Thursday, 21 July 2011
It was then that my driving instructor's words from many moons ago flashed into my mind: "Always look where you're going." If I'm going to wheel over something, ten to one it'll be because I'm going backwards. Have you noticed how many drivers look straight ahead when they're reversing? It's not just me then.
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
They say wind, rain and storming’s
The result of global warming,
Though, for the life of me,
I can’t see how;
With radiators blaring
And with all the layers I’m wearing,
I feel rather like
A bloated cow.
They said we’d have a scorcher,
But this Summer is cold torture,
If only they could get it
Right or wrong.
This so called scorching Summer
Has been a soggy “bummer,”
So I think I’ll skip the country
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
I MUST BE HAPPY
(BEING LEFT BEHIND)
I must be happy and I must let go;
She’s young, she’s married now, I must move on,
But there’s an emptiness, I miss her so,
A dull ache deep inside me, now she’s gone.
No more the text, “Mums, can I come for lunch?
I can’t stay long, though, fancy feeding me?”
Her absence hits me like a silent punch,
And I admit, I miss her dreadfully.
How full of ups and downs the years have been;
This sometimes thankless job of parenthood,
Where “Mum, I love you” turns to, “you’re so mean!”
Yet I’d not change things even if I could.
Although she’s gone and left me feeling low,
Because I love her, I must let her go.
Thursday, 14 July 2011
Hannah now lives in London, but Holly who is a vet has worked in this area for 3 years. On June 25th, she married and now she and her husband, Chris are moving tomorrow to High Wycombe in Buckinghamshire.
They are both blissfully happy and doing what hey want to do, so of course I'm happy for them. I'm going to miss her so much, though! I suppose I've been spoilt having her around here so long. I promised I wouldn't make a fuss and I haven't, but now she's gone I feel somewhat bereft. I feel like Eyor, and my flat feels "rather boggy and sad."
I do hope this feeling isn't going to last too long; unlike Eyor, I prefer toast for breakfast, not thistles.