A Comfy Kind Of Restless

How do?!

I start this, my 70th post (!), in the full knowledge that I am not going to get it finished in one sitting.  It may even take three or four.  I’ve left it late, and the kids are at their restless bathtime-with-daddy best.

I caught up with the BBC News channel today instead of writing my poem, mainly because the weekend took the oomph  out of me (as did getting our eldest to school on time on slippy pavements) but also due to our youngest having coughed pretty much constantly since about 4.30am, and me having to figure out whether he was awake/going to puke/ok to be left.  So I had youngest off nursery today, and sat on my bottom as much as possible between school drop off and pick-up.

I played a lovely couple of rounds of a dinosaur game that reinforces colours and shapes (youngest won both times) and we also discussed important topics; such as why plasters are so sticky (he cut his foot on a toy train the other day) and the appropriate age for one to start drinking fizzy juice or tea (he’s decided it should be at least mid-teens. Smart boy).

From Jimpix

Youngest bullied me for an early lunch, and was finished it by midday (he’d napped for most of the school run). He said he’d help me put on the white washing load, but then decided that watching the tablet would be a better use of his time.  He likes regaling me with tales of Peter Rabbit’s exploits, and kept wandering through to tell me about “a weely good bit, mummy!”.

So I got to toggle my phone a bit, and watch TV, and just ignore the fact that, y’know, I’m supposed to be creative every day…

I still walked six miles pushing Mr. Youngest in our ‘old faithful’ Skate buggy, let’s not forget.  One has to conserve energy now and then.

I did write the poem in the end though, and here it is:

User  Beast  Coins  Ripe  Gear  Link  Remember  Gullible  Bobcat

“…and it’s only had one – careful – user”

It was an ugly beast.

But, with so few coins in my coffers,

I was ripe for the sales pitch.

I bought it,

Crunched a gear or two getting out of the place,

Almost taking with

Their cheap ‘link fence.

Next time I’ll try and remember

Not to be so gullible –

And certainly ditch my mother

Sat, squawking, to my bobcat left.

Notebook scribbles

I looked up the Urban Dictionary when I read ‘Bobcat’.  I picked the 6^th definition for my purposes 😉

The more I read this poem, the more I hear the voiceover bits from Burn Notice.  The mention of the speaker’s mother fits in perfectly, too! *chortles*

In the scene in my head, I saw a guy in his 20s with long hair and tattoos, grimacing because he needed a car that day. Something undisclosed had happened to his. He got shown a mean ‘faced’ one.  The kind I always think look like angry sharks at the front.  (I don’t do makes of car, only ‘faces’ and colours…)

I hadn’t seen his mother until she popped up in the second last line, but I suppose she might have given him the money as he was skint? She wasn’t happy, anyway!

What do you think the backstory is, here?

Drop me a comment and let me know 🙂

P.S. It took three sittings to write this and add the pics!

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