A watery playground

In the lazy dazzle

of a hazy autumnal sun,

 I watch the sea leap and dance,

 the waves a turbulent mass

of energy unleashed.

A jet skier climbs and cuts a swathe

Through the terre verte of this playground’s mighty swell.

All that‘s left of the lone windsurfer

glimpsed far out to sea earlier

is the Milk Tray Man sloshing with seal-like

wetsuit there across the car park –

 the wind  hastening him to his car.

A few bedraggled and windswept dog-walkers

look, with me, seawards across the sands.

Sands which are now bereft

of their tourist adornments.

I prefer them just plainly

beautiful.

Encouraging

A little mop-top boy and an enthusiastic smile accompanied by more words than have been uttered in a year. As though a lightbulb has been switched on, Daniel is animated and suddenly like a pint-size factfile.

It’s the little things that can make your day!

An old boiler

£276 lighter (well not me) and it’s still kaput.

The man looks at me and says “Soooo… that didn’t work.”

I look back and we both look at the boiler, the boiler remains stubbornly silent.

No hiss of exasperation or puffing of steam to show that it has not expired.

It has.

Go on then!

The button is pressed and…

too late to change my mind –

the consequences a

forbidding shadow to

be overcome and just

embraced.  

Nervous yet excited

trepidation

mingle and fizz…yes!

Without Expectation

An unexpected

act of kindness,

softens my heart…

blurs the memories.

Looking Back

23.9.13

Looking through old certificates, mixed feelings!

SWS – Paperwork

22.9.13

Planning words but not for stones.

Making your ears Bleed

I wonder who writes the mind-numbing tunes on the HMRC website? Is it a ploy to make you so incensed that you hang up and stop bothering them? The electronic tones are of a similarly uninspiring middle-toned variety and are irritating in the extreme – especially if you are hanging on for what seems like an endless premium rate phone call. Is there some sadistic person on the other end filing their nails, reading a book with their ipod plugged into their ears…having that oh so smug voice repeatedly stating,  “Thanks for waiting one of our advisers will be with you as soon as possible.”

This is blatantly a lie. They are on an extended lunch break or (as it is a Saturday) they have knocked off until Monday.  I am not happy. I have lots of other things to do. It says on the website that they are open until four!!  Maybe they only employ one person in the help centre and they have to make tea, do the post and play online bingo.

I feel that I could almost join in the dulcet tones that are assailing my ears – I have heard them so often.  Incidental music I think they call it – there’s the quacking one, the uppy downy one, and the oh so jolly one, and the plainly bizarre moonscape ocean one. They are enough to send anyone crazy (in my defence).

I think I may have to go and sit in a darkened room for a while – oh and take the phone with me of course!

Harvest

 

There’s something not quite right with the moon.

 

A less-than-perfect sphere, has someone got out the sanding paper and filed away a slither? Or perhaps tired of the epithet ‘moon-faced’ has she attempted to sculpt more defined cheekbones and gone the way of many a celebrity. Poor Luna, did no-one tell her that her God–given beauty far surpasses any that could be crafted by artificial means.

 

Changing Roles

Pivotal,

my place.

Like a seesaw –

perpetual motion…mother…daughter…

transient.

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