A poem for 2016 that fell on deaf ears *sigh*
A poem celebrating a new chapter in my career
A couple of years ago Lords of the Drinks ran a poetry competition. Given that I like a poem, and that my specialist subject is drinking too much, I thought I’d enter.
The poem was penned on Burns night. Here it is
A few months ago, I got an email from the other side of the world. Andrew Beban from Off the Avenue Productions was involved in writing the music for a production called “A Man Walks Into a Bar”.
Could he, he asked, use my poem and turn it into a song to be featured in the production?
Hmmm. Let me think about that.
It’s all about communication isn’t it? Not just how we speak, but how we listen too. With that in mind, it is perhaps best to never hear the newest piece of child development research before sunrise, before coffee, through the medium that is Breakfast TV.
Given the pre-coffee circumstances, my first exposure to Save the Children’s “Lighting Up Young Brains” perhaps wasn’t all it should have been.
When it comes to education, we don’t need no politicians.
We don’t need no thought control.
This thought control invariably takes the form of FUD-ing:
F-ear U-ncertainty D-oubt Continue reading
Kim Kardashian took a naked selfie, and yesterday social media couldn’t stop talking about it. However, it wasn’t her nudity that concerned me. It was the beige-ness of her bathroom.
Clearly, I’m not above gawping at nude folk. Clearly I saw a headline that said ‘Someone is totally naked on instagram’ and I thought I’d sneak a peak. And there it was:
Someone naked, looking fabulous, in a really, really boring bathroom. Continue reading
Mum didn’t teach me baking skills
She didn’t lead me to the sink
She kept me close, without the apron strings
She taught me how to think Continue reading
Give a Mum a fish and you feed her for a day; teach a Mum to fish and you feed her for a lifetime. Or check the freezer. You’ll probably find a fish finger. And a waffle. Mmmm. Waffles.
A recruitment consultant stole my fish. My metaphorical fish that is.
By ‘my fish’ I mean ‘my career’ and boy, it was a big one. However, then along came the kids.
Once I’d become a full time stay at home Mum I misplaced my rod, lost the bait, and requested that all tackle be kept from view. But I was happy on the break from
fishing my career until the phone calls from the recruitment consultant started. Continue reading
“So kids. What are you giving up for lent?|
The four year old: “Nightmares.”
The seven year old: “Farting.”
The six year old: “Pancakes.”
Something I wrote a while back…..seemed a good moment to reshare.
Flipping tossers, eh
I wrote down everything that came to mind when I thought of pancake day. Turns out I listed the ingredients for both pancakes, and a border-line abusive relationship. Who knew! Enjoy the poem. Enjoy the pancakes. Continue reading