2009 was the year I...

Moved on and let go
Passed my driving test
Became a grade A student
Celebrated my son's 2nd birthday
Dyed my hair green
Climbed the Tor again
Went to a workshop and took a writing course with Starhawk
Made some wonderful new friends
Had a great holiday
Took Sam to the Balloon Fiesta
Dug the garden
Was obsessed with apples
Became even more interested in homeopathy
Got serious about writing poems
Looked on the bright side
Celebrated my best friend's 40th birthday
Had one of the most romantic moments of my life

HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Love, Love, Love
xxx

Recipe for Turkish Delight

Bones of a horse
Interstitial time
Synovial fluid
Roses

It’s horrible

for Marty, Mel and Jo

Today

I’ve just finished the final ‘Tidy up Time’ for today. Not to my usual standard. I normally try and put everything back in some kind of order; put all the pieces of the various games and puzzles back in the right boxes; clear the sofas of paper airplanes, drawings, wooden spoons, crumbs etc. But tonight was more the equivalent of a trolley dash and dump in the corner of the living room.

I’ve had a great day with Sam. Today we floated to Bristol in the red and blue stripey hot air balloon; drove in the blue and silver car; played golf, football and tennis. We built and zoomed rockets and decorated Christmas trees, had a tea party and went to see the oak trees down the road. I watched Sam 'rollerblade' across the bathroom after his bath.

Bookended as ever with music, he pulled some fantastic guitar poses with his tennis racket this morning to ‘Pump It Up’ by Elvis Costello. And tonight was demanding to hear ‘Surf Safari’ by the Beach Boys. Not bad for a quiet day where we barely left the house.

Sam’s imagination and creativity seem to be coming on in leaps and bounds and I am trying to encourage it as much as possible but it’s hard to keep up with him sometimes. Last night he insisted that he had to sleep with the ‘surfboard’ he was playing with in the bath aka Granddad’s nail brush. A friend of mine very wisely said to me after I had Sam to “choose your battles”, so I decided not to fight this one. I did go and remove it once he was asleep though…

The lurgy which I’ve been ignoring all day has finally hit me and it feels like someone is treading glass into my throat. I still managed to do singing and ballet dancing to Christmas carols, read three stories and sing Sam’s bedtime song twice but I am now officially done. Now is the hour to load up on manuka honey, hot lemon and ginger with a nip of calvados, and head for bed.

I am very, very happy.

Oulipo!

Ouvroir de littérature potentielle, or the workshop of potential literature was founded in 1960, and is a loose gathering of (mainly) french speaking writers. They are interested in creating works using constrained writing techniques.

I've tried two Oulipo-style writing exercises and both have pushed my writing in new directions. One produced a new character and the other a new perspective on an old obsession.

For more information go here:

http://www.oulipo.net/

http://www.nous.org.uk/oulipo.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oulipo

Black Box Recorder

Black box recorder,
I can’t carry you around with me anymore-
you are too heavy.
The weight of you is dragging me down.
It is time to put you in a safe place
where I can access you from time to time,
when I need to.

I phone up the self storage company
and I pay for a small unit.
I order a cab to take us there.
I have a padlock and a key which I take out of my pocket.
I fill out the paperwork and sign my name,
Then I am shown where to go.
I open the door,
It is a silver cell: safe, dry, not too warm or cold.
Your lights blink...

Black box recorder,
Don’t worry, I’ll be back-
you will continue to record my successes and struggles.
You are treasure and wisdom as well.

Then I say goodbye,
I shut the door and click the lock,
I put the key in my purse,
I leave.
I am cleared for takeoff-
The future is light.

This is a poem I wrote a year ago. It marked a big change in my life at a time when I was having bereavement counselling and learning to leave the past behind. It also marked a point where my writing changed. I can't say exactly why but maybe it just became more honest. I would happily pull this to pieces now and re-write it but I am putting it here in its original finished form for posterity. A lot has happened since I wrote this and I have much to be thankful for. At the time my tutor said it was as if I had walked away from disaster unscathed. I think it is more accurate to say I survived, gained some valuable insights and then moved on.

Anything is possible.

Fabric

Burrowing under the duvet with a teddy tucked under one arm, your cold feet on my legs.

First cup of coffee.

Your surprised smile as “Rock Around the Clock” hits the car stereo half way round Tolworth Roundabout.

Feeling torn as I leave you at nursery,

Feeling relieved to know I can leave you there and you will be fine.

A quiet hour to dye my hair green and get organised. Blessed indeed.

A woman at the door selling organic compost, who remembered my mum, was surprised to see me, shocked to hear of her death three years ago. Still remembered ,Mum, still remembered.

A crazed half hour of trying to print out poems and get out of the door: lots of swearing.

Hellos and How are yous from friends after an intensive one to one playful weekend with my beloved 2 year old son ends.

Mistaken for being in my twenties by a fellow student – she could not believe I am 39.

Two drafts of poems I am happy to read aloud. The promised land.

Each day a shimmer and a change in the fabric. Weft and warp.

Trees

"When you hug a tree, a tree never refuses. You can rely on a tree. It is dependable. Every time you want to see it, every time you need its shade, it is there for you."

from "A Pebble for Your Pocket" by Thich Nhat Hanh