This Country Is Not Child Friendly.

Britain is not a child-friendly country in general and never has been. And look where we are now!

In the past we saw children as cheap labour, sent them up chimneys, down mines, into factories, etc. And in the better off homes they were raised by nannies, seen and not heard, and possibly not even seen. That spread out into general society until children were regarded as more of a nuisance than a blessing. Sent to bed early, dumped in front of television sets or games consoles to avoid having to deal with them in a proper affectionate manner.

Traveling abroad one sees a huge difference in some countries where children are welcomed: in restaurants, cafes, pretty much everywhere. Family is important in these countries. Yes, some can go overboard with brothers being over protective of sisters, fathers too protective of daughters, but is that worse than our attitude where in many families no one seems to care at all.

Women having to work away from home started during the two world wars but is now pretty much expected and demanded by successive governments, and a necessity for many families who have to have both parents working just to survive. And then there is the issue of single parent families, trying to cope.  This has added to the neglect of children in some families; it has been passed down through successive generations and is just getting worse.

And now? We have a very high teenage pregnancy rate, we have teenage binge drinking, we have school absenteeism, teenage crime and prison population. And these will be the parents of the next generation of children. How will they be raised?

Are these things unconnected? I don’t think so. This country needs to take a good hard look at how we raise our children if we want things to improve.

Of course, this is a generalisation, not all families are so dysfunctional but many are and we need to look at and tackle the root causes. Punishment is not the answer to it all, more laws concerning youth crime are not the answer, but more love, more respect, more caring are. From an early age.

Educating today's young on the right ways to raise their children is a start, but facilities have to be put in place to then allow parents to be parents, rather than just breadwinners, with time to spend with their children.  Public places need to be encouraged to allow parents to take their children with them instead of having to leave them at home.

Attitudes regarding how we see children in general need to change. 

The new laws regarding parental leave for both parents is a step in the right direction but won't deal with the problem as it now stands. Maybe we should be writing to those in power, who possibly don't see the problem as most of us do, to ask them to act, before another generation of largely neglected children is born.

Merry Christmas to you all.

I wish you all a Christmas jolly,
snow and mistletoe and holly,
good friends there to make it cheery,
lots of rest: don't get too weary.

May your gifts be well received,
your excuses be believed,
pray have enough to eat and drink,
try not to end up in the clink.

I hope that Santa isn't grumpy
and your gravy isn't lumpy
on the turkey plump and tender;
better put it through the blender.

In short, I want to say in rhyme
have a really lovely time
but most of all a Wish that's True:
Love and Joy and Peace to you.

 © CS


 Bah, Humbug!


Christmas comes but once a year
and when it comes it brings good cheer
cheer to all the girls and boys
with their stockings full of toys.

Stockings? Nowadays its sacks!
Christmas Greetings sent by fax
fathers boast of what they've bought
mothers just get very fraught
go on endless shopping trips
fret about expanding hips
shopping trolleys overflowing
where is all the money going?
Have we got enough to drink?
God! the TVs on the blink!
So much food it's going rotten
presents bought so soon forgotten
decorations thrown away
that's it - end of holiday.

When you really work it out
what is Christmas all about?
Buy and sell and wads of cash
generating tons of trash.


10/2001


Another blast from the past...12/24/2002 4:58 PM
(When I was still able to walk more than a few yards. )

Christmas Eve. Late afternoon. Sheffield.

Today I decided to go and do some shopping. It was either that or go without Christmas Dinner altogether.  I did have a cold sausage left over, but, well, you know.  It's bad enough being alone at Christmas without sitting down to a left over sausage decorated with a sprig of holly.

If I had any holly of course.

Fortunately the shops are open Christmas eve, so no problem there. Unfortunately my legs were on a go slow while debating the advisability of going on an all out strike.

Fortunately I have a wheeled shopping trolley so I walked (walked? Make that staggered) it round to where I garage my car. Unfortunately, the car had decided that this was a good day to die.  So it did.

Fortunately, the shop I wanted is a downhill walk, though of some distance. Unfortunately this means that it's an uphill walk back with a full shopping trolley.

Fortunately it was a nice dry day for a walk, and I managed to get everything I'd written on my list. Unfortunately I'd forgotten to write "Stuffing" on my list.

Fortunately the fish and chip shop was on the way home, and open, so I treated myself to battered cod and chips to eat out of the wrappings on the way home.  Not easy while using both hands to push a loaded trolley uphill, but worth it I thought.

Unfortunately it started to rain at that point, so I stuffed the yummy hot food into the trolley to eat it later. With luck it would still be warm by the time I got it home. 

Fortunately it wasn't too cold, and I enjoyed it. Unfortunately so did my cat.

Fortunately I had some time to spare so I thought it would be nice then to go online and see what delights Christmas would bring to a lonely old woman.  Unfortunately what I received was a rude email from someone I'd thought was a friend. Huh.

Things were getting better by the minute.  I poured myself a drink to calm down or cheer up, or something like that. Fortunately I had bought some in advance of Christmas. Good job too.

Unfortunately alcohol makes me ill, so I just know that I'm going to pay for this.

What more can happen? No, don't tell me. I really don't want to know.

Merry Christmas everybody.

To be or not to be. Gay, that is.

It's astounding how many people still believe that being homosexual, as opposed to heterosexual, is a "lifestyle choice".  Who in their right minds would actively choose to be mocked, shunned, abused, put in jail in some places, or even killed. And often lose their place in the family. What sense does that make? It's illogical.

And those of you who think that way - would you be able to choose it? And if not, why do you suppose others do? 

We get told that on the one hand gay sex is animalistic, inhuman, and at the same time it is only done by humans. Please, people, make up your minds. Neither is true anyway.

If you are considering that sex was invented purely for procreation, then ask yourself this: how often have you had sex without it being for purposes of procreation? Of course not every act results in a pregnancy, but still, you get the point. Very few people would be happy to have sex maybe three times in a lifetime.

But it's much more than that of course. Sex is also pleasurable. It has to be, or why else would people do it? Even to procreate. Yes, there are some ultra religious groups where that is the norm, where any kind of pleasure is shunned. But it's pretty extreme, you have to agree.

Some say that homosexual behaviour is unnatural. Let's look at that. Take the bonobos. They indulge in sex at all times, in all ways, with all genders, with no embarrassment. It is used for greeting, making up after a conflict, soothing, and just for fun, as well as in the usual way for procreation. Is that unnatural? Maybe someone should tell the bonobos.

And then there's the argument of it being a human perversion. "You don't see animals behave that way!" No? Actually, you do. Ask any sheep farmer,  they know that there are rams who have no interest whatsoever in ewes. Their attention is focused on other rams. They are no use for breeding. Although if they are a good specimen artificial insemination could be used, and perhaps farmers have found other ways round the problem. It is also interesting that the parents of these rams were perfectly normal breeders, so it isn't something inherited.

Attempting to find out what's going on there, biopsies were done on ram's brains, comparing the two kinds of rams.  It was found that a certain area of the brain, which controls sexual attraction, was much smaller in the "gay" rams. This was something they were born with, believed to be as a result of an imbalance of hormones while they were developing in utero.

It is seen in other species too. Males who only want to be with other males.  Possibly harder to spot in females as they tend to stick together more anyway. It happens in birds, and mammals, and the more researchers watch wildlife, the more they see of it.

Now if happens naturally in other species, why not in humans too?  No amount of counselling, or medical treatment, or whatever ill founded attempts to "cure" homosexuality can make any difference to a brain already formed. And why should it?

What is the real problem here? Fear? Is there some sort of irrational idea that maybe it's contagious? Or that we might be preyed upon? Raped? I think it's true to say that rape is a particularly heterosexual act on the whole. And as for paedophilia, another ridiculous accusation leveled at homosexuals, gays have no interest whatsoever in such dreadful behaviour. They are two entirely different things.

And why does it all have to be about sex anyway? Gays are no more obsessed with sex than anyone else. It is simply who they are. The way their brains work. Natural for them. It's not sick, or perverted, nor is it a choice. It's no more a lifestyle choice for them than being straight is for everyone else.

Why should anyone be so concerned? It isn't contagious, or inherited, or dangerous to others. A lot of the objections of course are on religious grounds. The bible says.... Yes it does. It also says a lot of other things which the same people generally ignore completely. Cherry picking is no way to use your holy book. And if people simply say that they can't see the attraction, so what? No one is asking them to. If the thought disgusts you, get over it. It's none of your business!

So lets live and let live. The world is becoming overpopulated anyway, the critics should be thankful that some people won't be adding to the problem! Ok, that was tongue in cheek. Don't get mad. And let's not get obsessed with the lives of people who do no harm. Life is hard enough.

Memories are made of this?

     What price memories? Just how accurate are they? Can we trust our own? The short answer is "no".  We can't.

     Simple experiments show that our memories are very faulty. Maybe you've seen the film of people concentrating on counting balls that they completely miss the man in a gorilla costume walking among them. You may have done the test yourself, online.

     So, for one thing, our brains don't take in everything around us, only those things on which we focus. And they are constantly making new neural pathways, creating our neural net, reworking old memories to take new information into account.

     I actually have very few memories of childhood, one year in particular is an almost total blank. I was told that this is due to trauma of some sort, the brain's way of protecting us from pain. I'm sure it's true, there was a lot going on in my childhood, not all of it good.

     The year I can't bring to mind was when a cousin came to live with us, with her mother, when I was around 10/11. It was my first year in High School. I had no idea this had happened until my cousin mentioned it at my mother's funeral.  It came as a total shock to me. How could that be? That a whole year was wiped out? And I have no memory of people I sat next to in school that year either. They remember me, but it's just a blank to me.

However, there is one memory I was sure of, absolutely, with no doubt whatsoever for many years, only to realise quite recently that it is quite false.

     For most of my adult life I had a clear memory of a pin up I had in my teens.  It was a pull out from a magazine, a swimmer, Mark Spitz, a famous photo of him with his seven Olympic medals arranged on his chest.  You can see it easily using Google.

    Now as I remembered it this pin up was next to my bed, stuck to the side of a cupboard in my bedroom at my family home. I slept alone in the attic of our house at that time, in my early teens. Nothing wrong with that, you may say. And there wouldn't be, except that it wasn't like that at all.

     You see, in recent years I realised that he won those seven medals in 1972, by which time I had been married for 11 years.  I slept with my husband in our marital home and there was no way I would have had a pin up of anyone! Anywhere! My husband was a jealous man.

     My memory was almost entirely false, only the actual picture was real, yet it was as clear as anything for many many years!

     Now if we can create false memories, so clear and convincing, for whatever reason, if our memories are so unreliable, just how far can we trust witness statements in court, however sure they seem of their facts? It makes you think, doesn't it?

     It has certainly made me think.

    

Feline Friends

Cats


Devious, sinuous, warily walking
creatures of night and alone in their quests
leaping so lightly and silently stalking
mice in their hideouts and birds in their nests;
tail-tips a-twitching in anticipation
eyes all aglow in the moon's eerie light
whiskers a-quiver and ears at attention
waiting to pounce and to seize and to bite.

Soft and adorable, languidly lazing
velvety pawed and appealing of face
pictures of innocence, quietly purring
stretching and yawning with infinite grace;
silkily smooth, or a bundle of fluffiness,
ebony, chocolate, tabby or white;
touching our faces  with exquisite tenderness,
mummy's sweet darling, and daddy's delight.

And always they wear such an air of sweet mystery -
what's going on in the minds of our cats?
Do they remember their family history -
Goddess of Egypt, Destroyer of Rats,
Witches familiar or friend of czarina,
quaintly adorning a family crest?
Is that why they walk with such haughty demeanour -
they know, of all creatures, they're clearly the best?


08/2001


A Tale of Unrequited Love.

He's black as coal; black as night;
she's most definitely white.
He hangs around outside her house
shy and timid as a mouse
hoping that one day she may
cast a loving glance his way.
Like some lost soul he follows her
Nothing, nothing can deter
this his never ending quest:
not wind, not rain, nor need of rest.
But does she care? No, she does not
she really doesn't give a jot.
She glares at him and walks on by
unconcerned, her head held high.
Oliver, for that's his name,
keeps on trying just the same
Though she goes on shunning him
his love-light never seems to dim.
Does his passion sound too sordid?
Will his patience be rewarded?
Why oh why can he not see
that she only cares for me.
Oliver is doomed to pine -
Her faithful, feline heart is mine.

July 01


Unrequited Love II
The Sequel 

Oliver has competition
Willow has another beau
now there’s two of them to deal with
- that will keep her on her toes.

This one is a recent caller
I don’t even know his name
but he looks a lot like Felix
so that’s what I’m calling him.

Both of them now sit there waiting
caterwauling day or night
meanwhile Willow just avoids them
tries to scurry out of sight.

Going out is getting crazy
trying to avoid these guys
Willow walks sedately by me
desperation in her eyes.

How can she perform her duties
with two fellas on her case?
Maybe she should be provided
with her own small can of mace!

Famous people have their stalkers
now it seems we have them, too
what next - feline paparazzi?
Really, what’s a cat to do?


© 2002


Winter Nights

Every year about this time
a change occurs within my bed:
my cat decides the nights are cold
and joins me underneath the covers
snuggles round my legs and ankles
- warmer mights she's round my head.
Even when she's twitching, dreaming
I don't mind her being there
for I love the sweet sensation
of my skin against her fur.
So I try to keep quite still
for every movement makes her murmur
yawn and stretch and change position
moving round my legs so gently
but it's not an imposition
for her nice warm furry body
sensuously soft and silky
feels deliciously delightful
on my legs and on my feet.
I need no hot water bottle
Willow's presence is a treat.


Jan 2002



Willow

I'm having a problem with Willow.
She's a very endearing cat,
but I cant keep her out of the bedroom.
It's an awkward one, is that.

It's bad enough when I go to bed
that I have to fight for space
but now she's fallen in love with my man
and lies on him, face to face.

Three in a bed can be fun I'm told
but not when one of the three
is a feline in love with your lover.
Why can't she leave him to me?

©  June 2003


Laptop Cat

I have a cat; I call her Willow.
Willow thinks of me as Pillow
til she fancies something canned,
then I'm Slave, at her command.

At night she sleeps upon my bed
where I support her paws and head.
By day she commandeers my lap:
a comfy place to take a nap.

It's hard to say just who's in charge.
Although we're partners, by and large,
I know my place; I'm just the mat
beneath my lazy laptop cat.


© 2006


Morning

Drowsily drifting,
slowly gaining consciousness;
gentle pressure on my chest,
swansdown-soft upon my face.

Gathering strength and fortitude
I prise unwilling lids apart,
persuade reluctant eyes to focus.

Blearily I peer at
the face which hovers over me, 
nose to nose, breath on breath,

where eyes of bright pistachio
gaze earnestly, compellingly,
with mystic mesmerising force.

Willow wants her breakfast.


©2006


In My Face

Do you have to be quite so in my face
encroaching upon my personal space?
There's close, my sweet, and closer yet
but this is as close as you can get!
I know it's concern when you smell my breath
to see if I'm on the brink of death,
that you're there to feel the beat of my heart,
to be sure I'm not about to depart.
I appreciate that and I'm not fickle
but, heavens, how your whiskers tickle!


06/2010


The Passing Years

Willow is getting old,
something that comes to all of us.
Sixteen now, yet with all her lives,
slowed down a bit by aching joints
a bit less sprightly - but so am I -
and massage help her spine.

Thyroid trouble means so many pills
which she takes without a fight
and she hardly ever goes out at night
preferring the warmth of me or my bed.

No lovers there now for her to hijack,
those days are long gone now,
it's just her and me for company;
it's enough at our time of life. 

At times I'd swear she's becoming confused,
dementia setting in perhaps,
waking me at unearthly hours with
little idea of what she wants,
standing meowing, meowing, meowing...

She dreams more in her sleep now,
twitching, making all manner of sounds,
waking blearily, making me smile.
More loving, closer, more talkative,
but more demanding too.

A mixed blessing, yes, at times
as I get less able myself
but when she goes, as go she must,
she'll leave a very empty place,
a silence, a coldness,
that nothing else can fill.

2013.

Terse Verse

Terse Verse

This is my name for rhymes which are, like the Japanese haiku, rely on few words which say a lot.

Time

Tick tock
watch clock
age paradigm
tyranny of time


There are a few named varieties of verse  - often comic in nature - which, although being very short,  have set rhythm and rhyming patterns.

The most well known of these is the Limerick. Eg:

There is a young farmer called Brown
who never goes into the town;
such a bumpkin is he,
he makes love to a tree
though the splinters are getting him down.


© 2003

There is also the Little Willie, named after the subject of the first one to become famous. This should be what is sometimes called black or wry humor, or tragi-comedy. Just four lines. Eg:

One fateful day my cousin Mary
lawnmowered her pet canary.
Mary's cat though had a treat;
he loves a bowl of shredded tweet!


©2002

And then there's the Clerihew, named after the author who made them famous. Four short lines, in two rhyming couplets, the name of a famous person as the first line, the other lines being about the person. Eg:

Elvis Presley
did impress me
always rocking
seen as shocking


© 2002

Another is sometimes known as 4x4. It's four lines, one word on each line, as rhyming couplets. Like these:

staid                         whale's   
maid                         tales
misses                      porpoise
kisses                       corpus
 

The epigram is another terse verse. Just two lines this time, the object being to make it witty, pithy:



I wondered where the golf ball went
and then it hit me.

Another fairly terse verse, and probably the hardest of the lot,  is known as double dactyl, which just means that most of the lines are composed of two dactyls. A dactyl is one long syllable followed by two short ones, as in the word "murmering".

The only rhyme is in the last word of the last line of each of the two stanzas, which rhyme with each other. The other stipulation is that the first line must be a nonsense phrase, and the sixth line should be one double dactylic word.

Eg:

Milly geewillikins!
Scientists utilise
artistic properties,
having a go.

Looking like soccer balls,
Buckminsterfullerine's
spherical molecules.
Whaddya know.


© 2003


All of these are much harder to write properly than they may appear, as the rhythm and the rhyme schemes are all important.  Brevity, too, is not always easy to achieve.

CLS
2003

Thoughts Spoken and Unspoken

Thoughts Unspoken


Wow! take a look at that!
Ooh, he's rather nice,
not too thin and not too fat.
She wouldn't look at me twice.

I wonder if I asked her out...
I wonder what he's thinking.
I'd like to know what he's smiling about.
I wonder what she's drinking?

Perhaps if I walk across that way
Oh gosh! he's coming over!
Must stay calm! What will I say?
My brain's gone supernova.

What can I say that might impress?
I've got to play it cool.
I wish I'd worn that other dress.
I'd hate to look a fool.

Maybe if I say hello...
I mustn't look too keen
Gosh, I'm nervous, does it show?
will she know what I mean?

She's looking up. Oh God! those eyes!
Yes!. He's sitting down.
Should I smile or look surprised?
Big and warm and brown.

I can't just sit here staring
What's he looking at?
Is it what I'm wearing?
I don't half feel a prat.

I'll have to think of something fast
Do you know, I think...
Yes! he's going to speak at last!
"Would you like a drink?"


********
First Date



First date,
can't be late,
what will he-?
will he be -?

What to wear?
Do my hair
-new dress-
hair's a mess.

What's that?
wear a hat?
Don't tease,
daddy, please!

Back by when?
only ten?
can't I just...?
don't you trust...?

He's here now?
Oh wow!
"Woohoo
look at you"

Later on,
date's gone,
"How'd it go?"
"Oh, you know."






***

Prevarication

Ah, no, she said, not this time...
You can't, she said, not now...
Stay here, she said, I'll call you
It's too late anyhow.

It's just, she said, you're busy...
I thought, she said, you'd need...
Some time, she said, to study
I want you to succeed.

Oh, right, I said, you're saying...
I see, I said, OK...
Is this, I said, for long then?
And then I thought, no way.

You've got, I said, another?
I've been, I said, replaced?
Would you, I said, have told me?
As she stood ashen-faced.

Ah, well, she said, about that...
I'll make, she said, amends...
I would, she said, have told you
And we can still be friends.

Oh no, I said, not this time.
We can't, I said, nohow.
Go home, I said, don't call me.
It's really too late now.

©2001



He-ing She-ing


Eyeing  sighing
kissing missing

yearning burning
dating waiting

dreaming scheming
wedding bedding

baring pairing
mating sating

lusting trusting
craving saving

boring  warring
paying greying

fighting slighting
ailing failing

working shirking
staying praying

lying crying
cheating beating

crawling sprawling
bleeding pleading

sweeping weeping
aching breaking

leaving grieving

ending

mending.

© 2002



One Way Conversation

"You're doing ok for your age," he said.
As a compliment it stank.
"But you look much better on your back."
There's nothing like being frank!

She raised an eyebrow, gave him a look.
"No, let me finish here..."
She pursed her lips and waited.
"The wrinkles disappear.

Not that you have many anyway."
He backpedalled like a pro.
She looked him squarely in the eye;
laughed as he dodged the blow.


© 2006