Toss Up

Dear God,

Not to sound ungrateful or anything and many thanks for all these bounteous blessings including a husband, seven weans and a mortgage but I feel you may have overlooked a blessing or two when you were dishing them out.

Now, I’m not pointing this out for just myself, mind you, although I would be eternally grateful.

Think fasting from all sorts for Lent.

Mhmm, that much.

It might have escaped your notice because I know you’re busy with major problems and this might seem like a bit out of your league. Cool, pass it on to one of your minions. You must have an angel for this because I know you’re keen on delegation. Maybe this one’s satnav is on the fritz? Send him. Or her. Not fussed.

I’ll let my husband have a word and point out where Glasgow is because I’m not too good on the whole directional thingy. Been unintentinally over that squinty bridge a few too many times for my liking. Not my fault I have to say. Someone changed the roads or the signs or something. Sorry, I’m wandering again.

The point is I really think you’re missing a great opportunity here to spread the love. Let me explain.

It’s like this.

Five weeks ago to the day the schools here broke up for the summer holidays.

That’s it.


Something’s gone wrong and you might not have noticed, what with all sorts of idiocy going on in the world. Why did you let the House of Lords be a thing? Surely, that should be for yourself and, well, yourself really? Is that it? Were you lonely? Thought you’d open up the chapter to a whole other chapter. You so do not want to know what’s going on with that idea. Or maybe that’s what’s keeping you busy. I can imagine how pissed you must be that some lords are not as cool as you.

Anyway, the point of this missive is that, while you’ve been looking elsewhere, someone’s stolen our summer. Really. I shit you not. They obviously left enough random days to make like it still might be around. And I can be slow on the uptake, I know. But, when I can count on the one hand – btw, does it matter which hand it is? – how many days I’ve been able to hang a washing out and chill among it all, I know something’s more seriously amiss than usual.

I’m a bit concerned about this global warming fiasco that’s been making inroads into this lovely planet of yours – kudos on a job well done at the outset. I know you’re probably irked about that too. And I don’t blame you. You maybe think we deserve all the drought or downpours we get in different places.

But, is there any chance, even just a wee one, that you could swap things around a bit?

Just for a spell.

Not that I’m suggesting you use magic or anything but you’ve always been quite handy with the miracles when needed. Fact is, I can count more miracles than sunny days hereabouts. Which is good in lots of ways – not complaining at all about those. Just mentioning.

But here’s the thing, if you don’t do something about this god-awful weather – slip of the tongue, soz – I might be tempted to move to another country and Spanishmomus just doesn’t have the same ring to it, I’m thinking.

I’d pack the whole crew up, lock, stock and mortgage and learn Spanish or some other language with declensions. That’s how desperate I am.

I’ve told my kids I’m having a word with you today and they’re beginning to doubt you listen at all – despite the miracles, which some term a series of fortunate events.

Now, I might have something to do with that growing doubt, given that I’m forever prone to ejacualtions of the, ‘Jesus, Mary and Holy Joseph’ and ‘Sacred Heart’ variety. I mean if you were really listening you’d ensure the kids knew my prayers were heard.

I’m telling you, you’re going to end up with a shower of wee atheists at this rate. Want that on your conscience?

I’m thinking something along the lines of you extending this one sunny day here today – which, even as I speak, is turning overcast, for-the-love-of-all-that’s-holy! – into a fortnight maybe.

Too much?

A week?

Tell you what, let’s toss for it. Souls for sunny days. If you don’t get in quick your arch enemy will see an opening and I know enough people who are about ready to trade.

Let’s do it before you-know-who gets wind of it.

Heads you win. Tails you can’t lose.

And I get to hang my washing out.





No pics of me with Paul’s new book (Baldy looks better than I do first thing in the morning!) But he’s absolutely right when he describes this eleventh book of Paul’s – words from a gentleman and a fine poet – and a pleasure to read and hold. Congratulations, Paul. And go, Baldy, for being way braver than I am. 🙂


Sorry for poor picture, I just got up! Sorry for poor picture, I just got up!

Baldy is the proud owner of Paul F. Lenzi’s new book!  Apologies for the ‘mauled by goblins’ appearance, this bleary eyed pic was taken shortly after I rose and, lets face it, I’m not the prettiest person when fully conscious!  A huge thank you to Paul for the poetry.  I have long been an admirer of Mr. Lenzi’s writing, there are few as dedicated to the craft.  Even the dedication in his new book is poetic.  I am delighted and urge others to delve in to this creative masterpiece.

Small Noise, Existential Echoes is published by Stonewood Press.  I highly recommend following Paul on his poetry blog: Poesy Plus Polemics.

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