The power of apology
9 years ago
Saturday, 3 October 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
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/
http://lindastories.wordpress.com/2009/09/08/cathedrals-and-galleons/
Friday, 4 September 2009
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
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
Sunday, 16 August 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, 11 July 2009
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
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
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