.
You only ever need it
when you’ve left it on the bus
on the train
home in the cupboard
somewhere with no rain.
Don’t bother getting cross because
you know you’ll do it again
and again
and again.
***
***
***
Umbrella
Category Archives: Ordinary Life
Pooh-Poohing a Pejorative Pee-Pee Name
.
A little context before you read this one (from the YouGov website);
In February of this year, Guardian journalist Sam Wollaston called YouGov out for our lack of data on how many British men sit down to urinate.
Kicking ourselves for this glaring omission from our Public Data archive, we have since conducted a 13-country study on men’s peeing preferences internationally.
The results show that British men are among the least likely to sit for a wee, with 33% saying they “never” do so – tied with Poland...
…it is German men who are the most likely to sit down to pee – 40% say they do so every time, and a further 22% do so most times. Only 10% say they never do.
Ironically, Germany is a nation that has a term deriding men who sit down to pee – ‘sitzpinkler’, literally someone who sits down to wee, but also used to imply a man is wimpy or effeminate – while also requiring them to do so in many places. Signs telling men to sit down to pee are common in German bathrooms, and standing to urinate is often seen as antisocial behaviour.
You can read the full article here.
I’m a wife, and the mother of sons, so you can appreciate my perspective, I’m sure.
***
Pooh-Poohing a Pejorative Pee-Pee Name
I love a sitzpinkler
He’s less of a sprinkler
There’s not much to clean
If you know what I mean…
***
***
***
A Clichéd Life
.
At the end of the day
comes tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow;
and all our yesterdays
have been and gone.
***
***
***
Guest Poet: In My Experience
.
In my experience,
little boys are
full of laughter,
bravado,
and wind.
***
My friend Pam Robinson sent this via WhatsApp after spending some time with her grandsons, and I just had to share it, being the mother and grandmother of boys.
***
***
Obituary
.
when I die
if they say of me
she lived her life joyfully
she lived it utterly
she made the most of every day
she didn’t fritter time away
she was habitually free
they lie
too many books
is why
***
***
The Joy of Having a Dog
.
It’s not the shape of his head
or the shine of his coat;
not the smell of wet fur
or the noise from his throat;
not the whisper of licks
that tickle your face;
not the shame in his look
when he’s fallen from grace;
not the tricks that he learned
’cause he likes the rewards.
It’s the times you’re upset
and he holds out his paw;
it’s the bliss on his face
as you rub down his back;
the knowledge that you’re
the main man in his pack;
the wag in his tail
as it’s quickly unfurled;
the love in his eyes
that says you’re his world.
***
Our boy Bobo is fifteen today. Happy birthday, lovely boy xxx
Of course I was going to include a dog poem for Be Kind to Animals Week 🙂
Oh, and happy birthday to my lovely sister-in-law, who shares the day 😉 🙂
***
***
***
***
The Spider
.
For Paul, who taught me to appreciate them
Tiny. Hairy. Silent. Long-legged horror of the homemaker,
the weightlifter, the CEO, the labourer, the PM,
the unhappy cleaner – though you are the saviour
of many an uninfected human, whose bothersome housefly
never landed on their food, never excreted foul
disease, never had that opportunity because you beckoned
it into your pretty gingerbread web…your home…
…into your kitchen…your larder. And in return,
giants squeal at sight of you; kill you
on sight in their ridiculous fright because you
do not fit their narrow parameters of beauty.
***
It is Be Kind to Animals Week in the US so I thought I’d begin with the much-maligned house spider. Yes, I know there are killer spiders out there (I’ve met a few) but this poem is about house spiders, which do much more good than harm, even looking butt-ugly (I also have narrow parameters, it seems).
Please put spiders outside rather than kill them; you’ll be doing yourself and the planet a favour (or ‘favor’ for my American readers, whose week I have appropriated).
***
On a side note, this poem (excluding title and dedication) consists of 88 words, with eight words per line. Just because 🙂
***
***
The Only View I Want
.
don’t give me your mountains
your valleys
your trees
your mist
the only view I want
is the first page
of a new book
by a favourite author
and a spare hour
***
***
Helpless
.
That moment in a group of mostly strangers
when you admit to yourself that your stomach
is going to do its own thing;
you cannot leave;
it will not stop.
You are
at the mercy
of the gurgle.
You hold your breath until you are purple:
futile.
All you can do is give thanks
that it’s a mere gurgle
and not something more…corporeal.
***
***
Pam Won an Award
.
Pam won an award
and the Mayor coughed
for her wonderful service to our community
and the Mayor coughed
a King’s Coronation Award
and the Mayor sneezed
usually called Mayor’s Awards
the Mayor forgot to turn off his microphone
in Coronation years they are named after the monarch
the Mayor rasped into the microphone
Pam was first up to receive her award
the Mayor coughed in his aide’s face
so, Pam was the first person in Stockport in seventy years
the Mayor coughed again
the Mayor sneezed
to win a coronation award
the Mayor shook hands
kissed cheeks
sneezed and coughed and rattled his throat
a King’s Coronation Award
and the Mayor coughed
***
Many congratulations to my friend Pam Robinson, who deserves this award and more, for all the wonderful work she does in our community.
She was in excellent company that night in Stockport Council Chambers, and it was clear that the Mayor, bless him, despite being ill, very much wanted to be there to congratulate all of the award winners in person.
Luckily for Pam, as she was first up he hadn’t quite hit his stride, so she didn’t get a kiss or a handshake, and stayed healthy.
***
***
Poetry Fluff 