(mostly) first person poetry, prose & opinion
In the last few days, I’ve been hankering for an English version of the expression Feliz salida y entrada, which the Spanish use in the days leading up to New Year. It just doesn’t really have an equivalent in English.
When you speak two languages, the second one changes your world view and gives you access to all kinds of expressions and ideas that you didn’t realise existed when you were limited to your mother tongue.
Continue reading “success and enchantment”
No dabbling in the dew this morning – I’d have had to put my wellies on and am not sure how you tell dew that has risen from rain that has fallen.
No Morris dancers with their bells and wooden staves, and no dancing round the Maypole.
No Green Man and no May Queen.
Continue reading “maybe; maybe not”
When I lived in Spain I used to complain about how long the holiday season lasted: it seemed to stretch all the way from the fiestas at the beginning of December until past Twelfth Night.**
Here in the UK, though, much as I was bemoaning the supermarket aisles crammed with marzipan, iced cake and mince pies back in October, Christmas seems to be a bit of a flash in the pan.
Continue reading “almost over”
I’ve never been much of a one for parties and events, so don’t usually have to worry about juggling a diary full of Christmas lunches and business gatherings, and coping with burning the candle at both ends, with breakfast meetings following hard on the (high) heels of fancy meals and late night drinks.
This year, though, the holiday season celebrations seem to have started early and for some reason I am more involved than ever before.
Continue reading “senseless”
It’s been a beautiful day and, for once, I’ve spent very little time at my computer.
It’s the local folk festival this weekend and there has been music and a general festive air throughout the town. At the end of the road, groups played Led Zeppelin and David Bowie covers, neither of which count as folk to me, though I admit I enjoyed them rather more than I did the Morris dancing.
Continue reading “running late”
It’s that time of year: we’ve had the solstice and we’ve had Midsummer; at Glastonbury the festival continues until Sunday; there are concerts of music and “performance” in the nearby city and, in the town, four generations of women have silk flowers threaded through their hair…
Continue reading “summer”
Nowadays, most people seem to overlook Good Friday, but I thought it was an excuse to leave my desk for a while.
It’s been a glorious sunny day, but I didn’t take my camera when I went out, so rather than my usual habit of seeing things through a lens darkly, I actually looked directly at all the yellow flowers of spring: the daffodils peeking over garden walls, the primroses nestling in the uncut grass, the brighter yellow of celandines and, perhaps brightest of all, the shaggy-maned dandelions.
This lovely camellia stood out as such a different colour that I was tempted to try and capture it on my phone.
