New paintings and regular art updates.
I think I’m holding this phone too much.
Strong grip tightens muscles,
Hand clutches
Top and side of my shoulder aches.
Limited movement
Tense and tight
Shoulders raised to my ears
It’s agony when I lie down to sleep
Or reach up to get something
Out of the cupboard.
Grr
Enough
Rest and recuperate.
Someone asked if I grew up with 3 TV channels and no smartphone? My answer:
We watched 1 channel, on black and white TV. God save the queen played when the station closed and then a high tone would play to get you to switch off your TV.
We listened to Radio 1 and the light programme, with Jimmy Clitheroe on at the weekends. My mom got the thunderbird theme tune played on the radio for our birthday.
We had rotary phone (eventually) after we moved house. Then we had spin dryer, boiler/top loading washer with a ringer.
In the old house we had a toilet at the end of the yard but we had one downstairs in the new house. In the old house we had a tin bath. In the new house we had a brand new bathroom. And my parents bought an electric shower. Shall I go on… Memories.
In response to a lot of strange flag waving excesses in the UK I posted this message. I believe it explains how I feel about it.
It’s not the flag, but the idiots waving it whilst shouting abuse at anyone who doesn’t agree with them. It’s not the flag, but people arguing people should be burnt alive. It’s not the flag, but people who think it’s funny to let children drown. It’s not the flag, but people who think paying the taliban to take frightened people back to Afghanistan is a good idea. It’s not the flag, but the people who consider it the British Swastika.
If you fly the flag do it with respect to humanity.
I think this could be a way of describing it to other people too. This might be too much to say here, but I feel it needs to be said. I don’t want to bring arguments here. I apologise for that.
I saw my painting of you
And cried
I look at photos
And weep
43 years together
Now lost
How can I say goodbye
When our hearts are still entwined
Wrapped up together
Through sun and rain
Long memories
Still holding hands
In my mind.
Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?
When I eventually found out a so called friend had tried to have an affair with my hubby I was shocked. My hubby told me about it because we had had an argument about the way she spoke about him ( clearly because he had rejected her).
It took a while to sink in, and we broke off the friendship after that. But the signs had been there before. She was always round our house when I was at work, ostensibly because she had commuted back on the train and called at our house on the way home for a rest (she would walk back from the station). Often I would give her a lift from our house, and we would chat. She kept saying that she was not a good person, but I reassured her. Now I think about it she was probably trying to confess about her behaviour.
When hubby died a couple of years later she rang me up and asked if we could be friends again! I don’t know if she was aware of my hubby telling me what she had tried to do. But I could not bare to say anything and just hung the phone up on her!
Something is occurring on UK tv
An orange smarmfest for people to see
So many millions drink the juice
And find their brains are letting loose
Thoughts of selfishness and pain
Their minds are so full of distain
For the poor and the elderly
Veterans too.
No fears in their minds
For those they will hurt
Much rather to vote
For an Orange Jerk.
Every so often I find a heart, and I smile and remember, I’m not alone.
Memories grip me, I remember clear days, driving through country lanes, visiting old houses, happiness, times spent together.
It doesn’t have to be a leaf, I see hearts in swirls of coffee, puddles, holes in crumpets, flower petals, it’s just some random pattern that leads me to loving feelings, caring, comforting, companionable love.
And I’m glad.
Crashed UFO at the play I went to yesterday. It wasn’t actually on the stage but in a seperate room on the way in.
In a strange way it reminded me of a Santa’s sledge I saw once outside Santa’s grotto as a child. You then got into another sled inside a large screened of area and the landscape on the sides seemed to move. It was actually a painted backdrop on rollers that ran round so the landscape seemed to scroll past. At the end of your “journey” you got off to see Santa and get your present…. Oops rambling there
..
I could imagine doing the same thing with the UFO so it would look like it was flying through the sky with stars and clouds.
I decided to write a poem on a poetry page on Facebook. Here it is.
I would like to be brave and post something here.
But my poems are mostly spontaneous.
An explosion of thought on the page.
My mind dances around thoughts,
Spiralling into nooks and crannies.
Flying across the landscape of my brain.
Hopefully landing safely and intact.
The nights are getting longer
The days slightly shorter
It’s almost bedtime
But I’m hot
My heart aches, my mind too
So I’ll sit and watch TV a bit
No sensible thoughts in my mind
Just watching the nights decline
Into a slow dawn.
Maybe the sun will shine bright
In the morning after this night.
I don’t know
Time goes slow
When you’re alone
With the pain of loss.
Mallaband-Brown