Adequate Warning

Beware, for I will take him.
There will be no fight;
he will come to me
willing though wary
As child to stranger. He will come.

The nearer to me he gets
the faster you will vanish.
Your shared history
your acres of secret smiles
I am afraid to say,
will count for nothing.

I will scent my body and I will
bring him in with my eyes
while you keep looking the other way.
I shall create fresh memories.

I strongly suspect that you
will barely witness the vanishing.
I shall suck away his skin
and when I am through
you may take him back.


He will be as bones.


You will consider this a gift.

Perfect

You know those moments when you get a sense that absolutely everything right at that point is just sheer perfection? They are fleeting normally, but that doesn't matter because you can sniff them for hours, sometimes days afterwards by recalling them. Today I was driving to pick up my eldest, the sun was the fierce gleaming ball of energy that late September flings on you like a gift, no one was ahead of me driving badly and making me shriek "nobber!". Long straight road, warmth, window down, foot down, Weller playing this on the cd.



I have a feeling today. Everything I am doing is with an energy I havent felt for months and months.
I am alert. I feel like some kind of wild animal, all heightened senses I am sprung inside, waiting for the world to come and have a go.

I love it.

Change.

There is something afoot. Not sure what it is yet. Mark my words.

Carbooty

I love junk shops, carboot sales, charity shops. When I was 16 myself and my friends used to get up early on a Saturday morning and trawl through church jumble sales, coming away with fabulous 40's and 50's dresses,  austere or garish, nipped in, fabulous. Add a pair of black or white long suede gloves with dozens of tiny buttons running from wrist to elbow, a pair of seamed stockings for 50p from Woolworths and a £1 a pair of impossibly high stilettoes from the back room of the ancient cobblers shop on Lumley Road where my boyfriend worked as an apprentice, we would dress to the nines for less than a fiver. During lunchtime at college, we would walk to Dead Mans Alley (or Ball Pit Lane - our name was more apt) near the church, and rifle through old suits that a shop there held in dusty piles, remnants of house clearances. Poor mum would get the job of taking them in, taking them up and generally feminizing them. Bees knees indeed.
You can still get bargains these days, but jumble sales seem to be a thing of the past. People realised you could make cash from unwanted belongings, and so the humble jumble drifted away into past tense. Shame.
Still, I love to hunt for a bargain anyway, and though the days of 40's dresses are long gone (not to mention the tiny waist that slid so easily inside the post war clobber. That's what I need, a bit of cake rationing) I still wander round car boots and my eldest daughter and I regularly haunt the charity shops for unusual clothes or ornaments.

I found last week, a set of three buddha faces designed, I imagine to go on a garden wall  - painted dark green with gold smeared on the eyes and lips, they were awful.. but... a can of matt cream spray paint, and they look fab on my wall. £3! For them all! Barg.
I also picked up a set of two long wooden frames with three cut out mounts inside - £1.50 for both.. They each held 3 cartoon postcards of winnie the pooh (dont go there) but then I found a book of 1950 film posters for 75p, clipped out six of my favourite kitchen sink and polanski favourite films, sprayed the frames cream too, and voila.


Proper chuffed with the results.

And the patio... oops.

Conversational Nonsense.

I don't think my friends actually understand me much. *Huff*

21:29 Pesk
I am starting to have little patience with men

21:29 Fish 

Is that an improvement on your previous position of Fucking None?

He's behind you... 

(apologies to the Americans for a probably nonsensical entry)



"Look" I shouted to the girls. "Look at my new boots!"

I'm standing at the top of the stairs in my black knickers and jumper and boots. (I was trying them on after partially disrobing ok?)

"I could be in the panto!" I say, grinning as I raised one leg and slapped my thigh, principal boy style.

"As a dame" said Wibs.

Thanks Wibs.


My boots.

Not me.

Birthday Girl

Had absolutely the nicest birthday for years yesterday. Rabes came over, straight from Phoenix, which started it off well... totally spoiled. Presents coming out of my ears.. how lovely. Not had such a sweet time for years. He even bought perfume for the children to give me, which really choked me. Not the perfume, that was gorgeous, but the act. Kind. Went to Lincoln for the day and sat on the wharf with juice and wine, wandered up steep hill. Felt a little odd, but the day was so gorgeous and warm... home, tacos for dinner. Early night.

Happy day. Found myself overwhelmed with it... A really happy day. 

Apropos of Nothing


Bonny and her rabid feminism.



























Dad with an apple on his head. Mum's out of shot, with an arrow.










Tiny snail. Not my nose, my finger.