My window is ajar
the three a.m. wind splitting my curtains apart
their dance shuffling the stillness in the blue of my empty room
And so rising I orchestrate a dead-of-night rumba
and dancing with the owls
I screech
copyright Angela Norris
Thursday, 4 September 2008
Night Dances
My window is ajar
the three a.m. wind splitting my curtains apart
their dance shuffling the stillness in the blue of my empty room
And so rising I orchestrate a dead-of-night rumba
and dancing with the owls
I screech
copyright Angela Norris
It's All About Boiling
I'll bet all my handbags that Gordon Brown's face is in his porridge this morning because, according to former Home Secretary Charles Clarke, "Labour is destined to disaster"
Thanks Chaz, I'm sure the beleaguered boiling-with-rage Prime Minister needs to hear that.
I'm going to stick my neck out and say that Gordon Brown will be booking a removal van in the next few months.
I can't write any more about Gordon because I'm getting in a lather, and I can't get in too much of a lather on account of me having a lot to do in the kitchen today. And sensitive delicate flowers like me, shouldn't have choppers and boiling saucepans in their hands when they're overwrought.
I need peace to cook.
So I'm going to take a deep breath now, put on gauntlets and try to get Monty out of the wardrobe, (can't have him in there in case he strokes my new woollies.....) then I'll enter the kitchen put on a plastic pinny and Radio 4 and make a huge bucket of carrot soup and a dozen spicy apple fingers.
Also chalked on the board is :
Make Strawberry cake for the old people
Write sensuous love poem
Do something about my beard.
Thanks Chaz, I'm sure the beleaguered boiling-with-rage Prime Minister needs to hear that.
I'm going to stick my neck out and say that Gordon Brown will be booking a removal van in the next few months.
I can't write any more about Gordon because I'm getting in a lather, and I can't get in too much of a lather on account of me having a lot to do in the kitchen today. And sensitive delicate flowers like me, shouldn't have choppers and boiling saucepans in their hands when they're overwrought.
I need peace to cook.
So I'm going to take a deep breath now, put on gauntlets and try to get Monty out of the wardrobe, (can't have him in there in case he strokes my new woollies.....) then I'll enter the kitchen put on a plastic pinny and Radio 4 and make a huge bucket of carrot soup and a dozen spicy apple fingers.
Also chalked on the board is :
Make Strawberry cake for the old people
Write sensuous love poem
Do something about my beard.
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
I Don't Want Ronaldo
An Arab Sheik has bought Manchester City F.C. and apparently he wants to whisk Ronaldo away from Manchester United for about 130 million pounds.
Can't see Alex Ferguson allowing his star player to leave, after all it's Ronaldo who makes Man Utd what it is.
I get in such a flap when I hear about rich men buying glory and happiness usually in the form of buying people, castles, gems and yachts and it leaves me scratching my head wondering why they can't be satisfied with humdrum happiness...
Take me for instance.
I'm getting on a bit and admittedly when happiness does come along it tends to comes in spits and spurts and dribs and drabs and that's ok and I'm very grateful for it, but to me real happiness has nothing to do with bending the ears of Estate Agents, floating around posh boat shows or traipsing round Hatton Garden, no, I get my satisfaction in Poundland.
But it's not only cheap shops which make Glo glow.
It's a lot of other things too.
Things like:
Stockings/socks/tartan tights
Day trip to London/Southend/Paris
Receiving compliments/advice/cuddles
Good chocolate/Werther's toffees/Nobby's nuts
The X Factor/Radio4/The Weakest Link
Pies/Puddings/Pies
Good films/books/diaries
Birds/foxes/chimpanzees
Telly/Radio/Computer
Soul/Chopin/Eurovision Song Contest
Ceramic birds/little ladies/big bowls
Flouncy skirts/woollies/white blouses
Boots/stilettos/slippers
Pearls/silver/plastic beads
Snow/rain/sunshine
People:
Boo
Mum and dad
The Duchess
John Humphrys
Morgan Freeman
Boris Johnson
Digger
Monty, but only when he's not swinging from a lampshade
I could go on and it's made me wonder how I could ever feel sad...
Can't see Alex Ferguson allowing his star player to leave, after all it's Ronaldo who makes Man Utd what it is.
I get in such a flap when I hear about rich men buying glory and happiness usually in the form of buying people, castles, gems and yachts and it leaves me scratching my head wondering why they can't be satisfied with humdrum happiness...
Take me for instance.
I'm getting on a bit and admittedly when happiness does come along it tends to comes in spits and spurts and dribs and drabs and that's ok and I'm very grateful for it, but to me real happiness has nothing to do with bending the ears of Estate Agents, floating around posh boat shows or traipsing round Hatton Garden, no, I get my satisfaction in Poundland.
But it's not only cheap shops which make Glo glow.
It's a lot of other things too.
Things like:
Stockings/socks/tartan tights
Day trip to London/Southend/Paris
Receiving compliments/advice/cuddles
Good chocolate/Werther's toffees/Nobby's nuts
The X Factor/Radio4/The Weakest Link
Pies/Puddings/Pies
Good films/books/diaries
Birds/foxes/chimpanzees
Telly/Radio/Computer
Soul/Chopin/Eurovision Song Contest
Ceramic birds/little ladies/big bowls
Flouncy skirts/woollies/white blouses
Boots/stilettos/slippers
Pearls/silver/plastic beads
Snow/rain/sunshine
People:
Boo
Mum and dad
The Duchess
John Humphrys
Morgan Freeman
Boris Johnson
Digger
Monty, but only when he's not swinging from a lampshade
I could go on and it's made me wonder how I could ever feel sad...
Tuesday, 2 September 2008
Rampant Rain and Super Soup
Most important thing of the day HAPPY BIRTHDAY 'BOO'!
It's raining as I type this and I'm thinking 'no soaking up of sunny rays for me today'.
Will be soaking up gas fumes in the kitchen instead!
On Gloria's agenda today:
*Make Minestrone soup (ideal weather for it)
*Write shopping list (I like lists...)
*Read other people's poetry (for a change)
*Watch the Republican's Convention on B.B.C. Parliament (Can't get through day without my politician fix)
*Make Chocolate cake
*Try to upload some audio. I recorded the poem I mentioned last night but something is stopping me upload it, so in between all my other activities I'll be trying to get the poem up and running.
And as it's still raining methinks a cup of very sweet tea is essential, after all tea and rain go so well together.
It's raining as I type this and I'm thinking 'no soaking up of sunny rays for me today'.
Will be soaking up gas fumes in the kitchen instead!
On Gloria's agenda today:
*Make Minestrone soup (ideal weather for it)
*Write shopping list (I like lists...)
*Read other people's poetry (for a change)
*Watch the Republican's Convention on B.B.C. Parliament (Can't get through day without my politician fix)
*Make Chocolate cake
*Try to upload some audio. I recorded the poem I mentioned last night but something is stopping me upload it, so in between all my other activities I'll be trying to get the poem up and running.
And as it's still raining methinks a cup of very sweet tea is essential, after all tea and rain go so well together.
Monday, 1 September 2008
Stupid Woman!
Monty is in the bath but it's me who's in a lather.
I've had an exceptionally tiring day, what with banging my head against a brick wall and squeezing blood out of the proverbial stone, I've just about had enough!
But as Scarlett O'Hara said 'Tomorrow is another day'.
So bugger it. She didn't say bugger it, I did.
I've written a half decent poem and will be post it tomorrow; can't do it now on account of not knowing where I've put it.
And so on that idiotic note I head for bed.
I've had an exceptionally tiring day, what with banging my head against a brick wall and squeezing blood out of the proverbial stone, I've just about had enough!
But as Scarlett O'Hara said 'Tomorrow is another day'.
So bugger it. She didn't say bugger it, I did.
I've written a half decent poem and will be post it tomorrow; can't do it now on account of not knowing where I've put it.
And so on that idiotic note I head for bed.
Super September
September already.
Thank God for that.
Summer was a bit of a wash out on account of there not being much of it about, that's summer I'm talking about. But anyway Autumn is ambling up the road and over the hill tops and will soon be upon us blessing and charming us with her browness.
I like Autumn on account of me being able to drag my woollies and long wild skirts out of the wardrobe and then amble down to Southend and up to London looking boho and a bit barking. Of course I shall need a new hat, because last years hats is so er..last year. Thinking of buying a beret...
And with the new hat comes new gloves and my new gloves must be leather this year, because leather is hot and sexy and because I'm so hot and sexy leather gloves are a Yes Yes. Fluffy pink polyester cuties from Primark are a definite No No.
Now what else is there about Autumn that I like?
Well it marks the end of a summer I'd rather forget for one reason or another, and hopefully heralds the beginning of an Autumn I'll want to remember.
What is it about the beginning and end of seasons which make stupid people like me drone on and on in a sickly girly way? Oh I don't know.
What I do know however is that Winter is lurking behind Autumn's door and Winter means only one thing. More Woollies. Oh and a scarf and choccie puds and fruit cakes and thermal tights and industrial strength vests and presents and football and kissing under the mistletoe and on the table and and and..............
Now I must dash because I have to sort out September birthday type things for dad and chums.
Thank God for that.
Summer was a bit of a wash out on account of there not being much of it about, that's summer I'm talking about. But anyway Autumn is ambling up the road and over the hill tops and will soon be upon us blessing and charming us with her browness.
I like Autumn on account of me being able to drag my woollies and long wild skirts out of the wardrobe and then amble down to Southend and up to London looking boho and a bit barking. Of course I shall need a new hat, because last years hats is so er..last year. Thinking of buying a beret...
And with the new hat comes new gloves and my new gloves must be leather this year, because leather is hot and sexy and because I'm so hot and sexy leather gloves are a Yes Yes. Fluffy pink polyester cuties from Primark are a definite No No.
Now what else is there about Autumn that I like?
Well it marks the end of a summer I'd rather forget for one reason or another, and hopefully heralds the beginning of an Autumn I'll want to remember.
What is it about the beginning and end of seasons which make stupid people like me drone on and on in a sickly girly way? Oh I don't know.
What I do know however is that Winter is lurking behind Autumn's door and Winter means only one thing. More Woollies. Oh and a scarf and choccie puds and fruit cakes and thermal tights and industrial strength vests and presents and football and kissing under the mistletoe and on the table and and and..............
Now I must dash because I have to sort out September birthday type things for dad and chums.
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