The picture is a pointer to my excuse for not writing much and any inaccuracies in what I write. What with the fans, the air con, the darned fridge and workmen constantly popping in and out, I was lucky to hear anything at all.
That´s my excuse and I´m sticking to it. It´s also my excuse for including another of my offerings of the day as a filler.
Also, as I´ve said before, I´m writing the blog today so there!
We started off with TJ, who had brought along his latest book of poems, photos and reproductions of his paintings. It was entitled " The Quiet Man Collection" inspired by the classic film of the same name starring John Wayne and Maureen O´Hara. He read one of the poems and the book was passed around the group. Very attractively produced and interesting.
Alan gave us a new episode in the life of Spike the dog. Growing up, he has started to calm down and become more responsible, learning to read and even organising his mates into a Neighbourhood Bark group to protect their Humans´ property.
Maureen, who hasn´t written much travel stuff for a while, treated us to a light-hearted piece starting on the beach being eyed-up by a bit of the local talent.
Jane was very moved by the previous weekend´s bombing in Oslo and had written a poem on the subject.
John McG, nervously checking that we were all broadminded, read a piece about the firm´s Sales people on an annual trip, this time to Amsterdam, and an encounter with an angry live-sex show performer possessing equipment of mind-boggling proportions. Hilarious! Since he isn´t going to be around for a few weeks he also read a sqeaky-clean chapter of his "Ex-files"
Brenda had brought along a revised story about a future where the world is devastated by a power-mad politician and about the scientist who hopes that time travel might be a solution to the situation. It was thought that this could be an outline for a novel.
Everybody else wrote on this week´s theme "The Street".
Cathy tried out a poem in terza rima - a 3-line poem with the first and the third lines rhyming.
Ian read both a poem (which went past me totally as the fridge was having a fit at the time) and a short story, which I think was based on the different characters in the street ( fridge convulsions again).
Avril and Mary K both read a pieces about a street in their childhoods as ( I think) John McGilvray did but which, again, was lost for me in mechanical rumblings.
Jenny, sitting relatively close to me, and therefore heard a bit better, gave a description of a street in Toronto,where she lived as a child in the 50s.
I (Chris) read a couple of depressing poems, one of which was on the same subject and which I have included as a filler to cover the meagre pickings of the rest of the blog.
May the fridge suffer a breakdown of gigantic proportions!
Appearances Are Deceptive.
The street´s quite short.
It´s nothing special,
Terraced houses side by side.
In summer people sit in doorways,
Kids kick a ball, dogs run and bark.
It seems so normal.
And so it is because life is like that,
Smooth on the surface, ordinary.
But inside, underneath, things are different.
When the door is shut, when no-one sees.
Blows and curses, tears and woe,
Pain and anguish, black despair,
Dreams all shattered, hopes awry.
Till, once more, thresholds are crossed,
Masks are in place
And life goes on in the street.
See you all mid-September!
Chris J
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