Note Number 52…Waiting…

 

 

Here is a little poem I put together while I was walking the dog and waiting for her to finish looking into the distance at. . . nothing. It made me think about how much of my life I spend waiting for someone or something. When you’ve read this you can add your own ‘waiting for…’ in the comments.

 

I’m always waiting
waiting for the dog
waiting for the kettle to boil
for the washing machine to finish, for a cake to bake
how much time do I spend waiting?
waiting for the bathroom to be free
waiting for my money to get to the bank
I’ve always waited for that, first birthday gifts, then salary, now pension
I’ve never waited at the altar
even though I’ve been married three times
I’ve waited in the courtroom for a divorce

waiting at the cemetery to watch a burial
waiting to spread the ashes of a loved one
stood, waiting in line to buy a stamp
waited for people to come through the barrier
at the airport or the station
waited for a taxi to come along

Waiting, always waiting
I’m always waiting for my turn,
at the shops, at the doctor’s, at the poetry evening,
at a dance competition when I was younger
for my husband to come back from a bike ride now
I’ve waited to be served, with tea, coffee, cold drink
wine, water, snacks, food
waiting for a letter to come
waiting for an email to tell me good news
waiting for my next birthday
waiting at a junction

waiting for a baby to be born, waiting for a relative to die
we’re born waiting.
pausing, postponing, lingering, hanging around, marking time,
killing time when we should be living time
but
we’re waiting

waiting. . .

always waiting

 

 

Ninette Hartley © February 2018

waiting for computer

This is The Man…every day! 

 

 

Note Number 51…Guest Blog from The Man…

The Man needs no introduction…read this, it’s from his Strava ride notes…I think he should be a bike blogger don’t you?

Grand Balon

You’ve got the bloody thing taking up space in the spare bedroom, it’s raining, why aren’t you on it?

ahhh ma cherie I murmured, that same thought crossed my mind not a nanosecond ago, but I am of course most grateful for your kind words of encouragement …

with a patently false, devil may care expression attached to the bon visage, I creaked my way up the stairs and proceeded to get it on!

But before you get on it, you need, a bottle, a towel, your expensive shoes with the pro cleats, 2 new batteries for the Garmin Vectors (shoulda changed them last time) the laptop, two boxes to stand the laptop on, the bedside cabinet, and the wifi booster thing.

Suitably armed, climb aboard and get on with it – well not quite yet because the reason that you aren’t getting any resistance even in the big gear, is that you didn’t clip the wheel to the flywheel before you started, so, climb off do that, get back on and pedal … Oh shit I forgot to start the f***ing video of the German chap riding Liege B Liege with his mates, in the rain, last year, so I have to hang out over the handlebars holding on with one hand and attempt to fire up the laptop with the other, find Favourites, click on the vid, sit back down and …. Christ! I think I might have twisted my knee doing that …..

and so it went on – but I did eventually get in the zone and managed to crank out an hour’s worth at 30kph, so that’s only just over 200km of the LBL still do do AND IT’S BLOODY HILLY by the look of the video, yer man on screen was pedalling single figure kph for lots of it and the profile is very jagged – hmmm – better think seriously about the lardshedding eh!

Perhaps not today though as one of LBN’s exquisite Thai green curries is on the lunch menu …

 

 

Note Number 50…It’s Always Easier for Men…

Apologies in advance for embarrassing any members of my family with this little post and if you don’t like discussing anything of a delicate nature then don’t read on.

beautiful day

Generally the roads around here are lined with impassable hedges…hmmm

I don’t wish to stir up the gender equality debate, but I’m sorry, it’s a FACT — no fake news on this blog — a man can take a pee in several other places rather than a loo, far more easily than a woman can — and what’s more, it’s accepted.

The pee debate for me began when a male friend of mine (who shall be nameless but lives in Burton Bradstock) posted on Facebook about seeing two woman on a country road squatting down, baring their backsides, to pee on the side of the road.  They were, I told him, obviously desperate and he had no idea how difficult it can be sometimes, for a woman to find anywhere to ‘go’. I told him that, when I was out walking the dog, I often found it impossible to find a place where I could hide away and not to be spotted, where there would be enough room etc. If I were a man it would be so much easier. No, stinging nettles to worry about, no panic about snakes, rodents or other small wildlife, that might be lurking in the long undergrowth etc., etc., His sister was with us at the time of this discussion (she shall also be nameless, but lives in North Devon) joined in the conversation and with great gusto said, ‘Oh but you must get a Shewee!’

‘A what?’

‘It’s a gadget that you can use to have a wee like a man.’

Well, I thought, I must get one of those. So duly got on to Amazon and ordered one with a carrying box. The first time I used it, it wasn’t too bad, but it did feel very weird and there was some leakage. Also it was quite bulky to carry in my bum bag. I discussed this whole thing with another friend, (who will also be nameless but comes from Bristol). She thought it a brilliant idea for camping, walking the dog and using some unsavoury public lavatories. She of course, because she’s like that, bought a more superior one called a Whizz Freedom. It was pliable and small and comes with a discreet carrying bag rather like a pencil-case.

‘I must have one of those!’ I declared. Quickly ordered on and then I took it out on my next long dog walk.  

DISASTER!! I should have practiced with it first as I found it so pliable it wasn’t effective enough and I ended up with wet knickers and wet trousers and I was only half way round my walk! I might as well have just wet my pants! Lesson learnt, I went back to the Shewee so that I could practice with the Whizz Freedom at home.

Alas and alack…today, whilst out on my 6k walk, I inevitably needed to pee after 3k, so I went into my usual hidey-hole, which is through a gate and round the corner a little bit. I stuck my walking stick through the handle of the dog lead, so she was ‘tethered’ so to speak and prepared to pee. A few feet away on the road I had just stepped away from, a woman walked past with a dog that barked at Jpeg, who duly barked back and pulled on her lead threatening to escape! I was interrupted at the most awkward time and yet again had to walk home with my dog walking trousers soggy. I think I’m going to give up and just squat in the corner of the field and hope that the man from Burton Bradstock isn’t lurking somewhere close or out in his car disguised as a driving school instructor!

Jpeg Tethered

Jpeg, patiently waiting whilst tethered, it didn’t last…

Note Number 49. . .Why go to London when you can have art like this on your doorstep. . .

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Batten Down (one of my favourites)

Well, Bridport is on my doorstep anyway!

Before Christmas The Man and I went to the Dalí/Deauchamp exhibition at the Royal Academy. It was okay, interesting. Last night I went to the Bridport Art Centre for Dialogues concerning the land an exhibition by  artist Beverley Rouwen, and ceramicist, Douglas Reeve. I loved it. I’m no artist and I’ve not studied art appreciation but there is no doubt in my mind that my excitement towards the creations I saw in Bridport far outweighed any feelings I had for the works I saw in London. Okay, these people are acquaintances, but I have not know them long and I wouldn’t bother to write anything about it, if I hadn’t been bowled over by what I saw.

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Powersky 1

The collection is divided into three sections, Trees, Skynets and Landscapes and each part included something that I enjoyed. The harmony of the porcelain and paintings reached out to me. I’m not even a fan of ‘contemporary’ or ‘modern’ art, whatever you wish to call it, but these were nothing less than fabulous. Pity our little house and tiny walls are not really up to housing any of the installations I saw. But I can dream. . .

The exhibition is on until the 27th January, open 10am  until 4pm  Tuesday to Saturday. If you would like to know more about these two and their work then check out  Beverley’s website here and Doug’s website here.

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Powersky 2 (probably not the best angle for a photograph, but I may have been intimidated by the presence of Brendan Buesnel – the official photographer )

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A small section of ‘Were you invited?’  It’s actually 65x180cm. Love it.

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Were you invited…ceramics

Note Number 48. . .New Year Writing. . .

happy new year

I thought for 2018 I would begin by reading my diary for 2017 and was shocked to see that the things I wrote in Jan last year, would pretty much be the same as I might write this year. So…nothing has changed! I have neither advanced nor retreated down the road to my goals. At least if I did advance at the beginning of the year I was retreating by March!

writing

I am still wanting to get fitter and with that, lose a few pounds. I haven’t got anywhere near finishing either of my novels and I hardly entered any writing competitions. Having told myself that I would do loads of writing, enter as many comps as I could and that I would definitely finish one novel.   I had such good intentions back in January 2017 and I meant every word. Ah well….

THIS MUST ALL CHANGE (I got the idea of caps from that chap in the White House).

I have already entered one competition,  The Mogford Short Story Prize (thanks Carolyn) I have a deadline on Sunday for  Little Red Writers and I’m scouring the Internet to see what other comps I can find. I have seen that there is a Fish Memoir Prize with a closing date of 31st January, it’s time to dig something out and polish it up. I don’t enter these things to win, (that would be a bonus) it’s the taking part that counts and the fact that it encourages me to finish short stories and poems and not leave them hanging about half written, unedited or lost in a maze of files on my computer. I attend a couple of writing groups and the other scribblers (I hope they don’t mind me calling them that) who attend are so encouraging and helpful. This year I’m determined not to let them down. It’s great to have writing buddies but if you don’t take up their advice then what’s the point?

write on

ONWARD AND UPWARD…(there’s those caps again). Getting fit will happen, stories and poems that have been started WILL be finished and new works created – and ONE OF THOSE NOVELS WILL BE COMPLETED! I’ve said it, now let’s see if I can carry it through.

Happy New Year to all. Happy writing and happy whatever else you enjoy doing!

fitness-clip-art-50 copy

Note Number 47. . .How I remember Christmas. . .1955-1960 (approx)

family

Family Songs Around the Piano

It’s easy to become nostalgic at this time of the year. . .it was all so different when I was a kid, but is that because I was a kid? Or were things really different? Less commercial I’m sure and our expectations were way lower. . . Whatever it’s all good fun. This poem is for my brother Tony, who was often away at Christmas because he was at a choir School and had to sing on Christmas day. Also for my sister Jean,  her birthday is on the 23rd December (the day I’m uploading this). I’ve always felt sorry for her having her birthday so close to Christmas as I’m sure people used to give her a joint present. I think she should celebrate in the summertime and have an official birthday too. I’m sure I know at least one person who does that . . .

As ever, press the play button to listen or scroll on down to read. . .

When I was a kid there was much less fuss
No starting in September to beat the Christmas rush
We never got excited before the twenty-fourth
Any early preparations were of the culinary sort

Mother made a pudding and we all gave it a stirchristmasput
She’d put a sixpence in it, and a spoonful of liqueur
Nowadays the sixpence is outlawed in every pud
As you might choke, or break a tooth and that would not be good

Father carved the turkey, mother drank the sherry
Brother played the piano and we sang, all warm and merry
Sister talked about her boyfriend, though I think she told me fibs
And I laughed out loud and ate so much until it hurt my ribs

Crackers and silly hats were the order of the day
You read the joke aloud before you threw it straight away
Mother kept all the bits of tinsel and crepe paper
She always said she would find a use for it, sooner or later

On Boxing day, we ventured up the M1 in our Ford
The journey took ages, as long as going abroad
We’d visit Auntie Florence in her big house with an Aga
Tea and cakes in the dining room – it was a huge palaver

The table was enormous, full-size for playing snooker
With mahogany cover, and fancy cloth – it was quite a looker
Heaving with meringues, coconut pyramids and scones
My aunt never had a problem keeping up with the Jones

Other aunts and cousins were all gathered with us there
The kids all liked each other, we didn’t really have a care
The grown ups used to send us in the garden for a run
‘Go and see the rabbits’ they’d say, ‘it will be so much fun’

The journey home to Ruislip was done well after dark
My dad driving recklessly, thinking it would be a lark
I vowed one day I’d have an Aga so that I could make and bake
Those mouth-watering meringues and other sumptuous cake

Ninette Hartley © December 2017

christmas tree

 

As an adult, I did manage to have an Aga for a while and it made the most wonderful meringues. . . meringue

 

Note Number 46…Office Christmas Party…

party-time

My second Christmas poem is based around a party that many of us will have attended at least once…  It’s probably not very PC but then office parties often aren’t…

Click the play button to listen or see below to read the text: –

I should just mention before I go that I forgot to bring in the Mistletoe. . . But, maybe that will be for the best, for today, a kiss underneath it could lead to arrest. . .

mistletoe

Office Christmas Party

When the boss popped the cork on a bottle of pop
Freda from lettings was already half-shot.
that chap from accounts, mild-mannered Jim
has got something disgusting stuck on his chin
it could be an olive – whatever – it’s gross.
that secretary Jane is getting quite close
she picks off the green thing with certain aplomb
flicks it over her shoulder where it lands, splat on Tom
now he’s had a few drinks he’ll be telling wild tales
I’m surprised he fancies that girl from sales
I rather thought he would lean the other way
and grab the chance to get close to Ray
Alison Bartlett adjusts a plentiful bust
puckers her lips and oozes with lust
the music is on, getting louder and faster
she’s looking around – who will she be after?
not too steady on the high heel shoes
whoops! She’s made a beeline for the loos
a relief for them all except poor Bert
who’s longs for Alison every day at work
each Christmas party he waits to dive
for if there’s one thing Bert can do, it’s jive
he pounces when the song is right
they’re on the floor, he’s holding her tight
but the music changes to the Christmas conga
and Alison, as ever, is his no longer
red faces a’plenty, throughout the room
taxis are called, the party’s over, what gloom
regrets in the morning will come with hindsight
as couples slope off to continue the night
the boss is delighted – the party succeeded
some, wine, food and nibbles, all that were needed
he relaxes, sits back, gives a huge weary sigh
to his employees’ antics he has turned a blind eye
as he lifts the hanky from out of his pocket
along with it comes Alison Bartlett’s gold locket
at least, he had meant it to be for her neck
instead he’d given her a leaving cheque
now home to his wife he could go without fear
he’d resisted temptation, at least ‘til next year

© Ninette Hartley December 2017

partytime