – interesting that I should mix those two up!  And horseradish.  Serious stuff.

A little late for me…

back now from the chalet. Did 42 rounds (of 3 types) – took 50 mins. Looks like 48 rounds in about an hour.
Here are a couple of poems. I may have posted them before but found them lurking at the chalet.

Fame and Shame
The lights blaze
like an interrogation
Where were you on the night of the 17th?
- here, I was here
My cheeks burn as I approach the mic
clearing my throat nervously
A thousand, twenty thousand
turn to me
I take a breath
- I want to do this on my own.

The Bloody Christians
How far
from the track
they travelled
purely by being sure
they were the ones
laying it.

I can’t remember why I put that title now.
The bold button has gone all unmanageable.
Chris has complained that I haven’t mentioned him. Hallo Chris!
Kirk out

Apparently it’s Nablopomo

Did you know that?  No, it’s not a Russian tennis player but an acronym (is that the word I want?) for National Blog Posting Month.  Here’s a poem:

Anagram

America: one nation under God

Britain: one nation underdog

Hunh?  Not bad a?

A new poem…

I was quite pleased with this one:

Artist and Mother

A curtain waisted at the window

she draws herself