Monday, 22 September 2008

Back in the world of telly viewing.

I have now got a signal on two channels on my TV, BBC1 and ITV1. This has enabled me to watch, both 'Strictly Come Dancing' and 'The X Factor', this weekend.

Both highly watchable for a woman with nothing better to do on a Saturday evening.

SCD - I love the grace and beauty of the professional dancers and of course the frocks.

XF - Yes, it is great fun to watch wannabe pop stars make a fool of themslves but this week-end left me feeling more than a little uncomfortable. An enthusiastic young man attempted a Michael Jackson number. Although the panel of judges were kinder than usual in their comments regarding his performance. I felt this young man was exploited in order to provide 'good' TV. There is a thin line between entertainment and exploitation and in this case I felt the line was crossed.

Last night I watched 'Tess'. I have pondered long and hard over whether I really wanted to watch this terribly tragic tale unfold one more time. But as a Hardy fan I felt compelled to do so. Inevitably I ended up wiping a tear or two from my eye and telling myself, "my life hasn't really been that bad considering ....."

Thursday, 18 September 2008

nowhere to hide.

The child runs and runs,
She sobs, she rages, she screams,
In silence.
There is no hope, just the star spangled sky
And the damp, dark hedgerow.
There she huddles, just for a while.
Heedless of any happy hearth, gentle eyed,
Loving hand or tender hearted home.

She knows only harsh words, hard slaps, whip cracks, bone snaps.
Probing fingers, boozy breath,
Broken bad tooth, snarling, sneering mouth.
Rough trousers rubbing.
Grunting and pain.
Silent suffocation.
No mercy.
Slamming doors
Banging chairs.
Slaps, cracks, snaps
And trembling, tumbling, terror
And running, running, running.

The earth feels sweet and cool;
Her lip bleeds and drips on the cool earth
Her skin is pricked by barbed brambles.
She is glad.
The night folds gentle arms around her broken body,
The dark is kind,
There are no demons in this soft blanket of silence.

She hears a terrible sound.
It is a long drawn-out howl of agony,
A deep moan of terror and hopelessness.
Somewhere an animal is caught in a trap.
Somewhere a creature is dying
The fearful sound comes from her own throat

Thursday, 11 September 2008

A New Home.

Well, i'm in!

My flat is very bijou, especially as it is currently piled high with very large boxes that I have nowhere to unpack.

These boxes contain :-

Books (Mine)

Amplifiers, speakers, videos, football trophys, University folders, more amplifiers, more speakers, one television, one record deck, 4 Meccano sets and board games such as Cluedo, Pictionary, monopoly etc. One enormous box full of electrical equipment that I haven't the foggiest notion what any of it is. (These are all my sons who can't get down for a fortnight)

Oh and 3 old computer monitors et al......

In the meantime, in my tiny living room, I have to stare at them, fall over them and continually curse them and rue the day that I ever had children.

In the foyer, because I no longer have an outdoor space, are one concrete birdbath on a grecian style stand (that nobody can lift)

One huge bright blue tub (that nobody can lift)

2 old computer monitors (that nobody knows what to do with)

and two garden chairs.

On the upstairs landing are twenty five empty flat pack boxes and 19 rubbish sacks full of packing paper which I don't know what to do with as I no longer have a car.

Life is great when you are no longer on the run......