The first thing I said on waking was, “Please ... let it not be spring when he leaves - a parting at a time of new beginnings. You must know it would break my heart to see gambolling lambs and cavorting daffodils, just then ... When the earth cracks open don’t let me be mocked by the portents of new life, and fresh beginnings. I would rather not live than see the fruits of the union twixt earth and heaven.”
I leant over and prodded Freddie awake. “You must know autumn would be much better; when the world has begun to ease off, before its descent into the things of darkness, into hibernation. That’s where I must be if I’m to survive this.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, “Where light will not be welcome, and no comfort at all. Grant me an inhospitable landscape, and short, short overcast days; dull skies, and no natural warmth.”
“That’s just what I would have said.”
“You already did”, she grunted. “We’ve been rehearsing this tired old speech for weeks now.”
“Not in so many words, we haven’t - Oh bless! You must have sneaked a look at the latest draft when you came in last night."
“When,” she asked as she unzipped her sleeping bag and clambered up off the floor, “Are you going to get us some decent coffee? Surely, it’s not unreasonable to ask you to do that much round here.”
“How do you know I haven’t already? You haven’t got as far as the kitchen yet.” Freddie put on a sock. “Don’t look like that”, I muttered, lying back in my sofa bed nest. “I’ve been so busy at work, this past month, as well as the rest. Writing the script, and getting everything ready for the big day.... Come on, darling, don’t sulk - we agreed - it needs to be perfect.” Freddie buckled her belt.
I sat up, stretched and considered what to wear. “I’ve been thinking. Green would be so much better for Tuesday.”
Freddie sat down, and smoothed my hair back from my face. “But we’d agreed, black, Sylvie. We agreed all this right from the start - months ago. Because she thinks it’s finished and that they’re never going to see each other again.”
“Hmm. But she knows he’ll be coming back, and that they’ll carry on like they always have.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
“Yes, she does.”
Freddie sighed. “Why are you doing this to me? You know it’s important that she’s distraught when he goes – for his sake.”
“OK, OK,” I placated, “She’ll wear black; I’ll do it just like you want - it’s just that I thought green was more positive; it’s – you know - the colour of growth.” I picked up Freddie’s hand and examined her nails. “It’s an idea isn’t it? How about her saying one thing and wearing another? It would keep an audience guessing. ‘Cause anything could happen, couldn’t it?”
“We’ve been through this a thousand times. It’s important to be consistent. He needs to be 100% focused on her needs, and worrying about how she’ll cope whilst he’s in the States. So it stops him from – look she won’t be wailing and carrying on if she doesn’t think he’s going away for ever; yeah?”
“She could be pretending, and about to do something positive with her life, like - a course in – I don’t know, Romanian.”
“That’s enough. You are not helping. Christ! Will you look at the time?” she said, shoving unwashed feet into her Birkenstocks, “I’ve got to get going; early seminar.”
I got up and pulled on jogging pants. “Jesus, I wish I’d never agreed to do this.”
Freddie, kissed me and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Come on, you know why we’re doing it like this. It’s important, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. Treating it like a game will help you to cope.”
But, what, I thought - as I brushed my teeth - about me? Freddie going to see a shrink about her fear of flying was meant to help her with coping strategies. Not, I spat, drive me into the arms of the nearest sane man.
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
Thursday, 2 October 2008
Life in its abundance
During this summer – the wettest on record – we have been reminded that the weather is one of the things we can’t control. To that most would add that neither have they been able to control how they’ve been affected by it.
For many the weather will have been irrelevant. I am thinking of the terminally ill, their families, and of Fiona in particular. She is expecting her first child. And by the time it’s born she will have lost - in the space of six months – the two most significant men in her life: her father and her husband.
Where there’s life there’s hope
I cite Fiona’s example, because her courage in the face of tragic circumstances is remarkable. She owns neither religious faith, nor any particular hope in a life hereafter. What she does have is hope for her unborn child. Life for her, and her husband’s parents, will go on. Their grief, with its attendant anguish will have a focus. They will hold in their arms a tangible reminder of a loved one and the promise of a new future.
My friend’s profound loss, together with news of the Indian monsoon, has reminded me that most of us don’t have much to complain about. When it rains we don’t lose all our possessions, which only ever amounted to all that could carried in a handcart. And, it’s rare in this country, in this century, to lose a middle-aged parent and a young spouse in quick succession. We do well, therefore, to reflect on the gift of our lives, and to count our blessings.
Born Free
There will, of course, be times when we too will feel anything but blessed. Life is unpredictable, and the shards of life’s disappointments can wound. But we need not be damaged by them. We have been created free and intelligent people blessed with an ability to choose our response.
Accordingly we are not programmed automatons, for whom God arranges no suffering. It is inevitable that one’s person choice may mean suffering for another. God neither causes us to suffer nor desires it, but God is not going to remove the possibility. Instead God will be with us every step of the way, through our triumphs and disasters, making our lives bearable and also sharing in our joys.
Forgiveness
In Matthew 10:8 Christians, and others, are taught that our response to God’s amazing grace should be to freely give; to love as we are loved. If we strive constantly to forgive, we shall ourselves be forgiven.
Otherwise we distance ourselves from God; we fail to love one another, to treat others as we would wish to be treated and to understand others as we would wish to be understood. Thus we must overcome the bearing of grudges - against anyone, or anything - the desire for revenge and the wish to punish those who have offended us.
Prayer
If we ask we will be given the strength to bear the impact of whatever befalls us. God knows we are vulnerable and that we get hurt, but if we are to become fully human we cannot be protected from life. As such God rarely works to change the real world. Instead, everything that happens in our lives – good or bad - can be a means of deepening our capacity to become fully human and to enjoy life in its abundance.
Prayer ensures we can enjoy a loving relationship with the living God, no matter what. By it we will be granted the help to take what comes and grow through it; granted thereby the opportunity to become what God intends: ‘profitable servants’ who have realised the fullness of their potential.
published in New Vision
For many the weather will have been irrelevant. I am thinking of the terminally ill, their families, and of Fiona in particular. She is expecting her first child. And by the time it’s born she will have lost - in the space of six months – the two most significant men in her life: her father and her husband.
Where there’s life there’s hope
I cite Fiona’s example, because her courage in the face of tragic circumstances is remarkable. She owns neither religious faith, nor any particular hope in a life hereafter. What she does have is hope for her unborn child. Life for her, and her husband’s parents, will go on. Their grief, with its attendant anguish will have a focus. They will hold in their arms a tangible reminder of a loved one and the promise of a new future.
My friend’s profound loss, together with news of the Indian monsoon, has reminded me that most of us don’t have much to complain about. When it rains we don’t lose all our possessions, which only ever amounted to all that could carried in a handcart. And, it’s rare in this country, in this century, to lose a middle-aged parent and a young spouse in quick succession. We do well, therefore, to reflect on the gift of our lives, and to count our blessings.
Born Free
There will, of course, be times when we too will feel anything but blessed. Life is unpredictable, and the shards of life’s disappointments can wound. But we need not be damaged by them. We have been created free and intelligent people blessed with an ability to choose our response.
Accordingly we are not programmed automatons, for whom God arranges no suffering. It is inevitable that one’s person choice may mean suffering for another. God neither causes us to suffer nor desires it, but God is not going to remove the possibility. Instead God will be with us every step of the way, through our triumphs and disasters, making our lives bearable and also sharing in our joys.
Forgiveness
In Matthew 10:8 Christians, and others, are taught that our response to God’s amazing grace should be to freely give; to love as we are loved. If we strive constantly to forgive, we shall ourselves be forgiven.
Otherwise we distance ourselves from God; we fail to love one another, to treat others as we would wish to be treated and to understand others as we would wish to be understood. Thus we must overcome the bearing of grudges - against anyone, or anything - the desire for revenge and the wish to punish those who have offended us.
Prayer
If we ask we will be given the strength to bear the impact of whatever befalls us. God knows we are vulnerable and that we get hurt, but if we are to become fully human we cannot be protected from life. As such God rarely works to change the real world. Instead, everything that happens in our lives – good or bad - can be a means of deepening our capacity to become fully human and to enjoy life in its abundance.
Prayer ensures we can enjoy a loving relationship with the living God, no matter what. By it we will be granted the help to take what comes and grow through it; granted thereby the opportunity to become what God intends: ‘profitable servants’ who have realised the fullness of their potential.
published in New Vision
Monday, 21 July 2008
An old tablecloth
She told me, definitely, French
(à couvrir une table) and très, très chic.
Quite risqué, when pink –
shocking, in fact - but reduced,
come her end, by the laundry
to palest strawberry blonde.
An Old Irish piece, the daughter said,
worn right through - beyond the pale.
(à couvrir une table) and très, très chic.
Quite risqué, when pink –
shocking, in fact - but reduced,
come her end, by the laundry
to palest strawberry blonde.
An Old Irish piece, the daughter said,
worn right through - beyond the pale.
Sunday, 13 July 2008
When Word Gets Out
When the Word gets out it’ll be all over Heard Land.
So it’s “Seal up your lips and give no words but mum.”
Word is the Word’s going straight. Yeay! Like a shot!
Straight through mini roundabouts; and over - without looking
- pelican crossings. Travelling wrong ways down one-way
highways and byways; up passages and alley ways. Sallying,
doing the Lambeth Walk (taking a piss!) in broad daylight
on walkways, ‘bus lanes, foot paths and ‘Old Bristol’ trails.
Way to go! But, time - all options spent – old Word wasn’t here.
Gotta travel back down a certain little lady’s corridor of power.
To meander, legless, up the old dead end. Go see the old woman.
Visit a bricked-up no-entry, no off-road, Five Towns terrace.
Hustle in at a blue gap-toothed door. Lay his head, below street level
in a thick-dusted lap. Test his own echo. Wait for the marks to show.
Meantime best lock up your daughters Mrs. Butter Wouldn’t Melt
in Yer Gob, word is Mum’s not the word; and Bob’s not your uncle.
So it’s “Seal up your lips and give no words but mum.”
Word is the Word’s going straight. Yeay! Like a shot!
Straight through mini roundabouts; and over - without looking
- pelican crossings. Travelling wrong ways down one-way
highways and byways; up passages and alley ways. Sallying,
doing the Lambeth Walk (taking a piss!) in broad daylight
on walkways, ‘bus lanes, foot paths and ‘Old Bristol’ trails.
Way to go! But, time - all options spent – old Word wasn’t here.
Gotta travel back down a certain little lady’s corridor of power.
To meander, legless, up the old dead end. Go see the old woman.
Visit a bricked-up no-entry, no off-road, Five Towns terrace.
Hustle in at a blue gap-toothed door. Lay his head, below street level
in a thick-dusted lap. Test his own echo. Wait for the marks to show.
Meantime best lock up your daughters Mrs. Butter Wouldn’t Melt
in Yer Gob, word is Mum’s not the word; and Bob’s not your uncle.
July 2008
Monday, 30 June 2008
Something & Nothing
A copy of Germinal, by Zola, dislodges a ghost
and I hold a trace of my mother. Incarnate,
come back a book mark, circa March 1990.
A 'Mother's Day' present sent with her love.
The text is ‘Come Let us Worship’: Mary, Jesus -
as he chats to Burne-Jones angels - and a lamb.
My mother, Mary's, token of remembrance:
a free gift from a Help the Aged Charity shop
and I hold a trace of my mother. Incarnate,
come back a book mark, circa March 1990.
A 'Mother's Day' present sent with her love.
The text is ‘Come Let us Worship’: Mary, Jesus -
as he chats to Burne-Jones angels - and a lamb.
My mother, Mary's, token of remembrance:
a free gift from a Help the Aged Charity shop
Wednesday, 25 June 2008
Sunday Morning
Gilded by a late, low-slung mid-winter sun,
we peer out through crazed, damp windows.
See a scrumble of slender, slow, yellow rivers.
We pause for a moment - long enough to listen
– and we hear it; the new-every-morning song:
wood pigeons, robins, thrushes, maybe, finches.
A peace, profound as soft fallen deep snow -
a protecting veil - drops, settles on our home.
we peer out through crazed, damp windows.
See a scrumble of slender, slow, yellow rivers.
We pause for a moment - long enough to listen
– and we hear it; the new-every-morning song:
wood pigeons, robins, thrushes, maybe, finches.
A peace, profound as soft fallen deep snow -
a protecting veil - drops, settles on our home.
January 2007
Tuesday, 29 April 2008
Caesar’s Wife
Despite himself, any memory eternal
was owing to Pompeia’s fifteen minutes.
Not the cakewalk he’d hoped for, at all.
Come the end a politically expedient, barren,
second rate, second choice wife carried away a
small prize - her progeny; at Caesar’s expense.
was owing to Pompeia’s fifteen minutes.
Not the cakewalk he’d hoped for, at all.
Come the end a politically expedient, barren,
second rate, second choice wife carried away a
small prize - her progeny; at Caesar’s expense.
Monday, 7 April 2008
Factory Stack
Fresh, diaphanous, overblown grey mushroom steam
is upstaged by a heavy mob: a puffed-up, blew-in late
last night from the west, swollen-with menace, gang.
Massed, black-bruised, heavy with import, storm clouds.
is upstaged by a heavy mob: a puffed-up, blew-in late
last night from the west, swollen-with menace, gang.
Massed, black-bruised, heavy with import, storm clouds.
Wednesday, 19 March 2008
Thank you, Pat
Come, late spring, with
a tight fistful of flowers:
hedgerow jewels,
revived this morning, a
small kitchen god offering.
a tight fistful of flowers:
hedgerow jewels,
revived this morning, a
small kitchen god offering.
Shaking down the duvet
A sharp crease like a herringbone spine
falls down the length of an unmade bed.
The veined imprint of a lancet leaf, the
press of a tulip embossed on white linen
falls down the length of an unmade bed.
The veined imprint of a lancet leaf, the
press of a tulip embossed on white linen
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