RSS Feed

Monthly Archives: August 2017

Reflections…Week Thirty Three

Though the week was weighted, a lot got done. Dr’s sorted, several appointments sorted and it ended, well nearly, on a visit to the petting farm.

The Saturday was an extra sleepover for my son, bonus, and boy did he wear himself out. Not long out of a cast to alter his leg position, he went like a bat out of hell on the play areas, this level of activity is a positive thing as it has helped his leg be in far better condition than if he wasn’t.

The goats, as always here, are my favourites. Goats are second only to dogs on animals I would like as pets; if they ever cross bred a dog and a goat I would get one.  Also here are donkeys, ponies, sheep, ducks, rabbits, guinea pigs, a turkey, chickens, a couple of other birds I have no idea what they are, a pig and a couple of lamas.

All bar the rabbits and the pig could be hand fed, if you were brave enough to get near the lamas you could even hand feed them.

I was, with one of them, then the other came running over – ears back head extended, I feel I should point out that I had seen this behaviour with other people before we got over there and it had been followed by spitting, I was expecting a soaking.

Turning sideways, head facing down, like I had been taught  previously with horses, I waited. It seemed confused, but the ears were still flat against its head, the other came over for food, I would have given it some if it wasn’t for those teeth, They must protrude an inch in front of their lips, not going to chance hand feeding without a bowl. So I ended up dropping some food on the floor, backing away gracefully and staying dry. I cannot say the same however for the next people, I heard the spitting around the corner.


With “Monster”… #poetry #poem


If you have not read the first poem of the two, Without “Monster”, here is the link….

With “Monster”

Your not here for shopping,
but to me – entertain.
Metal the chariot,
so shiny – not plain.

Kicking and grabbing,
at hand and at cart.
I will go screaming,
right from the start!

Joyous the screaming,
with a laugh and a grin.
Sound effects are added,
as shopping put in.

I am now hungry,
cheese puffs my snack.
My face is covered,
I wear half the pack.

Screech around the corner,
into “that ladies” isle.
With disapproving stare,
on a face with no smile.

Quietly we go past,
with a smile and a grin.
Off to find Nanna,
what isle is she in?

She heard us coming,
from the first isle.
Asks what your doing,
Say nothing and smile.

And so it continued,
till Nanna was done.
I am her “monster”
Her little Grandson.

‘Monster’…Poem 2 of 2

A § M

Boxed… #poetry #poem


A brain is like a box you know,
filled with knowledge as we grow.
we are taught, our lessons learnt,
bridges crossed, and bridges burnt.

The box it acts like our hard shell,
for our social times – that don’t go well.
The box it fills right to the top,
cause our learning will not stop.

The box sides creak as more’s crammed in,
showing cracks and crumblin.
We can’t remove the useless stuff,
if space required – well that’s just tuff.

Until a breakdown when walls fall,
shows twisted rebar – our cell wall.
The strength it added now traps us in,
kept half the rubble – caught within.

Memories crushed, or leak on out,
not just the ones we can do – without.
Out of our reach beyond the bar,
some to recover, but it’s just too far.

So boxes should you no longer build,
with society lines, from roles we filled.
Controlling, this life, I know it seems,
but it is our life, our hopes, our dreams.

The mind 1 of 2
A § M

Reflections…Week Thirty Two

canstockphoto8630797I feel tired, not only physically and mentally, but spiritually, for want of a better word. Some times you can get good news, sometimes not so good, and sometimes the good just gets lost in the humdrum of the not so good. The latter is the last couple of months.

A trying time when you have just come of one of your medications.

Life at times feels like trudging up a really steep dry sand dune that keeps growing. Each step is a trudge and you can slide back down if the footing becomes unstable. It can be tempting to sit down for a spell, but then you remember the feeling of sand in your pants, and think better of it.

But like the dunes of Wales it can be possible for things to set root, therefore giving stability and a platform to rest up. Now the grass on the welsh dunes is sharp on the tip, so not the most comfortable place to place ones buttocks, however, when you can sit just out of the wind for a cup of tea – sand free – whilst overlooking the sea, the pin cushion bum is worth it.

So onward I plod, not looking to clutch at straws but rather, trying to reach the strength of the green grass that has planted roots, helped shape the dune and called this place home.

I shall have to sit a while when I get there.

Time to Wake… #poetry #poem

Warning this one has been classed as dark.


Time to Wake

Shiraz is my choice
of wine now to have,
for sleep I need some help.
My throbbing head,
my shattered soul,
I take tablets for the pain.

I failed you see,
but I tried so hard,
I even gave it my all.
My best – not enough,
twas never enough,
no matter how hard I tried.

We are told what’s expected – of life,
how to be.
but never how to get there,
A hint would be nice,
or being told a direction,
if ever they did, they never told me.

So I glance at the picture,
the one of my son.
Tell him I’m sorry and cry.
Sorry I failed him,
that I fought and I lost,
but defeat may offer an option.

I tell of a plan that is plotted,
a gift from the sidelines.
Half a bottle has gone.
With it’s vanishing comes weariness,
I need to sleep
to escape – all of this.

Ive made my bed
its time now to lie
and place my head on soft pillow.
My eyes, heavy, they shut,
the darkness it comes,
and with it goes all of the fear.

As the darknesses embraces
acceptance is found.
It offers a strange kind of calm.
My head it is swirling
from all the wine had.
The temperature drops just a little.

I pull up my cover;
the leaves they fall off,
the woodlice scatter from under my body.
When hypothermia starts,
my body to shake.
A spider – walks over my hand.

A § M

The Old Room… #poetry #poem

The Old Room

I used to come here,
tis a place from the past,
the walls they store a shared memory.
Of laughter and tears,
of shedding ones fears,
and building a sense of comradely.

Supplies neatly stacked,
on shelving where stored,
groups paintings adorned all the walls.
But cluttered now is,
the stock all around,
with paint splatter marring the walls.

Where once did I sit,
could not now I fit,
the table it is overflowing.
As I looked around,
no sanctuary found,
I feel as though I’m in mourning.

A § M


The Song … #poetry #poem

The Song

Throbbing of base
vibrating the air,
as guitars they are a strumming.
Sung in a gruff voice,
with a pace that is fair,
tells a tale of epic adventure.

In harmony they play,
till one breaks away,
guitar it does a sweet solo.
They return to the tale,
the crowd it goes pale,
grim warning the moral this venture.

A § M

Reflections…Week Thirty One

It’s been a whirlwind week! Dad is in hospital, again, my Son has his leg in a cast to try and stretch his… I want to say muscles but that does not sound right, my Niece has had hospital trips which meant the ‘Monster” has been visiting more and to top it off my Sister had vertigo from a wasp sting.

Out of all of them this was the one that was the most of an unusual day. A phone call for help, the doctors appointment was at the same time as the ‘monster’ finishing nursery, in 45 minutes, and I had to get there. The trip usually takes 45 minutes, so no pressure.

I got there and my niece luckily had a carer there, so she was sorted, my sister was there – kind of and I did a car swap. I swiped my small car, a panda, for a wheelchair adapted van, the big ones. Have I mentioned this was my first time driving it?

Luckily I have driven a van before, albeit a long time before, but boy did it feel big after just getting out of mine. First we head on over the the nursery to get the ‘monster’, engine started, handbrake of…where is the handbrake? If my sister hadn’t been in the van I would have ended up still sitting there now, its on the righthand side of the seat – that far down I nearly got my arm stuck.

That sorted off we go…over the first speed bump…Wobble to the left, thud, wobble to the right, wobble to the left, thud wobble to the right, thought my sister was going to upchuck on the first “hurdle”. Get to the end of the lane and I cannot feel the bite of the breaks, nothing, nothing…emergency stop! Lets all lurch forward. Still my sister kept down what was desperately trying to come up, just! The rest of the journey was approached, as it was on quiet lanes, with trepidation.

‘Monster’ picked up, slightly confused with me being in the drivers seat, and it is off to the doctors 10 minutes late. This is where I am told I will have to put my foot down when on the main road to get there as it is already after the appointment. Luckily the appointment was made by the ambulance crew who originally saw her so the doctor knew of the situation with me having to get there.

I have just noticed I have used the term luckily more than once, my sister would have at this point not classed this as being a lucky day.

We get there, slowly, but not my fault, by which time ‘monster’ is asleep, so I am allowed to eat my lunch uninterrupted by a tiny hand trying to use the force to snatch it from me. We got there late, therefore we left late, now I have 40 minutes to get my sister back home, swap cars and get back home for my sons 3 hour visit, my Mum is there to great him should I be late. Back to my Sisters and I now have 30 minutes, but my sister looks like crap, so I am transporting all of them back to Mums.

My Sister was part way through doing a blend for my Niece, liquidised food to go through her peg, basically a tube to her stomach from her belly, that needs to be done before we can leave. My Nieces carer leaves and I get the van ramp down ready, ‘monster’ is still asleep, bonus! Time to see if I can remember how my Niece is strapped down in her chair and how the chair is strapped down in the van. My niece at this point decided that she would make my life more awkward and play up, not the create holly hell play up, more the wouldn’t it be funny if I made this more a game of non cooperation.

“Are you managing in there?” came the call from the kitchen, “There is a lot of giggling”, “Done it!” with more enthusiasm than was warranted by the situation, was my reply. Off to the Van, Wheelchair in and fastened down, Sister in and Wheelchair fasted down correctly, I was so close. 20 Minutes to get there, no hope, and to top it off he arrives early.

Apparently my driving is both horrendously rollercoaster and hilariously funny, depending on whether you listened to my Sisters groans or my Nieces giggling, at one point we thought she would make herself sick. Actually that could be said for both.

As for ‘monster’, he slept through it all.

We arrived 25 minutes late and with my Sisters stomach contents surprisingly still in her stomach. My son was eagerly awaiting our arrival to show off his cast and give me a clunky cuddle. And we all trundled in.

My niece found the return drive equally funny, once we dropped her Nan off at the hospital and not her. My Sister by this time had started to feel better and the return journey was more pleasant.

Well not so much pleasant, more…less uncomfortable.

Reflections…Week Thirty

canstockphoto8630797I’m getting a Ukulele!

I had to sell my Seagull Merlin to afford it, but then I never got around to playing it anyway. It didn’t help that I didn’t know anyone else who had one.

The Jam factory, music therapy, has people that can teach me how to play the Ukulele, picking style, as the biggest hurdle I have had is not hearing the tone of a strum but rather all the notes of a strum, dependant upon the number of strings. So the idea is to utilise what my brain is trying to do and keep the notes separate and pick them individually. Maybe the tone will come later.

Originally the Ukulele was a no go, I grew up with the old films on a Black and White TV and the ones I was allowed to watch starred Laurel and Hardy, Charlie Chaplin and George Formby, whom I didn’t find funny. I was drawn more to the Marx Brothers, Abbot and Castello, and the Three Stooges, these were deemed unfunny and off the watch list when supervised. Too be honest I know that George Formby is classed as a genius on the Ukulele, but it is the Banjo Ukulele/Soprano sound coupled with his voice that, well, turned me against the idea of playing one.

Twas by chance that I came across a review for a Clearwater Roundback Baritone Ukulele that got me curious, my Youtube recommended idea formula is worn out and struggling to find me new suggestions,  so I just pressed play on random this odd pick, not really paying it my full attention.

The sound from this instrument was not what my mind recalled, the Soprano size is more akin to my memory, but there are very few videos for the Clearwater Roundbacks – period. However there was a video of the Concert size, and this is what I am getting.

I’m not really musically minded, it has become more a tool post ‘breakdown’, a way to cope with background noise. And the playing is also a tool in a way, trying to engage and exorcise a different area of the mind. No wonder I find it difficult.

One tune I won’t be playing on it is probably the one that is going to get mentioned the most – when I’m cleaning windows.

It still gives me the chills…