In dreams

I find the answers

To my searching,

In scenes

Depicted of

Another world.

On waking

I redeem

My body,

Reclaim my soul,


Quite unfurled.


Of a weird  and

Winding nature,


Enacted in

Etheric plain.

With smile

On lips

And laughter

Surging upwards

I rejoin life,

New perspectives gained.



Following the rules. But…..

Steve has added a new rule to his instructions. 😦 Number 4 says, ‘No Cheating’.

Well, he must have been reading my mind because I so wanted to be able to include a song I’ve been listening to all week in my car going to and from work. But it never came up on the shuffle mix. Possibly because it’s not on my I-pod. This song is on one of the mixed CDs my sixteen year old daughter makes up. And I’ve played it till the blood was streaming. I do that. A lot. Play it loud!

Don’t you just want to dance to it? Quite awkward when you’re driving. But possible. Fact.


On to the honest mix. 🙂

Where have you come from? is the first of the three questions before hitting play on shuffle mode.

Are You Gonna Be My Girl,   Jet

Ummm. Like this but not saying much to me at all at all. Except, maybe…..different sort of dancing here? Head banging as  I listen. Shoulders going. Hips having a good time. 🙂

Where are you at? 2nd question

Audience and Audio, Twin Atlantic

Loving the accent on this. Recognise it? And the rhythm and beat. Yup, another dancey of the , ‘I’ve got a sore head’ variety.

And, ‘Why don’t we?’, come to think about it.

3rd question. Where are you going? Feck, as if I know! Does anyone? Seriously?

A Little Less Conversation, Elvis Presley

Well, what seems to be apparent is that I quite like rock. In all its various stages. Knew that anyway.

But, other common factors here? Em, maybe, act. Don’t just keep talking. But, if you’re gonna talk make it worth listening to. Maybe? Either that or just dance. That’s always a good alternative to other types of inaction.

Happy Friday! Have a smasher of a weekend. And remember to dance. Very liberating. If you’re reading this Jen, just do it.

Especially to the first one. Irresistible I’ve found. All week.

Here, I might have a look at what I actually do listen to each week. See if that gauges how I’ve been feeling. Um, have to think about that one.

Addendum:- If I’m being perfectly honest. (Fuck! Why can’t I just lie and shut up?) All of these posts were political and social to me. At least in the lyrics. Why the hell don’t we speak up and act instead of talking about ourselves? We are the foxes and the hounds are on the run.

But I refuse to ‘do’ politics on a Friday night.

Add-addendum. (I know it’s not a word!)  Thoroughly enjoy this, Steve, I’ve come to find. Like a wee reflection on my week. Almost psychically. 😉 In all honesty, I’ve been strutting my stuff and having a good time in and out of work with a bit of attitude thrown in for good measure. So that might account for the rock. Ya think?




Hands Up!

Hands up if you’ve ever brushed your teeth in school… a classroom…..with every other child in your class?

Wait, let me count. Hands right up……That would be nearly none, I’m thinking. Very close to zero. And, quite possibly, a what the hell is she talking about? Yeah, me too.

Why the hell has it become the case that teachers have now become responsible in many schools for the dental hygiene of the weans?

And I don’t mean teaching the children about the benefits of good oral hygiene, how necessary it is to reduce intake of sugary and acidic foods to allay the onset of dental caries. Neither do I mean carrying out a little project looking at the composition of the tooth from enamel through to nerve. Nor looking at the dental formula for canines, incisors and molars. Nor looking at a model of the human tooth while identifying all the ways to keep them healthy and avoid the dreaded filling or extraction.

No. I’m talking about 30 odd toothbrushes, in a handy plastic covered box, distributed each day to every child who then lines up to have a little bit of toothpaste squirted on it by teacher. Then have the whole toothbrushing experience timed for two minutes while Miss issues appropriate instructions.

If there is anything that gets my gag reflex going it is being in the same room as someone brushing their teeth. I don’t quite know why but it is akin, for me, to having someone scrape their nails down a chalkboard. I shudder. I suppress as best I can a salivary onslaught that threatens to induce vomit.

I witnessed this little spectacle recently and tried with every fibre of my being not to boak at the sound and sight of so many engaged in what I think is quite a personal task.

I use an electric one so I hear its gentle buzz rather than the sound of a brush on teeth. But I can’t even be in the same room as my kids when they brush. I did it in the early days and even brushed them for them when they were young. But that’s a bit like changing your own wean’s shitty nappy. Can do.

My main point here, however, is less to do with this nauseating practice than it is to do with the fact that parental responsibility is either being hijacked or abrogated and I’m fed up with teachers being asked to carry the can for every task that was once the responsibility of parents.

There is so much more that I could write here. And I intend to.

I’m looking at education in a different light these days. Have been for some time. But it’s coming to a head. Rising, as it were. A bit like the bile I feel rising in my throat every time I attend another meeting where we, as teachers, are informed of the latest piece of nonsense that is now ours to carry. While I question, ‘What about literacy and numeracy?’

As it happens, I consider myself something of an expert on multiple aspects of education. But I never signed up to be a feckin’ dentist.


You soothed my soul and carried me

To dawning

Escaping dreams

That haunted in the night.

Lifted me on wings as bright 

As morning

Healed my heart

And gave my vision sight.

For the first time in a long time

I lay sleeping

While fears and worries

Flew afar, it seems.

All because your presence

In my living

Recaptured hope

Pervaded all my dreams.




I am not a number…

….but today I was. Number two, in fact. Not the one I would have picked, as it happens, but there was no choice. I was not the only number two in the school. I encountered a few others. There were also number ones and fours and tens. There were numbers in the hundreds and even the thousands.

The whole school lost their identity for the day. It was returned to them at the end of the school day. For the duration of their time in school everyone was identified by a number.

The aim was to allow everyone to recognise the importance of our sense of identity. It was done to highlight Articles 7 and 8 of the UNICEF Convention on the Rights of the Child.

Article 7 (Registration, name, nationality, care): All children have the right to a legally registered name, officially recognised by the government. Children have the right to a nationality (to belong to a country). Children also have the right to know and, as far as possible, to be cared for by their parents.

Article 8 (Preservation of identity): Children have the right to an identity – an official record of who they are. Governments should respect children’s right to a name, a nationality and family ties.

When I heard this was going to happen last week I had an uncomfortable feeling. I didn’t know that I felt so strongly about my name. Yeah, I correct people when they spell it wrongly. An e at the end of Ann, if you please. And a hyphen between Anne and Marie. I know! But maybe we all feel a bit particular about our names. I’ve always liked mine. Never really wished to be called anything else.

I wasn’t really happy at the idea. And it was a very weird experience today being called, ‘Number Two’ or ‘Please Miss, Number Two’.

I hated calling the kids by a number. And I don’t even know all their names yet as this is a new school for me and I’m in and out of so many classes I might meet almost every child in the course of the week. It should have made it easier just being able to say the number that was on their badge. But it reminded me of people being branded with symbols to identify who they were. It made me think of how awful it must be for people who don’t know their true identity or who have forgotten it. Or who have had it removed. It did make me realise how important our sense of identity is to ourselves and that a name as well as nationality are vital in retaining it.

It’s not an experience I would care to repeat. But, I’m glad in a lot of ways that the children and the adults had the opportunity to see what it felt like to be nameless. A very simple right but one, if revoked, has huge implications on how we feel about ourselves and who we are.

There will be lots of discussion tomorrow.


This is well after the fact for this DP challenge. But hey ho! It just happened to link in with this post.


Planned Obsolescence

It started with a ball point,

A little plastic pen.

Forget replacement cartridge.

Buy new, begin again.


Before too long, repairing

Became something of a myth.

Discard the old, spend afresh.

Commerce’s great self gift.


Advancements in technology

Had ideas about forever

But panic is a fearsome foe.

Reduce their spending? Never!


‘We’ll have to get a grip on this

Before the market fails.

Put a halt on progress, chaps, or

We’ll be going off the rails.’


‘How about some plotting then?

Some bugs to keep them keen?

Repairs cost more than buying new?

Nudge, wink. Know what I mean?’


‘You’re joking, man, they’re not that daft.

Unless of course we’re wary.

This could save our arses, guys.

Penury is scary.’


‘How about we use components

That fail in maybe five years?

That would keep them buying.’

‘Sure, we’ve found the answer. Cheers!’


‘Now profit margin’s down a bit.

Some work is needing done

On putting up the ante, folks.

This could be such fun!’


‘Keep in reserve the best of stuff

And filter through the trash,

Give them a taste of what’s to come.

Same stuff, we’ll just rehash.’


‘We’re owed some homage for our work,

Humility, some obeisance.

We’ll get our kicks, lads, never fear

By planning obsolescence.’


It never ends. Manipulation.

Market forces, it seems,

Determine days from when a pen was filled

For inscribing future dreams.



“Women are Sluts, Men are Studs” Giving the Patriarchs a Row.

Now, my lovely friend, Rene, has been running crash courses on all sorts of stuff I’m interested in. And I don’t have the time to re-study. So these wee 10-15 minute chunks are just my cuppa.

John and Hank Green – brothers – combining their many talents to educate the world. And I think that they’re great at it. Ok, it’s bite-sized but that’s kind of what is happening to education. Whole other discussion. But these chunks are entertaining and encapsulate the essence of the subject at hand.

My favourite bit in this one might be John giving the patriarchs a row as he…well, listen for yourself. The whole thing is entertaining but the section I’m referring to is from 6.55-7.57. An even smaller bite-size, if 12 minutes is too long.

Think I’m gonna go read The Odyssey now. See, there’s merit in these courses. Just won’t get you into college.

It’s a bit like watching the Open University course programmes. You don’t have to study because you’re just watching for fun at 2a.m. or thereabouts. Nobody’s going to test you afterwards. And you get to say, to no one in particular because no one’s watching them with you, ‘That’s very interesting’. And nod sagely. Before heading to bed with your head stuffed full of stuff you may never need in your life. But hey, I like it.

At least with John and Hank they’re modern. The Open University programmes have been kicking around since the year dot. The outfits and hair do’s testify to that. I think they only update them when something major changes. Like, once they knew the world wasn’t flat, they made a new video.

Death Of Trust

Doubt everything but love,

given freely;

Receive such gift, offered

      without account.

Forbidding, when there is

no guarantee;

No clause to ponder, how it

may amount.

Though true-spoken, some

doubt veracity;

Hold mistrust as icon, tho’

no favour,

Seek loneliness, proclaim

their liberty

In charnel house, where no life

to savour.

Assistance Needed

A wonderful blogger I follow
is starting up a new site with prompts for all sorts of bloggers. She’s also looking for some help in facilitating the site. I haven’t got a clue but maybe there are some who have?
There will be prompts for photographers/artists as well as poets and writers of various genre including children’s stories.
It’s the start of a new venture and another avenue with opportunities to extend readership as well as tackle new and old styles.
It’s just beginning so it would be lovely to be in at the start of a promising new opportunity.
Her header is “We’re all out there, somewhere, waiting to happen.”
It says a lot about who she is and her outlook on life.

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie


I am looking for individuals willing to assist with my new prompt site. Ideally I would be in charge of Sunday Monday and Tuesday.

I would like someone for

Wednesday’s Haiku/Tanka Share

Thursday’s Short Story Share

Friday’s Fairytale Share

Saturday’s Shadorma Share

If you agree to help I will add you as an author. I will host all the challenges until which time I acquire recruits.

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Friday Music Mix Questions and Answers

Hi Steve,

You find me once again chilling on a Friday. Aren’t we all?

So Steve asks this week:-

If I ruled the word

People would be more honest and forthcoming. Might not answer everything but it would be a start. How many times have you wished people would just say what they mean, for the love of god!

Blues In the Night, Katie Melua

‘A man is a two face…blues in the night…My mama done told me’.

If Only I could

Follow Me, Kid Rock and Uncle Kracker

Yup! Follow me! ‘I’ll be the one to tuck you in at night…you won’t find nobody else like me…better off if  you don’t ask why…I make you free…swim through your veins like a fish in the sea…you won’t find nobody else like me.’ A blogger’s mantra?

If I had a million dollars

The Times They Are A-Changing, Bob Dylan

‘The times they are a-changing…better start changing or you’ll sink like a stone…come writers and critics who prophesy with your pen….come senators, congressmen please hear the call…the times they are a-changing …come mothers and fathers…your sons and your daughters are beyond your command….the line it is drawn…the present now will later be past…’

I wish I’d written this!

A cover version. Because the times are changing and still we walk on by while others speak the truth.

And another week passes. Have a great weekend. 🙂 x