It was already hot, only dawn and I’m melting

The sun in the heavens is already pelting

I want to crawl into the fridge to keep cool

I am staying indoors, I am nobody’s fool.

*

But in that I am wrong, for I do have a duty…

My son is my boss though, in that there is beauty.

He will understand that I’m achy and hot

He is bound to be gentle with Mum, is he not?

*

He’s all bright and smiley, he likes the hot weather,

I’m wilting and limp, but I keep it together…

“Let’s garden today,” said my son and employer.

Is that in my contract…perhaps get a lawyer?

*

He feeds me with honey for energy levels

Then says something nice, he’s a sneaky young devil

He plies me with compliments, even says ‘please’…

Then I’m out with the rose bushes, spiders and bees.

Thank you Sue for this wonderful opportunity to talk about Mum’s recently published book ‘My Vibrating Vertebrae: and other poems’.

Before I do though, I’d also like to thank two other special people:

My little sister, Lorna, for finding, compiling and typing all Mum’s poems she could find before sending them to me for further action. I know this was a true labour of love for her.

My lovely author friend and editor, Jo Robinson, for doing such a great job of arranging, editing and formatting Mum’s poems while maintaining Mum’s ‘Voice’ – Not the easiest of things to do, especially when not familiar with some of the Ulster / Scots terminology used by everyone in Mum’s home town, even I struggle with it sometimes and I lived there for 27 years before leaving for other lands and climes.

See details of what Author Support Services Jo offers in…

I know it’s the middle of summer, but this is a mix of two prompts from my friends Meg (“Plonker!”) and Judy (“knickers!”)… the story itself is true enough!

Family Christmas dinners were awful… So dull. So polite. All please and thank yous, with the same routines every year.

In the kitchen, the turkey wasn’t quite cooked, and Millie was getting tense, despite (because of) Peter’s attempts to help. “No! You… Plonker!”

In the living room, Ella raised an eyebrow. This was most unusual!

Something could be heard falling, clattering from the hob.

“Oh… Knickers!”

Two eyebrows.

As dinner was served, Millie spilled red wine on the carpet.

“Oh… SHIT! “

Ella’s face didn’t move a muscle, but inside she rofld, she danced, she cheered.

Best. Christmas. Ever.