A Comfy Kind Of Restless

Hi!

Hiss  Habitual  Favour  Back  Thief   Hurdle  Bag  Numeric  Shaman

The hiss of disapproval
As they sit on benches
Surrounded by habitual pomp
Goaded by others in favour this week.

Those at the back
(Like anywhere) troublemakers
Playing the thief
Of credulity: well.

A clever hurdle here,
A concession in the bag;
Spin that numeric truth thin
Like some talented Shaman…

I watched the Prime Minister’s question time (PMQs) today, and I wanted to write about how many MPs stood up and pressed Theresa May about the arrangements for the Grenfell Tower rehousing and investigation.

I wanted to explore how surreal it always is to hear any one of them remark on events that affect ‘ordinary’ people, while the MPs are simultaneously being cocooned by grandeur and tradition within Westminster.

There was a lot of reference to class division having been brought to our attention in the harshest way by the towerblock’s blaze, and how this year and this century should mean that none of it should exist any more.

I listened to the accents, and I noted what my first impressions were. I closed my eyes and took them in, tried not to have my storyteller’s mind fill in parts of the speakers’ biographies straight away – but it was impossible to escape.

We categorise from a very early age. We are taught to. The more life experience we have, the more we learn to read the ‘signs’ when we first meet people. It becomes something we do naturally, it gives us a framework, lets us determine if we are ‘safe’, or how much we will be understood by the other person. We get impressions and feedback from others in a myriad of different ways, and often subconsciously; then change our behaviour accordingly.

This becomes a problem when we take our categorisation further and decide that others deserve less. That their lives are expendable, that steps should be missed out when assuring safety. Although it seems incongruous (and, dare I say, patronising?!) to hear a plummy accent declare that ‘the poor’ and ‘disadvantaged’ in our societies should be treated more humanely, it is indeed even more chilling that the fact does still need to be pointed out!

My generated words only led to a poem about the general workings of the Commons Chamber, but there is a lot more in my head I wish to express!

Later, I watched footage of cladding being taken down from other towerblocks, and the whole thing is beyond scandalous. How can anyone, anywhere justify knowingly endangering lives by using materials, that are proven to be a fire risk, on people’s homes?! I really hope that the investigation is widened to include any company or body that is responsible for knowingly choosing money over lives. I just can’t get my head around the enormity of such a deed, and the price the Grenfell residents have had to pay for that decision.

I fervently hope there are appropriate criminal charges brought to bear after the police investigations.

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Copyright © 2017 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi.

The reports keep coming.  I don’t know how London’s emergency services are supposed to cope, never mind the communities who live there.  I find myself watching the rolling coverage on the BBC a lot more than is healthy, but it is almost like if I take in every detail I will somehow see that there is a meaning to all the recent tragedies.  That I will be able to glimpse some equilibrium and feel comforted? 

But at the same time I don’t wish to be merely consoled, I want to look the chaos in the face and show the grit that those communities do, become mightier by seeing how other people manage it; learn the ultimate resilience.

My heart, once more, is with the afflicted families.  I am so proud of the humanity that is being shown across faiths and class divides, for this is how we all should be.  It proves there is, after all, hope and kindness still circulating in this world.

Ahead  Want  Doubt  Toys  Linen  Sad Romantic  Strong  Middle

I don’t want to be ever fearful

Of what lies ahead.

I don’t want to doubt

The future of a curly-headed kid:

Happily playing with toys

And hiding random stuff

In my linen baskets.

I don’t want to be sad

Every time I turn on the news;

Feeling voyeuristic

As there are Panorama specials

Advertised

That make suffering almost romantic

By adding music.

I want to remain strong,

Show my children that:

Things like terrorism can’t win.

We are not in the middle

Of some unimaginable

Slump in humanity –

We’ll get through this…

Won’t we?

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hello!

Today’s wee random word foray, to mark it being Fathers’ Day:

“Amongst many other things

He saves mummy’s bacon.

(That means he helps me out

When I’ve done something silly,

Or I am stuck on something)”

I saw a small chromatic shift

In hubby’s face

As Youngest was heard to blurt:

“And he makes good food,

And likes cud-a-win us!”

Our other, bigger, monkey

Frog-leapt from his seat

And hugged his Dad, forcefully.

All thunder-clouds vanished

As affection bloomed.

This cultural obsession we have

With naming days

To declare our feelings for people –

When, if we just looked,

Hourly evidence is everywhere.

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi

Yet more powerful images in the news today, such raw emotion.  I can only imagine how angry the surviving former residents of Grenfell Tower are beginning to feel. 

It was all too surreal to comprehend at first,  I would think, looking up at the shell of their homes and knowing that this tragedy was forewarned, but its remedy forestalled. 

The class questions this raises are not going to just disappear, and nor should they.

Word  Decisive  Circulate  Offset  Acquit  Roll  Disaster  Aloof  Hilarious

They don’t believe a word she says

About being decisive

And working tirelessly

For the common good.

As rumours circulate,

And the promised

Is offset by reality;

It is hard to acquit guilt.

When hours roll by

And a leader does not share

Solidarity in the face of disaster –

Appears aloof,

Stirring anger in her wake –

They must be forgiven

For taking to placards and soundbites;

Finding platitudes

Ruefully hilarious.

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hello

I came home (thankful that I was going to be seated on my couch for a while, after an exhausting morning on Youngest’s woodwalk) to the appalling news about the Grenfell Tower fire.

Again London. Again an amazing response from the community and, of course, the emergency services.

I watched homes being obliterated, reporters standing in front of a building that was STILL burning twelve hours later – and continued to glow orange through the rest of our day.

There had been sleeping families in there.

The stories just kept coming: of escape, of loss, of grief, of hope, of anger, of friendship, of heroism, of humanity…my heart is just so full for all those affected.

My head got overwhelmed from the barrage of images and accounts. Everything felt muffled, if that makes sense? Today’s words didn’t express what I wanted them to, and yet kind of did: from garrulous to a whisper.

I wish words could fix everything.  I wish words had been heeded when the residents raised their fire-related concerns years ago.  I wish the world did not work this way. I wish tragedy did not scream louder than logical argument and heartfelt reasoning.

Garrulous  Bulb  Slave  Hanging  Sad  Paddle  Thread  Whisper

My garrulous pen

Silent

As the bulb flickers

Annoyingly, overhead.

My electronic slave

Whirs

As an avalanche is hanging

Out of shot.

For I am morose:

Sad, and

Adrift on a windless lake

Sans paddle or tide.

My seat creaks in protest

But

I’ve misplaced the vital thread –

A whisper unheard.*

[*I went back and forth over ending the poem with ‘unheard’ or ‘of fate’ but I think I like ‘unheard’ best?  It fitted with how I was feeling about the voices of the Grenfell residents against the establishment, and is also the sound of a dropped thread…]

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hello!

It will be another short post tonight because I can hardly keep my eyes open to write this!

Look how many steps my Accupedo app has logged for me today…that is a full 9 mile school run, a short game of tig, a bit of housework, getting dinner ready, racing Eldest around his school (I am faster than I give myself credit for.  My boys were impressed) and probably a few other things besides.

Our day started with the kids not wanting to leave the house and not being the best of friends, but progressed to them running around the playground in the evening sunshine, while we waited to chat to Youngest’s nursery keyworker.  He got a glowing report, as usual!

From Textfixer

The boys were extremely volatile when they got in, however, and it took some fancy parenting footwork from Hubby and me to get them calm enough for a bath, cuddles and bed.  Upon reading tonight’s words, I thought about this and the strategies we use.  We are not perfect by any stretch of the imagination (I screeched a bit on the schoolrun!) but Hubby and I learned a while ago that connection works better than opposition with our two.  I think the speaker in the poem has a different approach…

Horrible  Coward   Chart  Ballerina  Concert  World  Drench  Agency  Exception

Although she screamed that I was horrible

I’m not some sort of parenting coward;

I tore up her behaviour chart rewards

Ripped right through her prized ballerina.

I told her I would not attend her concert

(Did not take pictures, even though I snuck in)

You would have thought her world

Had collapsed around her frilly frock!

I swear she wanted to drench me in tears

But I just walked away, firmly.

There won’t be concessions made;

Blackmail through the agency of emotion

Will not be tolerated.  (Without exception)

How else is she ever going to learn…?

I am going to walk away from you lovely people, myself.  I hope you have a great day, whatever you get up to tomorrow.  🙂

I…am…soooo…tiiiired….  na night, all!

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi!

It was an easy set of words to write around today 😉

As I have mentioned before, our boys love to pretend they are serving in a café.  They also love visiting such establishments in real life, especially if there is good cake on the menu!  I can’t think where they got that trait from…

Trench  Ensure  Verdict  Customer  Waiter  Reference  Dribble  Presence  Adventure

He popped up from the trench

He’d constructed from cushions,

To ensure I did not forget

August last year

My promised game.

I dutifully gave my verdict

On how well the walls were holding,

Then became his first customer

As he morphed into ‘Waiter’.

(I am not sure who gave their reference

In support of this man’s prowess,

Because while I was there he fumbled fish

And went on to dribble milk…)

In my boy’s delighted smile

It was plain for all to see:

My very presence lent great weight

To each role-played adventure.

I pictured Youngest in particular for this poem, as we were chatting about cafes at length the other day.  However, Eldest is the one who is more likely to barricade himself in places with the playroom accessories!

Do you remember building things with random soft furnishings?!  I had great fun with my mum’s giant floor cushions, and the novelty footstool that’s in the shape of a tortoise 😉

This is more ‘ramp’ than ‘barricade’, but you get the idea…

It’s funny how much comes back to make you smile, when you spend time in a kid’s world!

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi

I wrote this poem earlier this afternoon. 

This evening it is a week since the London terror attack, and two days since the close of the UK’s snap election voting window.

I was thinking about how the news has been pretty dominated by the fallout from Thursday, and put the fact that we are on high alert for another terrorist attack somewhat on the back burner.

There have been more prominent reports of where the London investigation has got to, and how Londoners are coping a week on, since I wrote the below, but it was how I felt at that moment in time.

Guide  Ignorant  Doubtful  Awful  Befitting  Flag  Bizarre  Periodic  Question

…An over-interviewed tour guide

Tired but earnest,

Eager to inform the ignorant

Or doubtful

That this event was indeed awful…

…Silent sweeps of skylines

With, befitting the events,

Each flag hung at half mast…

Bizarre that these images

Have been overtaken so quickly

By our not-so-periodic

Flurry of voting

(And the DUP question)

Is this refusing to be cowed?

Or just herding more lumps under carpets?

It has been a week of extreme scrutiny for London and its people.  It is lovely to see the community coming together to help one another, and keep strong.  As more and more details emerge of last Saturday night, I worry for those living there in the weeks and months to come.  I hope we manage to thwart any new plots against us, and give the UK a bit of breathing space while we sort ourselves out.

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hello!

I once more came to my pen and notebook, hoping to write something about the election. 

I have been watching the coverage on the BBC off and on all day.  I unfortunately had to go to bed early, and not watch the election last night, due to somehow managing to pull a muscle in my left side while lowering myself to lie on the couch (?!) so I’ve been hugging my hot water bottle a lot and moving gingerly!

Again, the generator listened to my subconscious, and gave me fitting words:

Promised  Purple  Hook  Accountable  Believe  Afraid  Carrion  Brush  Drugstore

But the promised triumph

Lay in tatters by her feet –

Her pride growing purple

From his best hook.

Yet she still felt accountable,

Still willing to believe;

Though afraid that the carrion call

Would summon many…

She took a moment

To brush down her suit –

Grimaced as she swallowed

A drugstore-full of bitter pills:

Caustic fruits of Labour.

I am actually very pleased with how the poem turned out 😉

The country will take a bit of work, however!

Interesting times ahead for Britain, it would seem…

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi 😊

Sometimes, we need a kid to show us that life is not all serious.

Youngest decided to drive that point home for me today.

So what if there are people all over the country going out and marking papers to decide who should govern the British Isles?

Hmmmm…

So what if the skies have opened, and we can’t get dry between school runs, and it’s meant to be summertime?!

There are many simple pleasures that can make us smile.  We just have to take off our grown up head for a minute 😉

Celestial  Class  Caundle  Tail  Frog  Jellies  Chestnut  Nasty  Clipping

Celestial curls bouncing,

He rushed to the edge of the puddles;

Finally released from nursery class

(His friend fashioned a caundle from the mud)

I was hot on his ‘tail’ –

Cautioning my little frog

Not to dirty up the pushchair later,

Or breach his boots in the depths.

That cruel anxiety deposited jellies

In my legs as I followed him;

Until I reminded myself

Said old chestnut needs cracked…

So, as he moved to shallower (cleaner) splashing

My camera came out!

Why bend to nasty adulthood

When those wings need no clipping?!

I read about the meaning of ‘caundle’ here, it is thought to refer to the low hills found around Bishop/Stourton Caundle in Dorset, England.

When one drags mud with the side of a Wellie Boot, there appear similar mounds 😉

As you can see, Youngest had a blast, and it was lovely watching him try and get the biggest leaps and splashes for my pics!  Well worth the drying time for both the waterproof gear and the buggy in the end, bless him.

Well, that was lots of fun…but… “bring me suuunshine…”

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!