It’s one of those idyllic “why would anyone want to be anywhere else” days in May. The back garden is starting to bloom and the sound of birdsong is all around. The lawn has been mown and the hammock is up for the first time this season.
Upstairs the two older offspring are revising for forthcoming examinations, voluntarily and without parental pressure! The other two are in Sunday School with their mother making for a peaceful morning.
Cricket has unfortunately been cancelled as Bracebridge Heath Under 9s have failed to raise a side. It would have been a perfect day for it sat on the boundary sipping a coffee and reading the Sunday papers.
A small plane buzzes across the sky leaving no trail, the sound remaining for a short while after it has disappeared from sight. Leaves flutter in the gentle wind.
The jobs list has been quickly finished and the car retrieved from Burton Road where it was left after a quick post golf drink turned into several. I am now sat in the conservatory with the doors open with a cup of green tea sourced from the shop on Steep Hill. Outside in the garden it is too bright to type. All is well.
I’m looking out of the window. It’s a bright, blustery day. The branches of the trees are swaying, and the birds are being blown about. The scudding clouds are casting fleeting shadows over the landscaped lawns. The grass was cut last week, but the dandelions, buttercups, and daisies are already back and moving in waves with every gust of wind. The road beyond the car park is full of cars coming and going. Everything’s moving, big and small. Except me. I’m just sitting here watching.
My Lovely Mum,
Your food is scrum,
Your huncles are warm,
You do the housework as quick as a storm,
You buy me presents,
But don’t shoot pheasants.
From John. firstpharmacyuk
Bank Holiday. As if they need one.
Weekend.
Like we used to have.
Peat on the fire, as the lady cools.
Some camping, but
I’m not there, I’m not invited
Into the front room.
Why there?
It might rain, so be safe
And sanitised.
Is that a sneeze I hear?
Will we live Tref?
Should we stock up?
Let loose the 21st Century’s dogs of war.
Telegraph the news abroad.
Swine flu has put me on a high,
Another pandemic in progress,
The end of the world is nigh,
Whilst you can, live life to excess.
One more drink before the end of play,
A calming effect don’t panic,
Oblivion wends its certain way,
Endemic or not, it’s academic.
As we await our final moments,
A time for thought and deep reflection,
A battle fought with inner torments,
If life is cheap, what price infection?
by dex
He died, young,
Though many have gone before,
The shock remains,
As if for the first time.
The community, silenced,
In unexpected grief,
Left thinking,
Pondering their own mortality.
We’re on the Tesco stage at the Millennium Centre tomorrow.
Singing some songs that as yet I haven’t seen and don’t know.
I’ll be standing at the back doing my best as anyone would,
I really hope I don’t do an impression of John Redwood.
Not cricket. He said.
Don’t care. Said Mr Turner.
What am I to do between 5 and 7?
Not my concern, you’re not sitting here,
We don’t like you’re demographic and its lack of money.
But my listeners. But my games, my lines. My life.
Commercial radio is no place for cost cutting,
Just people cutting and Mike has gone.
Beware all those who plan careers
In this, the people marketplace.
You’re young once only
And then only briefly.
In Italy this week
A loving God
Who is all powerful,
Killed off a couple
Of hundred people
In an earthquake.
They must have been
Evil, presumably?!
The bell tolled,
The faithful went to prayer
And their Leader sent a message
“Assuring us of his spiritual nearness,
Sharing the anguish”.
The bereaved I’m sure,
Would be comforted,
That the souls of the departed
Were fine,
Presuming they were
Good Catholics and
Regularly went
To confession,
The dead that is.
Some mercy was shown –
Survivors were found
Pleased that their names
Were not this time
On the celestial roll call.
The dead, Sofia, Carlo,
Anna, Francesco
Fictitious and fleeting,
Will be remembered for some years
By a plaque, itself destined
For destruction by some future
Wanton act of the same God.
In the morning the mist rolled down from the peaks
To mingle with the steam rising from the hot springs
That formed the headwaters of the Orinoco river.
The snows were still waiting to melt but we floated around the pools
Enjoying the scenery and the fact that we were warm
In spite of the obvious cool of the mountains.
Exploring the waters we were suddenly caught
In a current that left us powerless to resist;
Swept downwards we struggled to keep our heads
Above the torrent and to avoid the attentions of the rocks
That waited their chance at each bend.
In no time at all, it seemed, we found ourselves
Down the river and out at sea fighting huge waves
That pummeled us as much as had the river earlier in our journey.
The waves eventually grew smaller and we were washed
Onto a gentle sloping beach where we were able to recover.
Around us were exotic plants of all kinds
And above the beach the miracle of a terrace bar,
No illusion this but an invitation to partake.
Dripping back to our towels we picked up some
Valuables to barter for ice creams with the locals.
Wild water rapids we got licked!
Sitting there sipping my tea on the indoor terrace
I was completely relaxed and the noises
That bounced off the skin of my bubble
Added to my sense of wellbeing.
The sounds were never quite prominent enough to intrude
But I could hear what they were.
Chairs moved, table tennis balls pinged and ponged,
People spoke and I could, I thought, detect
The faint whirring of the air-conditioning fans above,
Teaspoons clicked and straws sucked as footsteps went by.
I could see the rainwater running
Down the glass roof outside the bubble
But the sound of the rain was only in my imagination.
Climbers went slowly up and down the wall.
A man, who had been sat with his daughter
For at least ten minutes in front of me finally spoke:
“When is your first exam?”
The family eventually found me and the bubble burst .
Jardin Des Sports, Longleat Center Parcs, Easter 09