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TIME FOR A BREAK!

This is my 805th post since I first began blogging! I’m taking a short break but shall be back soon.

If you are new to my blog, I especially recommend you to read, “Another Birthday”, “Coronation” and “Royal Protocol”.

You may have your own favourites. I would be very pleased to know which ones they are if you’d like to make a comment below.

Thank you for following my blog and for all your feedback.

I’m always pleased to receive your comments and likes.

See you again soon!

Best wishes, Andrea

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

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POETRY CHALLENGE.

In my writers’ group we were challenged to write a poem on the theme of, “a big day out”.

This is what I wrote:

The outing that wasn’t

I’m going on a day trip

I’m driving very far

I have to get some petrol

And go fill up the car.

I’m on my way to Costco

Where petrol isn’t dear

I think I’m going to run out

Before I get too near.

I only had to think it

And now the car won’t go

I’m walking to the garage

It isn’t far you know.

The kids had planned a big day out

for all the family

A drive into the country

And somewhere nice for tea.

I managed to get the petrol

Someone gave me a ride

I was going to get the car filled up

But thieves have got inside!

They’ve gone and smashed the window

And got into my boot

They’ve stolen all my shopping

And my brand new suit.

The petrol tank was empty

So they didn’t take the car

It’s really quite ironic

They wouldn’t have got far!

And now my phone is ringing

The kids are wondering where I am

I won’t tell them what’s happened

Because I’m always in a jam.

My daughter’s phoned to tell me

That they can’t get away

None of the trains are running

Because there’s a strike today.

I need to get the window fixed

And get help on the phone

It looks as if my big day out

Will now be spent at home.

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

SCOOP. MY LIFE IN POEMS MEETS DONALD TRUMP

This is a re-post of a blog I wrote in 2020 when Covid was rampant and Donald Trump was still in the White House.

My meeting with the President

Because Donald Trump is in quarantine in the White House with Covid-19 I was able to arrange to meet with him on Zoom.

The famous orange hair was now grey and suited him much better. His face was thinner and he looked more normal, if that is a word that could ever be applied to him. 

I noticed that his fingernails were bitten right down to the quick and that there was a food stain on his normally immaculate shirt front.

He sounded a lot less cocky than usual.

“Good to meet you Agatha. Where are you from?

Watford? What State is that in?”

I didn’t correct him on my name or his geography as I wanted to be able to continue our conversation.

“My aide tells me you like poetry,” he continued.  “I do too. Bigly. I know more poems that anyone else. You know this one? The boy stood on the burning deck, eating a threepenny Walls, a little bit fell down his neck and paralysed his ….  My English nanny taught me that one.

Don’t believe all that that stuff you read about me. It’s all fake news.  Like that stuff about Melania not living at the White House.

She wanted to paint the house pink but the aides said it couldn’t happen.  You can’t call it the Pink House, they said. So she had a bit of a huff. And that’s why she went away for all those months. But we’re very close. If we weren’t close how is it that she also got this Chinese flu? Tell me that!”

“What do you think of Boris?” I asked him.

“Boris who? Your guy in the UK? I like him. He’s just like me don’t you think? Same hair and everything. I preferred Theresa May though. Did you see how I got her to hold my hand by pretending I needed support going down those stairs?” He sniggered. “I don’t suppose she’d want to hold my hand now!”

“So what about you Agatha? Tell me about yourself. Do you see my tweets?  I bet you’re thinking how does he get to tweet when he’s so ill? I have a team of course. Or as I call them my tweem.  Just like all those programmes you watch on TV – they all have teams of writers so of course I have a team.

That’s not to say I don’t write the odd tweet when I’m taking a dump in the middle of the night.

Did you watch the debate? I really kicked Biden’s ass. Did you see how he kept interrupting me all the time? I couldn’t get a word in. Stupid man with his stupid mask but not as bad as that nasty Clinton woman.

Hey Agatha I gotta go.  They want to take me to some hospital to make it look like this is a lot more serious than it is. Reckon it’s going to win me a lot of sympathy votes.

 It was good listening to all you had to say. And don’t forget to vote for me on 3 November. Bye now.” 

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

© Photo – Andrea Neidle

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FREEDOM

This evening – Wednesday 5th April – will be the beginning of Passover, when Jewish families all over the world will be sitting down to the Passover Seder. 

Every year, the Passover story is told.   How we, the Jewish people, were once slaves in Egypt and are now free.

Jesus, who of course was Jewish – as were his disciples – was celebrating the Passover meal (Seder) at The Last Supper.

PASSOVER DITTY

When you’re celebrating Easter,

it’s Passover for me,

no bread or cake or biscuits,

just matzos for our tea!

We have to eat unleavened bread

that’s matzo don’t you know,

they’re rather tasty crackers

but for eight days it’s a blow.

We cannot bake with flour

so use substitutes instead,

coconut and ground almonds

because there isn’t any bread.

It’s the festival of freedom

when we fled Egypt long ago

but just as relevant today

with what’s going on you know!

If you would like to know about Passover, here’s an excellent link from the British Library: https://www.bl.uk/learning/cult/inside/goldhaggadahstories/goldenhagg.html

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

© Photo by Andrea Neidle

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WHERE WERE YOU IN MARCH 2020?

I wrote this blog in the early days of Covid. It’s amazing to remember what our lives were like then.

Holidays are upon us.  Where are you going? Will it be Brighton, Bournemouth or Southend this year?

Or maybe somewhere a little less crowded? Barnard Castle perhaps?

Holidaying in the UK is something OH (other half) and I thought we’d be doing when we were too old, too infirm, too tired and too ill to go anywhere else.

We said we’re not getting any younger – let’s seize the day.  Travel the world, explore as much as we can because who knows what’s around the corner? Well, now we know!

I’m not only thinking of the pandemic but also of Brexit which is going to stymie many people’s travel plans. With the increased cost of travel insurance, health cover and flights – Covid or not, travel is sadly not going to be the same in the future.

So here we all are seeking out the best beaches in the UK – of which there are plenty – as long as everyone else hasn’t had the same idea of where to go.  When the weather’s good and the water’s clean then you can’t beat anywhere in the UK for a holiday. Even the food nowadays is better, thank goodness.

A little over a year ago we were in Thailand. OH (other half) had a meeting in Bangkok so we thought we’d travel there a little earlier and chill out on a beach somewhere. We ended up choosing a fabulous resort on the island of Koh Samui, a short plane ride from Bangkok.

When I see someone on TV having what looks like a fantastic meal, I start salivating.  So I won’t get you metaphorically salivating by telling you how wonderful this place was or describing the beautiful pool, the stunning scenery, the glorious beaches and the mouth watering food. I will leave all that to your imagination.

Instead I will tell you about our penultimate day.

There were kayaks on the beach so we thought we’d go out in one.   That was our first mistake. OH (other half) had paddled (if that’s the right word) a kayak a few weeks previously. But that was on a calm lake in the Cotswolds.  The water here was calm. Or so we thought. That was our second mistake.  We had spent most of the holiday swimming in the pool because the sea here – although beautifully warm – turned out to be incredibly shallow.  Or so we thought.  It was evening. No one was around aside from the guy who was manning the kayaks.  He made us put on life jackets which we did reluctantly.

Out we paddled to the line of buoys (our third mistake) – over which one was not meant to cross because there was a coral reef.  As we drew closer to the buoys something odd happened.  Waves started to roll towards us. Waves in the Pacific. Who knew?  OH attempted to steer the kayak so that we did not cross over the buoys. And you can probably guess what happened next.  The boat overturned and we fell out. And instead of the shallow water we had been expecting the sea came right up to our chests. Or, in my case, being only 5 foot one and a half inches tall, up to my neck. But we could stand. So that was good. We upturned the kayak and took off our life jackets as they were pretty cumbersome.

Then OH let out a yell. (He may even have sworn.) The camera! Before the holiday OH had bought a waterproof camera. Unbeknown to me he had brought it with on this trip and had left it on the floor of the boat. It was gone. Somewhere beneath the Pacific ocean was our camera with all our holiday photos. Lost and gone forever.  We were distraught.  We looked around for a while but the water was getting deeper and the night was beginning to fall. So we headed back with the kayak in tow. Not swimming but walking. Not waving but drowning.

Our man on the beach barely spoke English. We tried to explain about the lost camera. He tried to explain that the beach staff would try and find it in the morning when the tide had turned. Yet another mistake on our part. Who knew there were tides in the Pacific? No wonder he had insisted on the life jackets.

That evening I googled – as you do – lost cameras and found this incredible story of a camera that had been lost and found two years later.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-43579098

The next evening was our last night on the island.  The staff hadn’t found our camera so we decided to have one last look.  This time, no kayak. No life jackets. Just face masks. Not the Covid kind. Think big goggles.

We walked out to where we thought the kayak had overturned. Again the water was very deep. We started diving down to look.  We swam and dived all along the side of the line of  buoys. But no joy.  It could have been anywhere. We had not expected to find it. Nevertheless I felt disappointed at the loss of all those wonderful photos we had taken. Sights we would never see again.

OH suggested that we separate. He would look a little further in while I stayed closer to the buoys. And thus we made our way swimming and diving back towards our starting point. All of a sudden there was a loud yell from OH. Not a yell which said I’ve been stung but a yell of joy.  He had found it!  Looking down he had spotted the camera’s lanyard floating on the sea bed.  We could not believe our luck. Who would have thought it?  To say we were overjoyed is an understatement.

And amazingly, it was still working perfectly.

Have a good weekend – wherever you are in the world. Thanks for reading my blog. See you next week! 

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems

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POST #796 – RENDEZVOUS À LA CARTE.

I have spent a lifetime observing people. On holiday, on trains, at work and in restaurants.

Here’s a poem I wrote way back in 1968. I wonder if they’re still meeting?

It’s the national past time –

meeting in restaurants!

A getting on man

with egg on his tie

rumbles in. Makes for

an already destined

corner table.

And the waiter brings

the right wine

right away

without asking.

(You can see he’s been here before!)

And our man waits

and sips and waits

playing with his handkerchief.

She comes. You know it’s she

he’s waiting for

because he smiles a schoolboy smile

and tries to hide his pleasure.

She sits and smiles.

He takes her coat,

her hand.

Who are they these people

that rendezvous à la carte?

They laugh and joke

and drink and laugh.

Order a meal and

hardly touch it.

The big hand whizzes

round the clock.

They clink their glasses

kiss with their eyes

and write table numbers

in their diaries

for another week.

Same time, same place,

same hopelessness.

And exit separately.

© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems