Sad news here. Following a short illness, my mother-in-law Doreen died in the early hours, aged 83. Doreen had been suffering from Alzheimers for several years and was in a specialist home when a respiratory infection struck a few days ago and proved too strong for her.
The usual talk of flowers and funeral arrangements here. Things to keep us busy.
Not wholly unexpected, as Doreen had been very frail for some months, but always a shock when it finally happens.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Prang!
Took the kids to school in the car this morning. Had been planning to walk through the snow, since the side roads here are so treacherous - Warwickshire - but couldn't find boots for one idiot son, who, as soon as we started off down the road, managed to trip over and get his trousers soaked. So back in we went, and by the time we reemerged, the car was the only option.
On the way home, a journey which usually takes about three to four minutes but which took a majestic twenty-five minutes this morning, I took a right turn and found myself - and the car - sliding swan-like across a sheet of black ice. Luckily no one was in front of me, because I had no control whatsoever.
I ended up, thanks to the dodgy camber of the road, on a downhill slope, thudding to an abrupt stop against a high grassy kerb - where my first thought was, how the hell am I going to get out of this?
I eased it into reverse, and thanks to the foresight of the car driver behind, who had left me plenty of room for my spectacular skid, managed to back up the slope out of the black ice, and onto the infinitely safer slush at the centre of the road. From there, I limped home at 5 mph, a little shaken but happy to discover only a scratch on the front bumper at the end of it.
I'll be walking the kids home this afternoon though. Wet trousers or not.
On the way home, a journey which usually takes about three to four minutes but which took a majestic twenty-five minutes this morning, I took a right turn and found myself - and the car - sliding swan-like across a sheet of black ice. Luckily no one was in front of me, because I had no control whatsoever.
I ended up, thanks to the dodgy camber of the road, on a downhill slope, thudding to an abrupt stop against a high grassy kerb - where my first thought was, how the hell am I going to get out of this?
I eased it into reverse, and thanks to the foresight of the car driver behind, who had left me plenty of room for my spectacular skid, managed to back up the slope out of the black ice, and onto the infinitely safer slush at the centre of the road. From there, I limped home at 5 mph, a little shaken but happy to discover only a scratch on the front bumper at the end of it.
I'll be walking the kids home this afternoon though. Wet trousers or not.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
The better the line, the more likely it is to be somebody else's.
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
Poet is another way of saying unemployed.
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
lattice, fishnet, hessian, careen, gunny, hopsack ... the poem began to totter under the weight of its own pretention, searching in vain for the modesty of table, chair, pomegranate, sex.
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
No writer is ever 'blocked'; they're just on their way to becoming someone new. Like a postal worker.
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
Studying the classics is the quickest way to kill off a writer's last lingering hopes of originality.
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
If you can explain a poem, then it isn't a poem. If you could explain a poem, you wouldn't have to write the damn thing in the first place.
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
The truer the statement, the more you get kicked in the teeth for it.
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
Writing a good line is like setting fire to your heart and watching it burn. That's why so many experienced writers keep a marguerita on hand.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
The best advice is always about as welcome as goat droppings in your bathroom. If it sounds good to you, don't trust it.
A Short Season of Aphorisms and Other Nonsense
There is no such thing as a disinterested reviewer. The chief responses of the reviewer, in order of likelihood, are apathy, loathing and enthusiasm. Beyond those parameters, there is only a desire to get paid.
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