Being Me

Things which arrived through my door today. One. This envelope, minus the card it presumably had contained, dropped on the doormat in a plastic bag, bearing the message, 'The Post Office sends its apologies should any of the contents of this package be missing.' I think it's from my brother, so I have messaged him to say, 'Was this card/non-card from you? If so, was there a mahoosive cheque in it?' One can always hope. What amused me was the Post Office's apology, which sounds tentative, as if it were only a slight possibility that the contents were missing when they know damn well they're delivering an EMPTY ENVELOPE. What's more, they deliver it in a sealed plastic bag, as though in itself an empty package is a PRECIOUS THING one should be grateful for, like one's BREATH. Two The next thing to arrive was Russell, delivering our groceries. For the first time, we'd ordered from Morrisons. We usually order from Tesco or Sainsbury...

Classic films - the Christmas versions. The Shawshank Reindeer CasaSanta A Sleigh Named Desire Santasia Bonbon and Clyde Rebel Without a Claus The Bride of Frankincense Wrapatouille Leftovers Behind Rock Scrooge Les Misteltoes The Texas Chainsaw Midnight Mass Ding Dong 101 Decorations Lord of the Ribbons The Bird's Not Done Frankincense and Sensibility From Russell, with love Marzi Pan Mangermouse The Mince Pie Who Loved Me Okay, I'll stop now. Hope you're enjoying procrastinating about your Christmas preparations as much as I am.

I wrote this poem about a million years ago. But I thought it might amuse you as we approach the mince pies and lashings of mulled wine festive period .... Note  the shape of the poem.                                                                                                                              DIET I went on a diet on January First. By Feb I felt quite a success. By March I was thirteen pounds lighter and could get on my little black dress. In April I stayed on a plateau, but by May I was finding it tough.  In June I had quite a few bad days. By July I had had quite enough. I didn't do much until Christmas ...

I stepped on a snail on Monday evening. It must have been a Big Daddy snail because it went 'CRACK' and then 'CRUNCH' under my shoe as though I'd stepped on a pound of nut brittle. I think I even heard it cry, 'Not yet! I haven't been on my Caribbean cruise! Or abseiled down the Shard! Spare me!' I hate stepping on snails. But this was even more significant, because I had just been to see Steinbeck's 'Of Mice and Men' - a National Theatre production which had been filmed and was showing in my local cinema. Have you read the novel? I won't completely spoil it for you if you haven't, but let's just say that two people in the novel get bones broken. And this particular production doesn't hold back on the cracking sounds. Think SNAP but not the card game. More, tree trunks being broken in a hurricane. It was these cracking sounds I was remembering as I walked down the dark alleyway JUST at the moment when the snail and I met...