Monthly Archives: November 2020

windowsill / work-life balance?

Nick’s post Roud’s ‘English Year’ prompted me to look at my own window sill, which made me realise just how much work has invaded my personal space this year. Here is my list, not as interesting as Nick’s, but it pretty much sums up my year.    Continue reading

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Filed under musings

broad beans

Tucked up so tight
in softest down,
a darling sight!
So green and round!
Too sweet they look
for me to cook.
I’ll eat them raw.

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Filed under gardening, poem

Sunday morning summer ha’sonnets I

The cicada
song fills the air, Continue reading

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Cherry Season

Friday afternoon and the highway beckons,
but despite my impatience to be on my way
I am lured off the road –
by a cardboard sign on a dusty ute,
its block lettering as irresistible as any siren song –
CHERRIES Continue reading

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Friday afternoon – outta here…

Pat the pockets, the hip
– those occupational OCD twitches –
keys, phone, wallet, ID
– all present and correct. Continue reading

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Mystery Blogger Award

Much to my surprise, I was nominated for the mystery blogger award by Tebogo at The Amateur’s Quill. Thank you! Continue reading

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Filed under musings

Sutton Bakery, Saturday morning

This is a sequel to Sutton Bakery, Friday afternoon:

magpie-2 Continue reading

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Sutton Bakery, Friday afternoon

Chattering and shoving, they mob the counter,
from hip-high to shoulder-high,
clutching their pocket money and battling with indecision. Continue reading

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The love song of the empty red marking pen

I didn’t think I’d be writing anything this week, because I have all the end of semester marking to do and very limited time. But I couldn’t resist having a quick look to see what Eugi’s prompt was when I knocked off for the night – and then couldn’t resist when I saw it was “everlasting“. So here is my response; a homage to Eliot and a cry for help… well, marking support anyway… Continue reading

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Filed under poem, rants

when I am old and you are grown…

Tebogo (Amateur’s Quill) posed some excellent and very thought provoking questions about parenthood, which in spite of having three kids I was unable to answer. One of them was “What will they say to you [when they are grown]”? So, thinking I could get an answer to at least one question, I asked one of my sons, and he replied “I would say, what are you doing at my house?” So this is my reply to my darling boy: Continue reading

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Filed under poem