Almost Communication

So, I found a collection of Rita Ann Higgins poetry on my book shelf this afternoon. No idea where it came from. Seeing as no one apart from my mother has picked up on the HINT that I can be bought poetry books as gifts, I can only presume I bought it myself. (Mother chose some Durcan for me.)

(Also, if I in fact borrowed this from you, please let me know. I have forgotten.)

So, while the baby yelled 'Mammy!!" from the cot, and the boys invented new ways to kill each other down stairs, I lay down on my bed, and had a little read.

I liked this one in particular...


Almost Communication

My father just passed me
in his Fiat 127
I was cycling my bicycle 'Hideous'.

They stopped at O'Meara's
for the Connacht Tribune.
As I passed I shouted
'road hog' in the window.

The occupants laughed.

Before this he owned
a Renault 12,
we called it
the 'Ballyhaunis cow killer'.

Later we meet outside the sister's,
'Wouldn't you think
he'd buy you a decent bike, the miser'.

'If he had your money,' I said
and we laughed.

The neighbours with their ears
to the rose bushes
think that we're great friends.

I haven't seen his eyes for years.

Almost Communication

So, I found a collection of Rita Ann Higgins poetry on my book shelf this afternoon. No idea where it came from. Seeing as no one apart from my mother has picked up on the HINT that I can be bought poetry books as gifts, I can only presume I bought it myself. (Mother chose some Durcan for me.)

(Also, if I in fact borrowed this from you, please let me know. I have forgotten.)

So, while the baby yelled 'Mammy!!" from the cot, and the boys invented new ways to kill each other down stairs, I lay down on my bed, and had a little read.

I liked this one in particular...


Almost Communication

My father just passed me
in his Fiat 127
I was cycling my bicycle 'Hideous'.

They stopped at O'Meara's
for the Connacht Tribune.
As I passed I shouted
'road hog' in the window.

The occupants laughed.

Before this he owned
a Renault 12,
we called it
the 'Ballyhaunis cow killer'.

Later we meet outside the sister's,
'Wouldn't you think
he'd buy you a decent bike, the miser'.

'If he had your money,' I said
and we laughed.

The neighbours with their ears
to the rose bushes
think that we're great friends.

I haven't seen his eyes for years.

Sugar and spice...

Middle child is in love.

Well, he's been in love for a while with a pretty little girl in his senior infants class. But even when you're six, love rarely runs smoothly. He confessed that a few of her games were 'a little obvious'. (I believe he was referring to the playground variety, rather than 'Men are from Mars, Women from Venus' style games.)

He looked serious and shook his head.

"She just sits there." he said. "Maybe she's thinking."

Then he uttered a sentence that must be hardwired into the male brain.

"I have no idea what girls think about."

I nearly crashed the car from laughing. I informed him that this question had troubled male minds for millennia. He nodded sagely.

He was silent and contemplative for a little while. Then he piped up.

"It's probably unicorns."

A better guess then some men :)

Sugar and spice...

Middle child is in love.

Well, he's been in love for a while with a pretty little girl in his senior infants class. But even when you're six, love rarely runs smoothly. He confessed that a few of her games were 'a little obvious'. (I believe he was referring to the playground variety, rather than 'Men are from Mars, Women from Venus' style games.)

He looked serious and shook his head.

"She just sits there." he said. "Maybe she's thinking."

Then he uttered a sentence that must be hardwired into the male brain.

"I have no idea what girls think about."

I nearly crashed the car from laughing. I informed him that this question had troubled male minds for millennia. He nodded sagely.

He was silent and contemplative for a little while. Then he piped up.

"It's probably unicorns."

A better guess then some men :)

For no reason other than I just love this clip

For no reason other than I just love this clip

A long short list? Or just genius?

It turns out the postman hadn't been neglecting me. On the mat, upon my return this afternoon was a lovely thick envelope. A result, from a competition! Oh the delight! Short listed in the Malahide Library short story competition. I didn't win, but they sent me a book as a consolation prize. Think I actually own the book already, but hey, I can re-gift it and save myself a tenner. So, in reality they've sent me ten quid as a prize. That makes me significantly financially better off than I was this morning.



So, I texted my joy to my partner in rhyme (groan) Ms DramaQueen. Turns out that she'd been short listed too!

And of course, I'm delighted for her - and vice versa (I hope! :)

But we artiste are sensitive souls... the doubts began to creep in as our text messages pinged through the Lucan air... exactly how short was this short list...??? (She and I know we are phenomenally talented writers - a little too good for the general populace, hence the fact that we've been passed over a few times - but our immense talent keeps us warm at night... )

So, c'mon, who else out there is having their short list glow ruined by me right now?

A long short list? Or just genius?

It turns out the postman hadn't been neglecting me. On the mat, upon my return this afternoon was a lovely thick envelope. A result, from a competition! Oh the delight! Short listed in the Malahide Library short story competition. I didn't win, but they sent me a book as a consolation prize. Think I actually own the book already, but hey, I can re-gift it and save myself a tenner. So, in reality they've sent me ten quid as a prize. That makes me significantly financially better off than I was this morning.



So, I texted my joy to my partner in rhyme (groan) Ms DramaQueen. Turns out that she'd been short listed too!

And of course, I'm delighted for her - and vice versa (I hope! :)

But we artiste are sensitive souls... the doubts began to creep in as our text messages pinged through the Lucan air... exactly how short was this short list...??? (She and I know we are phenomenally talented writers - a little too good for the general populace, hence the fact that we've been passed over a few times - but our immense talent keeps us warm at night... )

So, c'mon, who else out there is having their short list glow ruined by me right now?

Maybe

Drama Queen has been giving out that we've all stopped blogging cause Various is off-line. She's right! Its peculiar.

Its not that there haven't been amusing family shenanigans - exhibit a - Was arguing with eight year old son about the capital of Poland. He was swearing it was Gdansk and I was claiming it was Warsaw. He is eight and I have an honours degree from a recognised University. But by the time Mr Oubliette - the walking atlas - came home, I was beginning to doubt myself. Thankfully I was right! There is nothing more satisfying then pointing and yelling 'In your face!! In your face!!' to your first born child...

And what about the musings of our resident philosopher, aka, middle child? Of course he had some gems this week. Once again from the back of the car. He was looking out the window, and asked himself, in a tone of voice that suggested profound metaphysical ponderance, - 'I wonder who the coolest person in the world is?" Pause. "It's probably me..."

So, plenty of material there.

Maybe its because I've been so busy prepping for our first, First Holy Communion? (Also known here as 'The Suit Thing.' My children have the spirituality of a toffee...)

Maybe I've been tired out by busily writing loads on De Novel.

Maybe.. maybe..

MAYBE I'm just still so tired from the wedding of the year that I'm too exhausted to blog.

That is it. So, in fact Drama Queen is right - it is Various's fault!

Maybe

Drama Queen has been giving out that we've all stopped blogging cause Various is off-line. She's right! Its peculiar.

Its not that there haven't been amusing family shenanigans - exhibit a - Was arguing with eight year old son about the capital of Poland. He was swearing it was Gdansk and I was claiming it was Warsaw. He is eight and I have an honours degree from a recognised University. But by the time Mr Oubliette - the walking atlas - came home, I was beginning to doubt myself. Thankfully I was right! There is nothing more satisfying then pointing and yelling 'In your face!! In your face!!' to your first born child...

And what about the musings of our resident philosopher, aka, middle child? Of course he had some gems this week. Once again from the back of the car. He was looking out the window, and asked himself, in a tone of voice that suggested profound metaphysical ponderance, - 'I wonder who the coolest person in the world is?" Pause. "It's probably me..."

So, plenty of material there.

Maybe its because I've been so busy prepping for our first, First Holy Communion? (Also known here as 'The Suit Thing.' My children have the spirituality of a toffee...)

Maybe I've been tired out by busily writing loads on De Novel.

Maybe.. maybe..

MAYBE I'm just still so tired from the wedding of the year that I'm too exhausted to blog.

That is it. So, in fact Drama Queen is right - it is Various's fault!

A Novel Approach...

So, momentous moment, I have passed the 95k words mark in 'De Novel'. Its taken blood, sweat and tears - and with, I reckon, another 10/20 thou to write, there could be an ocean of bodily fluids to navigate yet.

But I fear I may have hit a problem. I reckon my novel is a bit of a weeble. Yes, you heard me right. A weeble. All thin at the beginning, getting much much fuller at the end.

Will anyone bother to stay with the story to the end when all the exciting things happen in the last five hundred words?

Sigh.

A Novel Approach...

So, momentous moment, I have passed the 95k words mark in 'De Novel'. Its taken blood, sweat and tears - and with, I reckon, another 10/20 thou to write, there could be an ocean of bodily fluids to navigate yet.

But I fear I may have hit a problem. I reckon my novel is a bit of a weeble. Yes, you heard me right. A weeble. All thin at the beginning, getting much much fuller at the end.

Will anyone bother to stay with the story to the end when all the exciting things happen in the last five hundred words?

Sigh.

About the Author

This blog is rapidly turning into one of those vastly irritating Momblogs. 'Oh my little darling did a poop, isn't he wonderful!' Is there anything more boring than other peoples children? As Billy Connolly said, 'Children are like farts - I can barely stand my own.'.

But.

My spawn, of course, are different.

Witty, talented, handsome. They're the whole package.

(ahem.)

Okay, maybe they have some challenges...

But I was delighted to see some potential writing flair -This came home with 8 year old Domestic Oubliette Jnr today...




Okay, it made me laugh.

About the Author

This blog is rapidly turning into one of those vastly irritating Momblogs. 'Oh my little darling did a poop, isn't he wonderful!' Is there anything more boring than other peoples children? As Billy Connolly said, 'Children are like farts - I can barely stand my own.'.

But.

My spawn, of course, are different.

Witty, talented, handsome. They're the whole package.

(ahem.)

Okay, maybe they have some challenges...

But I was delighted to see some potential writing flair -This came home with 8 year old Domestic Oubliette Jnr today...




Okay, it made me laugh.