I've been away the past week. We stayed with a number of different friends: some his, some mine, all now ours. On the journey back home, through torrential rain at times, we reflected on the valuable lesson we'd learnt - several times over: no matter how bad things have been, or how bad they get, there is someone else experiencing life in a more excruciating way. It's not fair. That's just the way it is.

There's no poem today, for two reasons. I decided last night that, whatever time I have left, I need to spend it on other pursuits. Writing poetry served me well while I was on my own and needing an outlet for my feelings, but things have changed. Also, I am now living in a goldfish bowl of sorts, and need privacy!

So, thank you to all of you who have read my blog from Day 1, and to those that joined me along the way.

All's well that ends?

On Wednesday, in the line dancing class we were taught a new routine: one step forward, two steps back ...

Then, yesterday, I attended a garden party. The girls (of all ages!) who attend the keep fit class on a Thursday morning gorged themselves of scones and jam and cream, undoing a lot of the hard work from the previous term of exercises.

This morning, I took one step onto the scales and then took two swift steps back. How appropriate ...

The binge eater's dream

The dieter's dilemma
Faced with a party invite
Whether to join the fun
Or resist, mouth shut tight

There were scones piled high with jam
Topped with Devon clotted cream
The tooth fairy's delight
And this binge eater's dream

Next day, naked, on the scales
Ten ounces eaten in haste
Translate into ten pounds
And an inch on the waist   

Last week, I had news that one of my stories won 1st prize in the South Hams Writers' Group Annual competition. Up against 22 other stories, I was delighted with the result. Apparently, the judge liked my brevity ...

Short and sweet

I try to write stories 
Ones that will entertain
Romance, if tinged with sex
Works again and again

My goal? If I'm honest:
Make readers stop and think
Question their loyalties 
And take them to the brink

Also to bring a smile
With my audacity
But have never yet been
Accused of brevity

Having tasted success
I've a new goal to meet
I've refined my challenge:
To writing, short and sweet

Life is a two way street? One would think so? Sometimes, around here, the lanes are so narrow, there is only room for one - and you have to squeeze into a hedge to let the oncoming traffic pass.

Are you listening to me?

You talk at length of your troubles
I have heard your hopes, dreams and fears
I can answer 'yes' when you ask 
Oi! You listening to me, dear?

I smile and I reassure you
Of course, I say, I am all ears
Glued to you: the story teller
And spinner of long-winded tales

But then when I open my mouth
It seems my words fall on deaf ears
They melt in the mist that gathers
Like the froth on your pint of beer

Nothing I say seems to matter
Your eyes glaze over and you leer
Now I say to you, hand on heart
Oi! You listening to me, dear?

I went to the dentist yesterday - a new one where I now live. It was all very high tech, and I was told that there is tension in my jaw which, so the dentisit says, could account for the pains I have in my neck, occasional headaches, and so on. Apparently I grind my teeth, clamp my jaw tight and create the tension myself. It's fixable, at a price. I can have a teeth guard made, and wear it at night ... I don't like putting things in my mouth ... so I'll have to go for the alternative remedy: stop gritting my teeth!

Today's poem sums up how I feel about someone special who is, at this moment, driving in the wrong direction: away from me.

What counts

It's not how he looks
What he says or does
It's not how rich or poor
Not the size of his car
Nor any other fine part
Of his manly anatomy

I measure my man
By how good he feels 
When he takes hold my hand
While we lie side by side
How gently he touches me
As his palm caresses my thigh

And what matters most
When I think it through
As he whispers goodbye 
And starts to drive away 
When I pin my feelings down
Is that I long for his return

I am sure that tomorrow I will look back on today and accept that what happens is for the best. Today, though, I am unsettled, almost unnerved by uncertainty. Almost.

Not this year

Such a slim divide
Between yes and no
A reluctance gap
Between stop and go

Hestitation feeds
That ripple of fear
Today? Tomorrow?
Not yet. Not this year 

It rained most of yesterday. Having been away, there was a backlog of emails and other correspondence and bills to pay. We set to, without much enthusiasm. However, it's mostly done ... so we start with a clear desk today - and now the sun is shining!

Turning the corner

Yesterday's rain clouds dominate the sky
They create an umbrella of despair
Half hearted attempts at clearing the desk
Drain a heavy heart in need of repair 

The corner has to be turned, when we can
To put behind us the pain and regret
In time, it'll be just a memory
One that we're only too glad to forget

The slow sunrise brings with it a sparkle
A sure sign that this new day could embrace
The joy that belongs to all those living
Close to the edge of a fun loving space

Feel the gentle June breeze massage our minds
While the warmth of the rays caress our skin
Let's throw wide the doors and step boldly forth
Setting free the desire that lurks within

This past week has been interesting. I have been involved in a year's preparation of information with the intention of arriving at a fair settlement between two parties on a 50:50 basis. On the one side, there was a man who was willing to share, in this equal fashion, the 'spoils' of a 30-year marriage. On the other, it now transpires, was a woman who sought only revenge - although I'm not quite sure for what.

In my naivity, I assumed the court process would see through her unreasonable demands for more than 50% of the combined honeypot. Instead, I witnessed a process where 'negotiation' was made between the 50:50 'fair' position and her much higher demands. What happens is that the judge recommends the parties 'split the difference' and there is horse trading along the lines of 'you agree to my unreasonable demands or I will drag you to court for two further hearings which will cost you even more than you have already forked out ... and you'll have to wait another six months before you'll taste freedom'.

This was not a mugging in an ill-lit side street; one person was robbed by another in full view of several legal representatives and a judge who did not refer to the hundreds of pages of documentation that had been prepared in support of each party's position.

I am not impressed.

Fair's fair?

In the world of financial settlement
Where there's a lifetime of assets to share
What's crystal clear, I’m ashamed to relate
Is a legal process that’s far from fair
 
It matters not how their past lives were spent
No one cares a jot as to who left whom
Facts are unheard and no blame is attached
Stood face to face in an airless court room

It's nothing to do with justice, m'lord
Just the revenge one desires to inflict
What carries debate, what decides your fate
The counsel opines and facts contradict

Expensive lawyers act as go-betweens
Carting clients’ demands and counter claims
Their goal is clearly to run up huge bills
As blinkered horse traders, blind to your aims

So, how much are you willing to pay, sir
And just how deep are your pockets today
On offer: an end to your misery
An exit from this demeaning affray

In the end, you’ll part with more than you should
A hefty premium to stop this farce
But ill-gotten gains can’t buy happiness
And those who cheat, become the underclass

A retreat, with integrity intact
And the freedom to choose your future path
Beats the wealth of the apparent winner
In the debris of divorce aftermath

Another prompt from MoreWriting's flash Poetry group for this week is 'time travel'.

Time travel

I feel like a blind-folded bull
Set loose in a bone china shop
Bumbling, stumbling time traveller
Living life till I'm told to stop

At each sun rise, I make grand plans
I set my course, and spy my goal
But then I step forward, sadly
Into the nearest life loophole

Each night, I reflect on the day
Where was it that I went so wrong
Exhausted, I fall fast asleep 
In your arms, where I now belong

In my dreams, I greet my true friends
The ones standing strong by my side
And my foes, those who strengthen me
For the next roller coaster ride

I need my friends, of course I do
They provide companionship
Enrich my journey with laughter
Though we're never joined at the hip

But enemies, who block my path 
I owe to them the greatest debt
They make me pause, and give me cause
To rethink, and change my mind set

Today, as I face a challenge
As I steel myself for the fight
I embrace the power in me
To time travel towards the light

Today's poem is prompted by one of this week's suggestions from the MoreWriting Flash Poetry group: Going to jump.

We ('im indoors and me) spent Sunday in Bristol at a lunch party, and stayed over with our hosts for a relaxing evening before driving home on Monday morning. Our route into Bristol took us along the Avon with beautiful scenery. Our route home took us over the Clifton bridge.

At the lunch party, I heard of a lady who, in the depths of despair, threw herself off another bridge. She did not die and now lives, angrily, with her injuries.

Not just yet

Tell me, if you were going to jump
In which way would it be?
Up high into God's outstretched arms?
Or down, into the sea?

This decision making is tricky
Weighing up pros and cons
Separates the man from the boy
And the ducks from the swans

Life can be like the cygnet's dull side
'Fore her feathers turn white
But your storm clouds may disappear
In the dark sky tonight

Count all the stars in the galaxy
One by one, till you're through
Heaven is waiting for us all
But not just yet, for you

It's a week since I posted a blog entry. Where does the time go?

I look at my diary and I find it was littered with appointments. Friday's refit: manicure, pedicure, facial - the works. Saturday with the hairdresser. Sunday is blank but I know we spent the day reorganising the second bedroom to make it ready for guests arriving next weekend. Monday I worked - in fact I've clocked up 17 hours since then - tweaking some material I wrote last Autumn. I fitted in Keep Fit on Monday evening, a reflexology session with Servane on Tuesday morning, an MOT for my car on Wednesday morning and line dancing in the afternoon and now it's Thursday again ...

Diary of life

The week's broken into seven slots
With space to write what I'll do
Scribblings showing all my short-term plans
There are ticks and crosses too

I achieve almost all my tasks
Cos that's just the way I am
I set myself aims, targets and goals
Then it is done: wham, bam, mam!

I can look back on last week, last month
Even trace back to last year
I can check progress, see what's been missed
Carry it forward, no fear

If I have time, I can look ahead 
To tomorrow, what's in store
To measure the gaps in my diary
Squeeze in a little bit more

I can turn the page to view next week
It's seven long days away
I hold my breath, my fingers are crossed
The entry will read hooray

For the nineteenth should signal the end
Put paid to trouble and strife
Should bring to a close this hard fought war
So you can start your new life

In the last two days, I have observed two different people waxing lyrical - and probably many others, but these two struck a chord. Today's poem is an amalgum of the effect they had ...

Dreaming of escape

Listen to the raconteur
Perched high on a bar stool
Holding court
The practiced politician
Barely pausing for breath

Now pity the audience
Those mesmerised rabbits
Too polite
And too stunned to interrupt
Are dreaming of escape

Those that know me well will be able to imagine the frustration I have experienced in the past week. I had to spend time in a house with a TalkTalk telephone line. There was the option to TalkTalk to friends on the landline, but no Internet connection - even though there had been one in the past, albeit intermittently.

I went through the usual telephone conversations with someone purporting to be 'customer support', unplugging this, replugging that, confirming - as before when it worked - that we had filters on every line, etc etc. Eventually, I spoke to someone who sounded like he knew what he was doing. He lowered the frequency in an attempt to  connect from his end, but to no avail. However, he promised an engineer would look into it in 5-7 working days. 5-7 non-working days for me?

I was too busy with other things to take myself to an Internet cafe, and too depressed; so I have not been posting. Now, I am back home, with my BT Broadband functioning like it always does - and a mountain of emails to process!

Today's poem was posted on my blog on day 42 - it's that long since I was deprived of virtual communication. Interesting for me, this poem was written in September 2005 and signalled the point where I felt I was coping on my own. Not exactly enjoying life, but coping. I am no longer on my own - no longer managing without - and I am happy. I am one lucky lady.

Managing without

How did we ever cope
Before we had the car?
Now, we can travel yonder
Here and there, near and far
But have we lost sight
Of the joy of walking
Standing still, breathing the air
And taking time to stop and stare?

How did we ever cope
Before links to Broadband?
Slow connections, costly calls
Sending messages across the land
But have we lost sight
Of the need to go off line
To read a book to the bitter end
And to talk, face-to-face to a friend?

How did I ever cope
Before you and I met?
You turned my world around
Inside out and upside down, and yet
I think I lost sight
Of the person I needed to be
Existing in my own space, following my own plan
Managing without a man

Bank Holiday weekend and the weather is wet and windy, or misty with no wind which is even worse for the sailors trying to compete in an Open meeting here.

Today's poem - or 2-verse fib - is a new challenge for me. See The Times article on this latest poetic form.

You fibber!

And
Then
Wonder 
What on Earth's
The point of fibbing?
Why lie, when you can tell the truth?

Tomorrow, if I get time, I might turn my mind to the cadae form and be counting letters instead of syllables: 314159265358979... That'll have me going round in circles, no doubt?

My grandson is now three and I have one calendar for each year, charting his progress through the lens of his dad's camera. It's the best Chrirstmas present: it's with me for the whole year and I look at it at least once every day. Rather than just gaze at his smiling face, what I'd really like to do is to hug him tight. However, in a small way, the calendars make up for being so far away from him.

Old calendars

The day you were born
We partied in style
Photographs galore
To capture your smile

And so it went on
Cataloguing you
My precious darling
You're my daily view

These old calendars
Each one a surprise
Twelve pages to turn
Bring tears to my eyes

Flashing can wake subconscious thoughts. Here's a flash I wrote for this week's prompts on the MoreWriting's Flash Poetry forum.

Within it, I recognise several images that have emerged around me of late: the dry stone wall that is being built not far from where I sit, the endless battle against weeds in the garden, the walks we go on which involve steep climbs and often inclement weather, how situations worsen, a book someone else is reading, and how accidents happen while reparing dinner using too-sharp knives. What a pot pourri? And all triggered by the prompt: whet stone.

Whet stone

Whet stone, dry wall
Roses bloom, weeds grow
Uphill climb, foot fall
Rain storm and then there’s snow

Toss and turn, cannot sleep
Flying high, facing death
Sharpened knife, cutting deep
Curséd flash: my last breath

Slept late this morning - needed it. Been suffering with some virus for a few days - it makes me giddy, and not with excitement.

The sun was shining - a good start after all the rain we've been having. Yesterday's commissioning of the Salcombe lifeboat was a damp affair, but the town still came out to give The Baltic Exchange III a good send-off.

And today, making the most of the fine weather, we have finished planting up the pots on the balcony. We should have a magnificent show in the months ahead - so long as we don't have a late frost?

Coincidentally, 'late frost' was one of the four prompts set in MoreWriting's Flash Poetry group, and here's what I wrote ...

Late frost

We were many years married
For me, life together meant
A home, good friends, and children
Our time, in harmony spent

But I failed to see the truth
To understand how you felt
Didn’t expect this late frost
I wonder if it will melt

Is it too late for us both
To pick up where we left off?
Or should we now separate
And accept: enough’s enough?

I received another bunch of flowers yesterday; the lounge is beginning to look like a florists' ...

Coming home

Driving the narrow lanes
The first sight of the sea
Stirs waves of emotion
Sure where you want to be

Eager hands, circled waists
We draw each other near
A hello kiss, a smile
We brush away a tear 

We fall back into step
With renewed energy
To trace our loving path
The future: you and me

I'm glad I took the time to sunbathe the day before yesterday. It's been raining on and off ever since and the temperature has dropped. I've put my bikini back in the drawer.

Snatched sunshine

Moments when the sun shines
The world's a happy place
So, stamp them on your heart
Put a smile on your face

The sky will darken soon 
Rain will come tumbling down
You'll need your memories
Then, to ward off your frown

And when life's too weary
When time's slipping away
This store of snatched sunshine
Will warm your final day

It's funny how some days turn on a sixpence. At nine, I waved goodbye to someone special, determined to spend - in a constructive way - the time between now and when he returns. I went straight to my laptop. Plenty of work to do. Turned the radio on and let the music and chatter provide a backdrop.

Although I was making good progress, the aching void was growing and I was contemplating making a cup of coffee to break the working stint, when the doorbell rang. Flowers! I had done someone a good turn - as you do - and they decided to thank me with a bouquet of spring flowers. We have plenty of vases, just in case the man in my life decides to tell me how much he loves me (or how sorry he is, if he's upset me!) ... but I really must enrol on a flower arranging course.

Anyway, I now have to tidy the lounge - and clear the dining table of papers and other debris - so that the flowers can take centre stage. Yes, I have plenty to do ...

Surprise, surprise

The doorbell rings
Now who can it be
The local florist
With a bouquet for me

For a moment I'd thought
They were from my man
To say he's missing me
As only he can

But this gift from a friend
Which came out of the blue
Was a wonderful surprise
And a welcome thankyou

Not sure where this one came from. I guess I am angry - spoiling for a fight.

Forgotten vows

Drowned sorrows
Do nothing to quench
A man sized thirst
For power and retribution

His crumpled clothes
And blooded nose
Fist first, an apology
For forgotten vows