That's a reference to the wonderful Michael McIntyre, whose show I saw the other week. He did a whole set about how people can never believe it's October. ("It was just AUGUST! What happened to SEPTEMBER?!")
But it's true. I've let the time fly past this month with hardly a blog, because so much has happened that I've hardly drawn breath.
My daughter had a (thankfully very minor) accident in her car, I performed in the town Arts Festival, was busy at work...
WAS busy at work.
The Leg - more precisely, the Knee - had other ideas. It feels as though a rat with very blunt teeth is slowly gnawing through the bone. I've had a blood test for Rheumatoid Arthritis. I'm hoping it's not that, though I have been ignoring some mild symptoms for the last few years.
I've now had four weeks off work with another sick-note until November 9th. The pain, I explained to the doctor, was about an 18 on a scale of 1 - 10. (And this from a woman who had both her babies without any painkillers at all).
I'm hobbling round like a good'un, and am considering writing to ask if I could be the New Face of Stannah Stairlifts.
The doctor isn't quite sure what's wrong, but I'm beginning to accumulate fluid on the knee and the pain isn't easing at all, quite the reverse. He muttered something about sending me to Someone Who can Do Something.
SO - my challenge in all this is to see how it fits into my wonderful 50th year...
Not difficult, actually, given that life is never predictable and it's perfectly okay in my book to include some hard times in a wonderful year. So what if I LOOK 85 as I limp through the supermarket? I'm still alive and happy to be so!
I've had time to type up most of my poetry, which will make it easier to send to people and put online. I'm thinking about the future, and taking time to read. I'm making the most of this opportunity to rest and just Be. I can't do any housework which involves crouching or bending, as I can't guarantee being able to get back up (my daughter had to help me last time, and I was crying with pain before I managed to stand back up!)
But - there's always the memories of Michael McIntyre to see me through!
So - I'll just see what happens. It's different, that's for sure.
Friday 30 October 2009
Sunday 4 October 2009
For the little girl in Costa Coffee this afternoon...
I wrote this poem this afternoon in a coffee shop, watching the most beautiful little girl - she looked as though she'd been polished with Baby Brite! I hope you like it.
She sits in a high chair,
Fist holding tightly
The crumbs from the biscuit
Her daddy just gave her.
A CRASH in the corner,
Now everyone’s looking;
A flustered young waiter
Picks glass off the floor.
She gazes a moment,
Then back to her biscuit –
Pays no attention,
Gets on with her task.
She’s only ten months, yet
Has learnt very early
To mind her own business
And do as she’s asked.
But now she is glancing
Across to the kitchen
Her eyebrows are question marks,
Mouth a wide ‘O’.
The grown-ups are chatting,
The noise is forgotten
Except by the baby,
Who’s wanting to know
“What was it? Who did it?
And why did it happen? And
What made the noises? And
How does glass break?”
She catches my eye, and
A look of intelligence
Flashes between us –
And that’s all it takes.
A brief recognition
Of something in common;
I smile, and she grins
As she chews on a spoon
My heart melts, and I whisper,
“Enjoy it, dear baby!
It goes oh, so quickly!
Have fun with your life,
You’ll be all grown-up soon!”
Then I feel someone looking,
Glance over my shoulder
And see an old woman
With snowy white hair.
She nods, and her eyes
Send me the same message,
“Enjoy being young! Have some fun if you dare!”
She’s smiling and beautiful,
Calm and serene, with
Long years of happiness
Etched on her face.
I look, and am heartened,
And know beyond doubt
That the key to growing old
Is to do it with grace.
Never stop questioning,
Let curiosity
Keep you alive and
Thirsting for more.
And don’t let regrets
Quench your pride in maturing –
Welcome each day
As it knocks on the door.
Live like a baby,
With hope and abandon,
Use all your energy
Learning to play.
Don’t use half-measures,
Cram buckets of laughter
As many as possible
Into each day.
She sits in a high chair,
Fist holding tightly
The crumbs from the biscuit
Her daddy just gave her.
A CRASH in the corner,
Now everyone’s looking;
A flustered young waiter
Picks glass off the floor.
She gazes a moment,
Then back to her biscuit –
Pays no attention,
Gets on with her task.
She’s only ten months, yet
Has learnt very early
To mind her own business
And do as she’s asked.
But now she is glancing
Across to the kitchen
Her eyebrows are question marks,
Mouth a wide ‘O’.
The grown-ups are chatting,
The noise is forgotten
Except by the baby,
Who’s wanting to know
“What was it? Who did it?
And why did it happen? And
What made the noises? And
How does glass break?”
She catches my eye, and
A look of intelligence
Flashes between us –
And that’s all it takes.
A brief recognition
Of something in common;
I smile, and she grins
As she chews on a spoon
My heart melts, and I whisper,
“Enjoy it, dear baby!
It goes oh, so quickly!
Have fun with your life,
You’ll be all grown-up soon!”
Then I feel someone looking,
Glance over my shoulder
And see an old woman
With snowy white hair.
She nods, and her eyes
Send me the same message,
“Enjoy being young! Have some fun if you dare!”
She’s smiling and beautiful,
Calm and serene, with
Long years of happiness
Etched on her face.
I look, and am heartened,
And know beyond doubt
That the key to growing old
Is to do it with grace.
Never stop questioning,
Let curiosity
Keep you alive and
Thirsting for more.
And don’t let regrets
Quench your pride in maturing –
Welcome each day
As it knocks on the door.
Live like a baby,
With hope and abandon,
Use all your energy
Learning to play.
Don’t use half-measures,
Cram buckets of laughter
As many as possible
Into each day.
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