The Meaningful Key

Minus mic,

his voice still carried,

barely and with just enough humour

to detect genuine humility

and passion.

He spoke

of early sadness,

not being good enough


finding meaning.

He spoke

of childhood,

of family split

and dodging school

to fail.

He spoke

of finding

worth in himself

through purpose

and work

and sharing

a shed

with rats,


scary spiders

and other youths

in a far-off land

where native children

were taught in awe and desperation,

drinking thirstily,

desperate for education.

He spoke

of forgiving himself

and his mum,

of whispered prayer

to find strength.

He spoke

of changes

in direction

to aspire

to doctor dream,

of local service

then returning

to Africa,

giving back

what he had found.

He spoke

of waiting soon

his first child –

to spontaneous applause

at his awed thrill.

His face lit

the stage.

A lad, I thought,

of tender years

for nothing


his glowing face.

But experience

lent truth

to his age

and joy in life.

From sad and broken beginnings,

he spoke,

while I choked back tears

at radiant happiness

and a voice

that spoke

to youths

and adults alike.

He spoke

of finding

the meaningful key.


Round In Circles

I don’t really have any right to accept the Liebster Award because my followers exceed 200. Yay! But, I haven’t followed the rules with these awards for quite some time. So I’m not going back in time to the early days of blogging to abide by every rule. Once I’ve broken a rule I quite like pushing to see how far I can go. I had a tame teenage life so I have to rebel now…and again.

Lovely Hillary at ‘‘Why Is There Bread In My Kool-Aid?’’ (fab title, eh? I’ll let you check out why), thinks I deserve it. So, given that I spent my earliest years and so many in between thinking I didn’t deserve things, I’m accepting it.

Now that makes it sound like I didn’t get things or was a bit sad about what I thought I did/ didn’t deserve. But it’s not like that at all. Like so many of my generation, it was indeed a different world back then. Less was more. And expectations were limited to what you believed possible. Money was that thing dad gave mum, mum managed and was spent on rent and food and stuff that kept the homefires burning. It was for camping holidays or the odd B&B. Most of those wouldn’t take a clan at one sitting so camping it was. It was for Christmas and birthday presents, essentially, of my mum’s choosing. And I was always pleasantly surprised.

Except one year when I got a pair of ball-bearing skipping ropes and a bag of pick ‘n’ mix. This is what occasionally happens when your birthday is in January.

What I really wanted was what my sister had received in October. A silver sharpener. I kid you not. One with two holes that took all sizes of pencils. I don’t know what else she received that year. I just couldn’t see past that sharpener. God help me, I’ve been fixated on stationery all my life. Very sad I know. But I just love those shops. I get quite moist and excited going into Paperchase or WH Smith or the aisles in the supermarket devoted to such. My kids go mental when I start browsing there. I love it. Like book shops. I go a bit dreamy eyed and cross-eyed in those too.

I don’t know if it’s because of that silver sharpener or not. That would probably require more psychoanalytical skills than I possess. And maybe a bit of hypnotic regressive therapy. But I like those two little addictions. Who am I gonna hurt with books and sharpeners, eh?

I’m in heaven now in my own little home office. Where I get to have my bits and pieces around me. Staple and staplers, index cards and labels. Lots of paper. I know. I might be quite anal, actually. Except that I don’t necessarily use them. I just quite like having them. Except the paper. I use reams of that stuff. I still love the feel of a pen on paper. It’s mesmerising to me. Sends me off on one. Even just doodling.

Now why am I blethering on about crap like this?

Well, god knows really. Except that having less meant making more of what you did have. So I read. A lot. A lot, a lot. Like all the time. So much so that my mum said I wasn’t an ordinary child, ‘for the love of Jesus go out to play.’ Well, that was ok sometimes. Like playing ‘kick the can’ or hide and seek. Or rounders. But the best times were when dad took us on forays on a Sunday, out to the country. Which was local then. Now it’s built up so much that he wouldn’t recognise it. My granda would have kittens at what they’ve done to the greenbelt. I’m having kittens at what they’ve done to the greenbelt. Despite protests.

When dad was there I was safe. ‘Cos there were big scary bastards out playing with us. And some wee ones I was terrified of too. All age groups mingled. And some of them swore. Seriously, they did. They used bad words that offended my ears. And I was a crapper. My wee sister learned to say, ‘fuck off’ quite early. And therein lay her courage and brave shadow that I could hide behind. Cowering. In case there were monsters. That’s what happens when you read too much and your imagination is allowed to go into overdrive. Monsters everywhere.

I got better when I learned how to swear. Seriously, I was about 14 or so. My eldest brother winded my sister – the brave one. And I called him a, ‘Bbbbbbbaaaaassssttttaaaarrrddd’. That’s how long it took me to force it out between my lips. He was gobsmacked! It was wonderful. He even tried to get back on my good side and ask me not to tell mum about it. He knew he had crossed the boundary when I actually swore at him. How liberating.

I didn’t take to it like a duck to water or anything. I kept it for what my brother liked to call ‘special occasions’. He was usually the recipient.

Now I’m somewhat more liberal in my use of expletives. I got to realise that they’re words. Just words. But some words have more power than others. Depending on who, when, why, what.

And this brings me back right round. I do usually get there in the end.

Words. I love them. More than anything they make me gaga. More than staples and paper. Yes, even more than paper. Which I just love. Have you felt the quality of some of that stuff?

And ‘words’ is where the Liebster Award comes in. It’s where I came in nine months ago. To WordPress. When I fired a few posts out. Well, a lot actually. I had found something, somewhere to talk where, even if people told me to shut up, I could just put my fingers in my ears and go, ‘la,la,la,la,la.’

Sooo, yes…talking a lot. That would be from the quiet child over there who couldn’t say, ‘fuck’ once upon a book ago.

What I really want to say is thank you. It’s not a year that I’ve been here. But it also feels like a really short life-time. Thank you to those of you who read my meanderings and poems that start off one way and finish up another. Thank you for commenting. Thanks for sharing your mind with me. For opening up and not being the big scary bastards I might have once thought bloggers were. And who knew what blogging was anyway? Not me, for sure.

I’m not going to answer any questions for a couple of reasons. One, I’m not entitled to this award. And two, if you really want to know just ask and I’ll tell you.

These are the questions I will answer if you really want to know. Or you can ask me anything else. And I might answer.

Questions from Hillary to me:-

1. What’s your favorite genre to read?

2. When you write do you require silence or can you have “life” happen around you?

3. Do your friends and family know you blog?

4. Have you been published?

5. Are you an introvert or an extrovert?

6. When you are writing, does it swallow you up or do you allow yourself to be interrupted constantly?

7. What program do you write in?

8. What has been your least favorite job?

9. What has been your most favorite job?

10. What brings you the most peace and contentment?

11.  What makes you snort with laughter?

Nominees. Now this I’m going to do. For some reason people are very backward at coming forward when you say, ‘Grab!’ So, here are the ones I’ve discovered fairly recently through links to other people I follow. A funny mummy It only takes Google translate to use words across the world. photography and a few rants that I can’t help smile at even while sympathising with the reasoning.  Gorgeous poetry.

I have no idea except for the first whether these blogs ‘qualify’ for the award based on numbers. But I figure they deserve note. And when else am I gonna walk on the wild side where I can break a few rules?

If you want to follow the rules here they are. Good at passing on the rules, you see. Might speak volumes that. 😉


  • 1. Thank the blogger who nominated you:
  • 2. Answer the 11 questions given to you
  • 3. Nominate 11 other blogs
  • 4. Post 11 questions for your nominees to answer
  • 5.Tag your nominees & post a comment on their blog to let them know you nominated them

new-leibster So, thank you, Hillary for the thought and the award. Thanks to all of you. Many, many thanks for letting me bend your lugs. 😉 x

P.S. To all you lovely people who have nominated me for other awards I hope I have remembered to thank you individually and not missed anyone out. I just don’t always do a post on them unless it comes up my humph. And it did tonight. I still appreciate them so much. But if I followed all the rules I’d never write anything else. And I just can’t do that. Love to all who show their caring in this way. And thank you.x

In Awe

In Awe. Alternative award post. Video rather than written. Well, I’m shattered! And relaxing. And talking is so much easier than writing. Well, it is. 🙂 x


Ali And I don’t even know how I managed to leave Ali out of my video. I’m not doing the video again. Are you joking me? It’s tomorrow already. But, Ali, one of the truth speakers on difficult subjects, you’re there with the others mentioned. Blame Friday. And tiredness. 😉

Rene You rock! Hang on in there. When the deal is done you can raise the victory. One direction or other.

Shirley Soul sister fearlessly living and telling it how it is.

Trey Not his funny posts but an insight into a difficult subject. The funnies are well worth a read though!

Morgan Just so romantic! And words worthy of love.

John Afraid. And unafraid. Touching subjects some just dare to.

Desiree The eyes of the world. And a soul.

Poetic Passions Not one of his risque ones! But I love this. My absolute favourite.

Maryrose One of the ones that Maryrose does so well.  Listens to whispers on the wind then passes on truth that free thoughts.

Mike Learning what matters. And proving it in words. And in living.

Kerry Thanks, Kerry. Isn’t it awful always to need a nudge to get going? 😉





Me talk? Never!

Anyone who knows me

Knows I like a natter.

I really try to never gossip

But I admit I like to chatter.


I also can be very quiet

Then people ask, ‘what’s up?’

As if somehow my silence means

I’m angry or fed up.


It usually means I’m thinking

Or daydreaming all the while,

I have to say to them, ‘ I’m fine’

And remember to give a smile.


Since blogging here I’ve never stopped

Jawing with new mates.

Some even know it’s caused some grief

With my family who hates


The fact that I am gone awol

Several hours a day.

I say to them it’s just a means

Of having time to play,


Just like them, though better yet

For, in this lovely place,

Dialogue and writing

Receives awards to place


Upon a page where I can look,

Every now and then,

And be thankful that some people read

What pours forth from my pen.


A fellow poet, Morgan,

Awarded me another,

Blog Of 2013,

Along with several others.


A few days later Kerry gave

Another, just the same,

I get to rise up through the stars

And put them by my name.


It’s a privilege when I’m so bestowed,

But it’s really rather humbling

To respond as if I’m such a talent,

When really I’m just mumbling


Words with those who peruse a lot

And ‘like’ a daily read

I’m flattered still, delighted, for

They nourish and they feed


Enthusiasm for this place

Where everyone’s so kind

To read and comment back to me;

Silence would worry at my mind.


I have the honour of selecting then

All those that I enjoy,

My daily reads, my favourites.

A task I try hard to avoid.


To pick a few, just some of those

Who fill my daily life,

Who add so much to my portrayal

As mother, sister, wife


And all the other roles I play

In living every day.

Writing here and reading

Has enriched so much of my days.


And nights as well, if truth be told,

Waking up with thoughts in mind

Jotting them down quickly

But in the morning, often find


I cannot read what I have written

Unless I recollect

My dreams of night and images,

I’m beginning to suspect


That, if I could, I’d do this job

For nothing. Yes, no pay,

If someone else would pay the bills

Or if they’d simply go away.


Alas, alack, I have to work

Just like many here

Irritating, isn’t it, when mind

Exists elsewhere?


I’m finding now that, at odd times,

Not always most convenient,

I want to sit and write my thoughts

But my boss would not be lenient


If she found that I was shirking,

Though important to my thinking,

Writing when I have to teach,

Everything that people say, I’m linking


To blogs or posts I want to write.

I told you I can’t stop.

It’s just like chatting out my thoughts,

I’ll do it till I drop


From verbal disease that must occur

If talking does not cease,

If writing everything I think,

Just will not give me peace.


I have to go though I’m in flow

With daily idle chatter,

I haven’t had my dinner yet!

And though that does not matter,


I have to keep my energy

Levels on the up.

Otherwise I may be forced

To pause or just shut up.


If you have read all this way down

Please enter your name here

In the comments section

Worry not, please have no fear


I will not phone your mobile

Or plan oral onslaught.

Simply that, next time round,

You deserve award!


No hauf in hand, no glass of wine.

This is just the way I am.

Apologies for being verbose,

This might go to your spam!


So here we are, I got there

Right to the very end.

Pick some bloggers that I love,

Those that feel like friends.


But some don’t do it any more.

I get their point of view.

I honour feelings in this matter,

But what’s a girl to do?


I know. I’ll nominate them anyway.

I really can’t do otherwise.

My daily reads are too important,

Please do not despise


The sentiment is still heartfelt,

There’s really not much grind.

Mine is long, ‘cos after haikus,

I needed to empty mind!

Blog of the Year Award 1 star jpeg Blog of the Year Award 2 star jpeg

The instructions for this award are simple:

1 Select the blog(s) you think deserve the ‘Blog of the Year 2013’ Award

2 Write a blog post and tell us about the blog(s) you have chosen – there are no minimum or maximum number of blogs required – and ‘present’ the blog(s) with their award.

3 Let the blog(s) that you have chosen know that you have given them this award and share the instructions with them – (please don’t alter the instructions or the badges!)

4 Come over and say hello to the originator of the ‘Blog of the Year 2013’ Award via this link –

5 You can now also join the ‘Blog of the Year’ Award Facebook page – click the link here and share your blog posts with an even wider audience.

6 And as a winner of the award – please add a link back to the blog that presented you with the award – and then proudly display the award on your blog … and start collecting stars…

Guilt Trip – Mark ll

Strictly speakin’, this isnae actually a new post ‘cos it’s the wan ah posted yisturday!  Guilt Trip

Bu’ a few folk huv commented oan ma video readins an’ ah think that they aw think that that’s the wiy ah talk aw the time. An’ it’s no’.

So, ahm offerin’ an alternative here fur yer delights. If ye kin make oot wit ahm sayin’ then good fur you! You’re a linguist ae soarts.


Strictly speaking, this isn’t actually a new post because it is yesterday’s post!

But, a few people have commented on my video readings and I think that they all think that that’s the way I speak all the time! But it’s not.

So, I’m offering an alternative here for your delights. If you can make out what I’m saying then good for you! You’re a linguist of sorts.

Guilt Trip Mark ll