Cold and damp

Viking, Forties, Cromarty

SW 6 to gale 8, light showers

Cold and damp – like the socks found in trainers after cross-country run

Forth, Tyne, Dogger, Fisher

W Gale 8, rain at first

Cold and damp, like Sunday’s muddy football boots left by the door

German Bight, Humber, Thames

NW Severe gale 9, squally showers

Cold and damp – like Tuesday’s rugby kit dropped in the hall

Dover, Wight

NW Storm 10 later, rain

Cold and damp – like Monday’ swimming trunks forgotten in the car

Portland, Plymouth, Biscay

N 6, drizzle

Cold and damp – like the stack of waterproofs hanging by their hoods

Sole, Lundy, Fastnet

W 5, light showers

Cold and damp - like the grubby golf towel clipped to the bag

SE Iceland

W 2, sunshine, clear

Warm and dry – like all the clean kit ready for next week

BBC My Story

I have entered the BBC's My Story competition with "Running High"

Laptop cat

I’m sad and lapless. There’s twittering not purring, and friends are on facebook. Please tell them laps are for cats not laptops.

Sounds, smells, subways and statues - the 2nd City of London Race

Looking down from St Paul’s they could see matchstick men in purple and green in Paternoster Square. Looking up we could see the sun glinting gold on the top of the Portland stone column in the square. There was a shepherd and his sheep by the start.

It was surreal to be running around a city closed for the weekend but bustling with festival atmosphere and surprised tourists. We went south towards the river, avoiding an unexpected crane and the out of bounds “survivors will be disqualified” dual carriageway. Down towards the wibbly-wobbly bridge past clattering skateboarders. Along the river bank and a chance to take in quick glimpses of boats dressed overall for the Thames festival. Then slightly puzzled by going up steps to a control at an underpass junction. But this was barely a warm up for the level challenges to come.

Out onto a street to be buffeted by clown-clad revellers with party blowers and jangled by pneumatic drills. Through metal gates into another world - and the tranquillity of the Inner Temple. Dodging slow drifts of students doing a treasure hunt. Back out to labyrinth-like passageways with geometrical courtyards. This is how I remember last year and this is fun!

But here comes the Barbican. A total of five different levels apparently. Going up to get down via disinfectant-smelling stairways. Footsteps pounding out loud as we ran over a metal grating to reach a stretch of the London Wall - did the Romans really build that bit? Notice the planner standing here, maybe watching for transgressors. Up and up steps I’d just descended to get across a walkway, bemusing people hanging around chatting; later I found out you could get through by going under. Past some amazing architecture in this shiny, angled landscape. Was beeped at by a bike, and helped and heckled by builders: “they went that way, love!” Got dizzy running around the round Museum of London but escaped and found my way to the Old Bailey.

I like this sort of puzzle. Whilst I miss the smell of conifers and the texture of the forest, there are no depressing depressions or tricky pits. This is a landscape of glass and stone with elegant sweeping steps and stunning statues. I’ve learnt to spot the steps and subways, now I must judge when to go up and when to go round!

The smell in the city has become curry and coffee and the final few short legs seemed to have more uncrossable barriers than ever to test our weary brains. At last two mirrored statues have the final control sandwiched between them. After the finish, we sit and reflect by the cool water trickling down the Paternoster Square column. The sheep and the shepherd haven’t moved – they’re made of bronze.

Cathedrals and Galleons

Suzie and 6-year old Will are pedalling around N America by now. This piece is about Suzie's momentous decision to sell everything and travel.
http://lindastories.wordpress.com/2009/09/08/cathedrals-and-galleons/

Fib poems

High
Dry
mountains
but monsoon
in India as
air climbs over Himalayas

Dull
Green
Hairy
Ovoid shaped
Cut in half its art
What is it? It’s a Kiwi fruit

Too
Short.
Can’t see
Performance,
so watch instead tall
lady’s phone as she records it

The salt marsh feast

Across the salt-marsh, waves of golden reeds rise and dip in the breeze.
Packed densely as a farmer’s field of wheat, the reeds bear bountiful seeds.
Insects come in abundance and feast upon these reed seeds.
Rare and beautiful birds fly in to feed upon the insect feast.
And preying on these birds, long-lensed cameras ready to shoot,
Green-booted, flat-capped, tweedy, twitchers feast only their eyes.

Vicious Sid's Revenge

See my stories blog for a new fairy story http://lindastories.wordpress.com/2009/07/11/the-cat-had-it-coming/

Do you remember?

Mum, do you remember that pink alpine?
The one you gave me years ago
What alpine dear?

It’s OK Mum, it’s still alive
I found a root clinging on to life
The one with tiny pink flowers
Do you remember?
It made a healthy clump in our last garden
I dug it up and moved it with us
Whenever I saw it I thought of you

It’s OK mum, you’ll be fine
Parkinson’s, he said, remember?
You shuffle with uneasy steps
You hold your own hand to stop it trembling
The hands on the clock no longer tell you the time

I’d forgotten about that pink alpine
I planted it amidst the shrubs and neglected it
The shrubs grew strong and smothered it
But just the other day, while pruning back, I spotted it
A bare little root and a few leaves
I moved it to a sunny spot and now it’s grown some flowers again
Whenever I see it I think of you

Is it OK mum?
Are you settled where you want to be, so far away?
Your sheltered flat, nice ladies,
daily lunches, shared jig saw puzzles
No need to walk far

Its thriving now
I’ll keep an eye on it and keep it safe
Whenever I see it I think of you

Runners in the sun

My 100 word "nano fiction" is to be published by Leaf books!
See story here: http://lindastories.wordpress.com/2009/01/20/runners-in-the-sun/

Bluebells

I meandered happily on my way
to Grasmere via Loughrigg Fell
When all at once I spied a haze,
a purple peal of spring bluebells,
ringing in peace in the morning breeze
near the rocky path along the fell

Blue heads bobbing, clappers mute,
en masse an iridescent violet hue,
amidst the brown unfurling whorls
of knee-high bracken’s baby fronds
A purple peal of spring bluebells
Seen from the path on Loughrigg fell

Laid out below is Grasmere Water -
a jig-saw vista in green and blue
Beyond the bluebells’ violet hue
A swimmer stroked from shore to shore
a doggie paddled paw by paw
The terrace view half down the fell

The route zig-zagged down through the woods
It was cooler, darker, but the silver shine
of mirrored waves danced through the trees
as Grasmere water’s kissed by the breeze
which wafted wild garlic - repulsive smell
as I followed the path at the foot of the fell

Beside the lake, I saw the road
bringing tourists in by the coach load,
to visit William Wordsworth’s home
My purple peal of spring bluebells
tolled out in silence from the fell
and asked “Where are all the daffodils?”

Would like to meet...

A cut-up from real postings:
Petite charming blonde likes food, with cute self baggage, into country age, blue swimming and spiritual shopping seeks tall, classical latin partner for earth fire, dark films and ends away!

Guildford Castle

Where moss grows memory lingers
We used to come here and play hide and seek
But now the keep fence, like gappy teeth
Seems quite insubstantial given the drop

Crisp-edged beds with floppy pansies
Perfect primulas with kale-like leaves
Cat-kin droopy blooms sway on the breeze
Like tassels on a dancer’s dress

The old castle walls tell a geological story
A school photo of flints all lined in rows
These tough stones standing up to a world
That has worn away the soft white chalk

Quotes by Isaac Newton

"I am only a child playing on the beach, while vast oceans of truth lie undiscovered before me."

"Tact is the knack of making a point without making an enemy."

"Men build too many walls and not enough bridges. "

"If I have been able to see further, it was only because I stood on the shoulders of giants."

Sad Rock Villanelle

I look at you but in your eyes I see my dad
As you play your guitar in front of this crowd
I watch you play and I feel pleased but sad

I look at you but in your face I see your granddad
As your fingers pick the lead fast and loud
I look at you but in your eyes I see my dad

The bass player’s dull, the drummer’s mad
Your fast-fingered solo captivates the crowd
I watch you play and I feel pleased but sad

He played and wrote songs too, did dad
If he could see you he’d be so proud
I look at you but in your eyes I see my dad

You are so confident, any mum would feel glad
Even if my insides vibrate as it’s so loud!
I watch you play and I feel pleased but sad

My tears are not for you - don’t feel bad
Its dark, I’ll lose myself here in the crowd
I look at you but in your eyes I see my dad
I watch you play and I feel pleased but sad

Snow Sestina

Introduction: This is a form in which the end words in each line form a sytematic pattern for each verse - see Wikipedia.

Overnight the north wind changed our world to white
No buses, no bin men, no cars on the road
Its 12 inches thick this beautiful snow
It covers roofs, roads and trees it’s a tranquil scene
Life has ground to a halt – there is even no school
Let’s go for a walk and take some photos

The BBC received a record numbers of photos
As we show off our beautiful world in white
Kids go sledging, more fun than school
Feet make a channel as they trudge down the road
The downs are transformed into an alpine scene
They are even skiing and snowboarding in the freak fall of snow

Its 18 years since we’ve had this much snow
The snow on the Acer makes a stunning photo
Wherever you look it’s a Christmas card scene
With buildings and landscape all iced in white
A snow plough made waves of snow by our road
Day two, minus six and there’s still no school

Free from homework, routine and school
They spend all day sledging in the snow
Then trudge wearily back down the road
A press photographer was on the slopes taking photos
To be a centrefold in black and white
Hats, scarves and sledges in a Dickensian Scene

Stoke Park is a weird Arctic scene
Kids have been building instead of going to school
They've made igloos and candle-lit towers of white
Fantastic constructions just made out of snow
My desktop is now my best snow photo
Traffic is starting to creep along the road

Wet boots, soggy clothes as they return down our road
The laundry room is a depressing scene
Piles of washing - not a pretty photo
I think they’re ready to return to school
They’re beginning to tire of playing in the snow
Getting cold and hungry - pinched faces all white

Relief - we have reached the end of the white road
Our snow scene is washing away in the rain
School is open and sledging photos are in local paper

Poem commended

Just heard today that my poem Sad Rock http://write-track.blogspot.com/2008/12/sad-rock.html has been commended by Writers' Forum Magazine and I will be named in the April issue. How exciting for my first competiton entry!

Porridge, pancakes and packed lunches

It’s 7.00 o’clock in the morning
And outside it’s still very dark
It’s just a normal school day
So get up, get dressed and start

“Hello cat, you’re next I promise”
Boys’ breakfasts first then you
Put a large pan full of porridge
On the gas to start heating through

Begin to empty the dishwasher
The bottom rack of pans and plates
Stir porridge; get juice, “Meeeow”
“Oh cat, I’m sorry you’ll just have to wait”

Dish up and shout “porridge is ready”
Get out scales to weigh food for the cat
Such a pain to be measuring his rations
But the vet said “this cat’s getting fat”

Back to dishwasher, start on the cutlery
When the bread maker sounds a beep beep
Mmm the smell of fresh bread is delicious
All done automatically while we’re asleep

Take out loaf, now it’s time for the pancakes
Whisk up flour, eggs and milk in a jug
While the batter cooks on the first side
Return to dishwasher – bowls, glasses and mugs

The pancake is sizzling nicely
Toss it? I’m just not that brave!
I flip it with the aid of a spatula
And flop it out on a plate

Take a deep breath of fresh morning air
As I lob bottles and tins into crates
I’m fanatical about the recycling
I hope the neighbours are already awake!

Fill sink to wash up lunch boxes
No one remembers the day before
Attack fresh bread with electric carver
No mere knife, it’s my kitchen chain saw

“Where’s my tie?” “Where you left it.”
“PE kit?" "Airing cupboard - it’s clean”
Leave the boys to make their own lunches
Back outside to empty compost bin

Take off lid and chuck in the peelings
See the level's gone down quite a lot
It’s clever how those worms, bugs and beasties
Turn our waste into dark dry compost

Back in doors I sign papers and planners
Say goodbye to the boys as they go
It feels like ten but its only 8.20
And the rest of the day is my own!

Big boats in small harbours

Alfred Wallis the famous painter was born in 1855
Went to sea in a Devonport schooner as a boy aged only nine

When 20 he married an older widow and moved to St Ives
They had and lost 2 children and he loved her till she died

Sad and lonely at 70, he started painting for company
Using half empty tins of boat paint he captured the mood of the sea

Big boats in small harbours the perspective is rather strange
But the sails and ropes and boat parts are accurately portrayed

Sold his pictures wrapped in newsprint for shillings while alive
It was Wallis who started a trend for artists to move to St Ives

Now his pictures are really trendy and are exhibited in the Tate
They’ve put “Alfred Wallis Artist and Mariner “in tiles on his grave

Haiku poem

The storm felled trees in
Ninteen eighty seven, now
wood turners make bowls

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=178023
Seamus Heaney's Glanmore Sonnets - VII about the shipping forecast is particularly good.

Haiku poems

Greensand ridge, tall trees
Straight trunks, high branches, pine smell
Sun beams strike the ground

More fibs

Boys
Walk
To school
But today
Big load so drove them.
Selfish drivers, bad parking, grrr!
.............................................................

Inspired by teaching sport to 9 year olds:
“Its
naff.
Don’t want
to join in.”
“Here, shall I show you?”
“Cool, can I do it again now?”

Fib poems

Dull
Green
Hairy
Ovoid shaped
Cut in half its art
What is it? It’s a Kiwi fruit
..............................................

Marsh
Reeds
Reeds' seeds
Insects eat reed seeds
Rare birds eat insects: Twitchers watch
.............................................

High
Dry
Tibet
All the rain -
India’s monsoon:
The Himalayas are a pain

Runners in the sun

Apart from the distant clatter of a train, the only sound is the breeze in the trees and my running footsteps. I’ve left behind the muted light and pleasant musty smell of the woodland track and, as I leap down from the stile into the open field, I’m startled by intense light as if emerging from a cinema in mid-afternoon. Out in the sun, I see a tall, lean runner keeping pace with me. She’s wearing exactly the same clothes but I’m envious of how tall and lean she looks stretched out on the ground in front of me.