Buddha Knows Best


waiting for first coat to dry

pegging out clothes on the line

ivory tint in ponytailed hair

clotted cream scones tasting fine


pen and a coffee at hand

doodling flowers in the sun

soda and lime and ink on a page

ecstatic that summer has come


music chosen by kids

buddha sat under tree

lotused repose in semi-closed eyes

replete and contented like me


windows of soul opened wide

faint breeze to filter on through

leaves of green gratitude canopies all

wishing the same for all you


May Music, Day 7 – Memory’s Going…going…not quite there yet…

First, I want to apologise for this one although I don’t know why I’m apologising to you. For all I know you might love this song. But it sets my teeth on edge. I can feel a twitch starting in my right shoulder and my eyes are screwing up as if I were squinting against last year’s glorious sunshine. I had a real job trying to remember any songs from last summer to answer Twindaddy’s question of which song reminded me of that time.

Getting on a bit now, at 53, my poor brain finds it difficult to remember what I was doing an hour ago or what I walked into a room for. Ask me about thirty years ago and I’ll regale you with in-depth detail on colours, sights and sounds. But last year feels like a bit of a blur.

Apart from my age then, oh to be 52 again, there was the problem with vitamin D levels that was uncovered and went a long way to explaining why I felt like crap all the time, falling asleep at the drop of a hat and limbs full of aches and pains. I thought it was decrepiticity (it should be a word) arriving and was just about to break out cod liver oil for impending brittle bones and was preparing snide comebacks for a family of ingrates that think seeing their mother keeling over on the couch in snoring oblivion is a great hoot.

Thanks to frantic research on the internet I found out what was wrong with me all by my lonesome and requested additional blood tests. Bingo. Guess what you need to up vitamin D levels that have plummeted to below 20? Huge doses of natural source and supplements.

Now, as it happens, last summer was a beezer here in old Scotia. Marked in calendars everywhere as one of the best. Sun. Sun. And then some more. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when the doctor signed me off work and told me to get as much as I could. Minus the sunscreen for part of the time. Parts of the time? Aye, like that was gonna happen. I lay in a lounger, read some, dozed some, turned over, baked myself and turned and then basted for browning. Done to a ‘T’ I was. And I love the sun. Worship wouldn’t be too far off the mark.

Anyway, what this has to do with music and what I’m about to post is a bit vague, I know. But I had to write something. And, other than beginning blogging last June because my sister told my brother that I was vegetating in the house, unable to do any chores or even concentrate on TV, there’s not a damn lot else I remember. Brother set me up with a blog. Ta da! Go Phil. Go Veronica for telling him in the first place.

Sunshine and a new interest and huge supplements did the trick.

So, to the song. I’m trying to delay the inevitable here.

I’ll give you some clues. As some of you may know, I’ve got 7 sprogs of my own and I teach primary school kids on a daily basis.  As much as I can’t consume a whole one at a single sitting, I do love weans. Except.

Except when they inflict things on you.

Anyone with offspring or nieces and nephews knows what I mean. Whatever is flavour of the month for them becomes your viewing, your listening. I sat through so many demos of this in school. Each kid prouder than the last that they had mastered the art.

My own wee yin, 6 then, had practised with her older sisters who’d seen the movie and nothing would do but that Anna should display her skills to her class. Whereupon the teacher sent her around the rest of the classes to show just what she could do. And she did. Song and actions.

Now I should probably have complained here at the fact that the teacher was probably snickering and using my wee doll for a spot of light entertainment. But what the feck. We teachers don’t get that many opportunities for a laugh in the face of mounting pressure to be everybody’s mammy or daddy. Whole other post.

Have you guessed yet?

Well, I’m not going to post the video here. I just can’t. But I will provide the link. Have at it! And this is a memory of last summer I hope will fade in time. No offence to the young lady in question and the multitude of tween followers she gathered.


Reason For The Season


For many of us the seasons are changing, bouncing unpredictably between cold and warm. Are you glad to be moving into a new season, or wishing for one more week of the old?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us SEASONS.

There’s a reason for the season

But I don’t know what it is.

It’s like someone plays

A song inside my heart.


There’s a difference in the air,

Makes my nostrils start to flare,

Scenting changes and

A special vital spark.


It’s alluring in its smell,

I can feel my spirit swell

And take flight among

The birds up in the sky.


There’s a slight nip and a chill

And a stronger breeze around.

It lifts my wings and

Causes me to fly.

Video reading Reason For The Season

Scottish Summers

Last year , summer passed us by.

Some people argue that we did, in fact, have it.

We had two lovely weeks in May.

Then it poured.

Almost non-stop through until Autumn.

I remember this because I bought two sun loungers in May (for the bargain price of £25 each) and didn’t bring them back out of the garden hut until this year.

What a bargain they were, eh?

I remember this because my husband is a self-employed gardener and his frustration last year at the weather was palpable. From a man whose moods are not governed by the weather.

I try not to listen to forecasts because they depress the hell out of me.

Some of my not-so-favourite forecasts include phrases like:-

Risk of showers. (It’s going to pour.)

Some sunny spells. (In between pouring rain.)

Heavy rain and high winds. (Speaks for itself.)

What I really want to hear is:-

‘Scotland, this year, will bask in Mediterranean weather conditions.

Due to overwhelming pressure from the Scottish public and tourists alike, I, God, have decided you need to up your Vitamin D levels and I hereby declare a weather amnesty.

Everyone will have the opportunity to enjoy my lovely beaches without an umbrella. Those majestic mountains I created will be seen from top to bottom instead of being shrouded in a hazy rain mist.

You may expose your wan, white flesh to the orb for a period of three months after which you will have a new season.

I realise I have exhausted your sense of humour with what I laughingly called four seasons. It was just a little experiment.

And now it’s over.

You will, from now on, have four distinct seasons.’

Please God, don’t make this announcement on 1st April.