Being Me

My husband bought me one of these for my birthday last April. Beware. This is the most dangerous piece of kitchen equipment known to man.  I've written a poem about it. Addiction I fear I am addicted to a substance - may need a doctor for some quick advice. This substance is so tempting, I can't help it. One portion of it just will not suffice. The minute I indulge I sense euphoria. I want to tell the world, to raise my voice, and yell, 'I so love cheese and onion toasties. I admit it. Toasties are my drug of choice.' The instant I think, 'Cheese and onion toastie!' My mind begins to tease and play some tricks. Whatever I am doing, I must drop it and get into that kitchen for a fix. I'm grating cheese so fast, I grate my fingers but nothing stops me once I'm in the zone. I'm chopping onion like there's no tomorrow ignoring email, Twitter, Facebook, phone. I'm lathering the butter on the slices as though I'm...

My grandmother is 95. I visit her once a week in a care home. This week, I came away from the visit grateful for some lovely carers who were working with the elderly there in a compassionate and sensitive way. It's not always the case. Before she went to the care home, I used to visit her in her own flat, where she lived alone. Week by week, it was clear that she was deteriorating and would need more care eventually. I wrote this short poem about her at that time in response to the challenge to write a 'list' poem. Any of you who have elderly relatives might find it resonates. And if you like writing poems, trying a list poem is worth doing. Crossed out Stains on your blue cardigan.  Hymnal tones of horseracing on the TV.  One Hermesetas, lost.  Your leg bandaged like a Pharoah's. A teacup, brown around the rim.  Crumbs. Discarded news.  Blank crossword puzzles. Tablets.  Monday.  Tuesday.  Thursday? Denials of naps.  A ...

I was out for a walk this morning and saw a man bring a vacuum cleaner out of his house and park it at the top of his drive. I have no idea why. Perhaps he was taking it to be mended and was about to load it into his car. Anyway, he parked it, and went back into the house. As I walked past the house, the vacuum cleaner, which was on tiny wheels, began to take on a life of its own, as though it had waited all this time for freedom, and made its way down the path which had a slight incline. It started slowly and picked up speed. I swear it took a sneaky look behind it, like a wayward child would. What would you have done if you'd seen this happening? I stood there watching it. It was halfway down the path when the man came back out, saw what was happening, raced down and grabbed it before it got on a bus to Stratford and had a day out or left the country for a new life in Bolivia. The man looked my way, but pretended not to see me. He looked sheepish, as though it were a ...

I've learned recently that silent discos are a thing. Everyone puts headphones on and dances around to tunes of their choice, as in this picture. This is the best idea ever. SO many advantages over normal discos. I will list them.  1. No one will ever know that you are dancing out of rhythm, even if you are to the dance floor what atrial fibrillation is to the human heart. 2. You're not reliant on a DJ choosing decent songs. It's so frustrating when they play two classic Motown numbers so that you get into your boogie, and then a song which means suspending yourself in the air for three seconds and coming down on the offbeat. 3. Everyone's dancing on their own, so there's no need for that existential angst when others seem to be dancing in pairs or with friends, and you're bobbing away unilaterally like a ship come adrift from the Armada, pretending you totally meant to be lost and lonely. 4. If you keep to silent discos at home to liven up your p...

It seems like an ancient craft now, akin to basket-weaving or the making of quills, but I learned to write Pitman shorthand when training for my first career as a medical secretary in 1979. (I also learned to type on traditional typewriters with their clatter and bash and 'ting' as the carriage went back and forth when one started a new line.) It's hard to imagine now, but in my role as a medical secretary, I would walk into a doctor's consulting room after he (in the 1980s, invariably 'he') had finished the morning surgery. He'd dictate fifteen or so letters to the patients' general practitioners or to other consultants, reporting on what he'd found or on a diagnosis, or referring patients on, and I'd scribble them down in shorthand in my little notebook in squiggles and dashes and lines and dots. Inevitably, mistakes were made in transcribing the letters back. Doctors often dictated so quickly - some while pacing up and down while eating...

If you haven't read Episodes 1 and 2 of the story of our holiday flood adventure and you wish to catch up on the details, they're here and here . Episode 3 - the final episode, including the arrival of the Giant Bee Dehumidifiers ... We already felt well acquainted with Wednesday when daylight broke and it was time to get up, as we'd discovered the flood at 2 am and the firemen hadn't left until 4. Neither of us had slept since then. Paul had been busy not-sleeping in a bed. I had been busy not-sleeping under a duvet in the living room. We felt disorientated. Did that all really happen? The flood .. the firemen ... the police officers ... the  surprise !  neighbour? No worries. Absent-mindedly walking onto the damp quarry tiles in bare feet soon jolted us into the real world. And we had proof that it had not been a surreal dream in the form of a fire officer's torch. Here's a quarter of Paul, holding the torch. On his face was a look that said, 'I...

If you haven't read Episode 1 and want to, it's  here Episode 2 of our tale of flooded-holiday-flat-woe ...... Four firemen followed me hurriedly into the holiday flat. (I'll say that again. I've always wanted to.) Four firemen followed me hurriedly into the holiday flat. Paul was waiting in the hall, surrounded by cascading water on all sides, as though he'd climbed into the Niagara Falls for a photo opportunity. We explained to the firemen that: 1. The flat was owned by the people upstairs. 2. The people upstairs were away on holiday. 3. There was another flat next to ours but we thought it was empty. 4. Yes, we'd dialled the number of the owners while awaiting the fire engine and had left a message, but no one had picked up the phone. 5. No, we didn't want to die. We pulled on coats and followed the firemen outside while they went to inspect the Big House. Outside the gate, the fire engine flashed its lights and kept its engine running...