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Reflections 2018 w30

My anxiety has been high this week, and because of it, one has ventured out less than normal.

It was to be expected once I found out I was going cold turkey from my near max dosage of medication. The extreme stoppage was at my psychologists discretion, one found out it was stopped when picking up the repeat last friday. Don’t get me wrong, it was talked about – the stopping it – I have questioned it’s effectiveness for well over 3 years, and have wanted to end it to see if the neuropathic pain is linked to a known side effect of the medication, so yes, ending it was talked about. How they have ended it seems more to prove a point than ‘care’.

I have grumble before about how I was told at the very beginning, treatment, effective treatment, was therapy, but all that seems to be given is pills. So yeh, mouse on the wheel of a cage time again.

But when I cannot go outside physically, my mind now picks a project to do, usually painting, but not this time.

This time it is new ground…

A way one thinks my poetry can be heard how I want it to be heard, but without my fat ugly mug on camera, or being in public.

Inspired by an exhibition of  students at Staffordshire University, the whole thing just clicked at a way to do it.

However, it required me to create a model “me” to do it. The concept of my “me” has already been done with the drawing/paining of the B-WELL tree. The little wooden character is my avatar if you will. But how to do the puppet.


Cloth puppet, wood puppet, clay puppet, foam puppet, silicone puppet, and paper mâché puppets are just the beginner materials. Hand puppet, body puppet, finger puppet, stick puppet, marionette, and the scariest one of all…

The traditional “little person” ventriloquist dummy. These always give me the heebie jeebies. Don’t know why, they just do!

Well a couple were pulled out because of the “wood” of the character, but wow, what a world of puppets out there. I now want to make several types.

But back to my original one…

I bought air dried clay, to create the ‘skull’, and plaster bandage for at least the first two coats of the face. The idea was to cut the plaster bandage, when dry, off the clay to get into the workings of the mouth. To make it simple. Then the paper mâché on top, then paint gesso, then acrylics before finishing with varnish. To reduce the amount of clay required I have done this with plastic bottles…


This made it clear to me what it was I wanted to do, and it also showed me the problem I was going to have with my mouth…What type did I want to do?

The decision for that will come later…


Reflections 2018 w16

Have you ever spent twenty minutes scrubbing a snail with a toothbrush?

One feels the need to firstly explain that the snail is of the aquarium variety, and secondly I thought I threw him/her out with the water change. So there was a guilt aspect to it as well.

This snail has been through a lot really, I got the horned variety to try and stop it from being a snack for the goldfish that lived in the tank, as so many others had been before. It kind of worked, it got pulled off the glass every now and then, but that was about it, an inconvenience for the snail I’m sure, but the horns seemed to put the fish off – until next time.

I wanted the snails as window cleaners and ornament caretakers of sorts, and this they did very well.

The fish got to large for the tank so had to be moved to a new home, which meant a fresh start to the aquarium. Firstly the water was largely changed and the gravel removed to allow a layer of substrate to go down first for plant growth, this is where the mishap happened.

The snail was on the front of the glass and I was scooping from the side, the bag I was filling with the wet gravel folded outwards and spilt all over the carpet, then I went into panic mode, desperately trying to hold onto the bag – finish emptying the tank – and mop up the wet gravel. I did this and proceeded to clean the glass using the remaining water then squeezing it out into a tub inside the tank. When the tub was full it went out of the window – over the lawn.

In goes the substrate, in goes the gravel, in goes the ornaments, followed by half a tank of water. One then proceeded to plant the new vegetation, I have to admit  it will be nice to be able to have living plants in the tank again, the last tenant pulled them up for fun. The water got topped up and I ask the snail what it thinks of its refurb. That is when I notice that it is not there. Outside I go, with a torch, and spend half an hour looking for it before giving up. The snail killed, not by the fish, but by me having a carless moment.

I ‘stirred’ the gravel as much as I could, trying to ‘feel’ it, whilst not uprooting the plants, and when nothing was felt I thought there was little chance unless he surfaced the next morning. That was three weeks ago.

I told my son that I think the snail might of gone with the fish to a new home, which is plausible if it survived. On Sunday morning I took my son down to Pets at Home to buy two shrimp to place into the now very ’empty’ tank. After dinner we released the shrimp he asked if that was the snail in the corner, it was hard to tell as instead of being yellow with black stripes it was a great /black colour, but the horns gave it away. I could not tell if it was dead and the water stirring had disturbed it or it was alive.

We played a little while then checked on our new tenants, the snail now half way up the glass. He must have been hiding in the gravel I said. Two weeks it took that snail to get free from the gravelly grave.

Each time I looked into the tank it was accompanied by shame. So one got the snail out and as gently as one could possibly be – brushed the algae away with an old toothbrush, before placing it back into the tank, once again yellow and black.

So…Have you ever spent twenty minutes scrubbing a snail with a toothbrush?

I have.


ps. the shrimp got out of the tank last night, quite common it seems, I found one quite dried out in the middle of the room.

Supermarket Window… #Poem#Poetry#Prose

Supermarket window

I sit high above the path below,
warm by wall of glass.
Turn away from Friday shop,
from busy I do shy.

The others yet to cross the tills,
to reach this finish line.

Down below the wind it blows,
it dances and it swirls.
Unnoticed round the legs it plays,
of people passing by.

They wrap up well from biting cold,
though rushing for the time.

Children play in pile of leaves,
like children of the past.
Never taught this game to play,
when leafy pile tis found.

Laughing with a leafy rustle ,
such a pleasing sound.

The last of autumns golden leaves,
atop of bush of brown.
A faded mat of colours lies,
n’ covers all the ground.
Blackbird catches worms to eat,
it seems they are abound.

Squirrels in the trees they play,
jump from branch to branch.
Doing giant leaps of faith,
when fall it seems is prone.

Bouncing nests of years gone by,
perched on branches end.

And in these twigs and sticks was made,
by bird, twas once called home.
The young have long since been and gone.
And now from nest have flown.

A shoulder tapped,
it’s time to move,
my shoppers now to tend.

A § M