Reflecting

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Little Painty Spider

Little Painty Spider.
Your Mum and sibling
Escaped
To the white expanse
Above,
With its artexed craters
And valleys, to hide.
You though
Didn’t realise the
Yellow
Roller was coming your
Way…nor did I. Then.
Too late.
Nevermind. You are now
Truly part of the
Décor
As your kind have long
Hoped for.
Gone but not forgotten.

Little Painty Spider

Image: http://naturemoms.com/blog/2006/05/30/natural-ways-to-get-rid-of-spiders/
spider

World cup Fever – 10 Quotes to help understand the strange world of football for the uninitiated.

It’s the England v Italy game tonight. I wasn’t anticipating watching as am not really a sporty person and had been invited out to party to celebrate not going to either the Isle of Wight Festival or being a football fan. HOWEVER, I find myself sitting near to the landline (family!) and so I thought I’d ask for a quick guide on the rules of the game in case anyone could help…

“All I know is that men are kicking a ball. And they sometimes shout! Think that’s it isn’t it?!”

“And they roll over on the floor crying.”

“Think there might be some hugging too. Any rolling around on the floor could result in green painty stripes on kit ” (reference to Brazil painting out the brown lines on the pitch to make the grass look more healthy and the pitch in better condition!)

“And some tugging on each other’s shirts!!”

“Some people think it doesn’t matter which net to kick the ball in as long as they get a goal!” (the first goal of the World cup was an own goal by hosts Brazil)

“They have to get the ball in the net..the person who does the most rolls aroung the grass gets the most free.kicks”

“…is that where they use foul play (pretending they have been freely kicked) to get a free kick…?”

“I think so!!”

“And sometimes they like to collect coloured cards”

“I think some of them wave them in the other’s face – showing off obviously!”

I feel much better informed now…

Prickles and Pongs

Bribery is the order of the day and, like a carrot, the children are allowed a couple at a time to peer in the box from a safe distance and say hello to the temporary new classmate…in return for producing the required piece of work beforehand. It works. Even the most reluctant scholar perks up and completes the allotted task on time! Unfortunately this coconut-sized bundle of prickles, seems allergic to its fellow students and keeps sneezing – unless it was Pandora’s new perfume which could also be used as an insect repellent as the weather warms up!
Prickles and pongs

And relax…

I’m taking my elderly parents shopping. They are not impressed by my new meditational didge CD.
“What’s that noise?” says my Mum, “Sounds like we are being invaded by dinosaurs!”
My Dad,an artist, doesn’t appreciate the tonal quality.
”Not much colour is there?”
“No colour at all.” complains Mum. “It sounds like a more boring version of the bagpipes.”
“Wait!” I urge them “I think there’s an interesting bit just coming now…” Two beats later the drone is back. I am marvelling at the length of the sound without stopping. I share this revelation with the captive audience.
If he’s not breathing he should be dead by now. No-one can go that long without breathing!” says my sceptical mother.
“It’s circular breathing Mum, in through the nose and out through the mouth at the same time.”
“Hmmph” responds Mum, unimpressed obviously.
“Your grandson is able to do it.” I point out. My Mum immediately takes more interest while my Dad, who has missed this additional piece of information, is still not able to hear the subtleties in the rendition. He is a bit hard of hearing after all.
“I think it would be more tuneful listening to me gargling.” Dad is feeling left out.
We can’t help laughing as holding a tune is not his forte.
“Listen!” I can hear the faint beginnings of a boomerang call weaving its way into the music but by the time they have finished their derisive mutterings, they’ve missed it.
Didgeridoo for the unconverted.
didgeridoo
image:http://blogyogui.blogspot.co.uk/2010/09/el-didgeridoo.html

Didgeridoo Dreamimg by Cephalodidge is available here: Joe Caudwell
http://jcaudwell.wix.com/cephalodidge#!didgeridoos/cbfn

Over the last few months, Joe of Cephalodidge has been running events that provide a relaxing and healing space for people, using the didgeridoo as a therapeutic instrument, through sound and vibration. These ‘Didgeridoo Dreaming’ sessions have led Joe to create an album that can facilitate meditation, journeying and healing. This CD, recorded and mastered by Tim Charlton (who also did the Ostara album for Joe) is an atmospheric soundscape of two didgeridoos weaving together for just over 40 minutes. The didgeridoo used for the recording was made by Joe from a dead sycamore tree he found in the Autumn of 2013, near a special cave in the woods that he often visits and plays in.
10% of the sale of the new CD will be donated to Survival International, the well known organisation that helps tribal people defend their lives, protect their lands and determine their own futures.
You can hear some short samples of the CD here, and also pre-order it now, the CD will be released by the end of April 2014.

Sun Day

I attempt to get a calmer outlook on life by putting on my new yoga DVD.  A few downward dogs and cobras later, I attempt a wobbly tree pose and feel ready to say “Hi” to the Sun. I am feeling rejuvenated and ready to start my day – ok it is 2pm and my day actually started quite a few hours earlier but I had to get other things out of the way first like the washing and shopping and getting my roots done didn’t I? Oh and did I mention that I am on a fast day and need to keep my mind off what’s in the fridge?

I get a call from a friend and go for a walk along the beach.  I don’t know if it’s the lack of food but I see yoga poses in the sky…

hallucinating

How to jump to all the wrong conclusions while eavesdropping.

If you could have seen my Dad’s face. I tried to ignore him, I really did, but sitting in the doctor’s waiting room at half past six on a Monday evening when his appointment was at 5.15 it was hard not to overhear the rather loud conversation going on between two teenage girls behind us. I could just imagine what he was thinking. I could see him sort of try and turn around to see what these delinquents looked like. I knew that he wouldn’t be disappointed. They were sitting about 10 feet away so each had to speak up to make sure they were heard by the other. The furthest one away started talking about how her newly-pierced lip was agony, while the one directly behind us admired it and asked how much it hurt to have it done. Their conversation then widened out to compare how different places convey pain at differing levels. I knew where this was going. I knew that they aimed to shock. My Dad didn’t. He was shocked. He tried to catch my eye while I pointed out a potentially interesting magazine article in some attempt to distract – an upwards movement of the eyebrows, which I ignored and went back to looking at my riveting copy of Trainspotters Monthly.
The two sets – Lippy and Dad, Teen Mum and her Mum – started complaining about how long they were having to wait and how they were getting rather hungry. I turned and offered them some chewing gum using Lippy’s real name (Jasmine) and cooing over the cutest little pink-enveloped infant who belonged to the other girl. My Dad disappeared into his appointment and the rest of us had a chat. Jasmine’s Dad was still doing his historical re-enactments and his other two daughters were getting on well, as was his wife.
On the way home, in response to his disparaging remarks, I explained that he was too quick to judge – they were one of the loveliest families I had ever taught (all three girls having gone through my class at some time) and Jasmine’s lovely mother had gone out of her way to help him to paint the school play scenery about ten years before.
A cliché but never truer: books can’t be judged by their covers!

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