Penny's Jottings

sitting in my kitchen sipping tea, picking up the strands of my life

reflecting on the past six weeks, hectic, busy, catching up

family fun and laughter, whisky and coke (dad turning in his grave)

joys and sorrows of time passing, time wasting, time standing still

listening to each other, envy, love, joy and pain intertwining

lives changing passively and actively, lives altering painfully

the joy of being home, the sorrow of leaving,

I see life as a pattern made from multi coloured string

a non linear, loose, ever changing pattern

where love, hate, excitement, boredom and sorrow mingle

where safety and danger challenge each other

where duty, sensitivity and love are decimated by ego

where questions overflow and answers disappear.

sitting in my kitchen, reflecting on the pattern of my life

tis the night before travelling the house is a mess

there are unpacked clothes and a feeling of stress

As I work faster the mess is not less

what will I take? did I clean the loo?

there are a million things left for me to do

I’ve got to complete my work projects too 

download my stories, decide what to wear

pack my passport, style my hair

hoping my phone battery will last till I’m there

I’ll just pat the dog and plan out the day

prioritise my work and get each job underway

I wish I was organised but that’s not my way

the pools a bit green and the yard needs a weed

the carpet needs cleaning and I need a feed

the car needs a clear out, the dog needs a lead

Ah well what’s forgotten will be here when I’m back

It will all be completed before I hit the sack

Up with the lark then to clean up and pack

Hooray ! Im gonna be off tomorrow! 

I had a dream about Rob and Stace, hand in hand

Spending 25 years in ‘happily ever after’ land

where the air is sweet and there are no stresses

and Rob is in tights and the Stacey wears dresses

where people don’t argue, and children behave

and the women are dainty and the men oh so brave

and marriages last to each final last breath

when they swear to each other a love after death.

but no! I was dreaming, they are not in that place.

they are here, where stresses are quite common-place

where challenges erupt and values clash

where decisions are made for the after-school dash

where work is imposing and communication lacks

where misunderstanding makes us stop in our tracks

where children are challenging everyday rules

and where families clash with the values of schools

where life is expensive, and bills are arriving

and the grass needs mowing and weeds are thriving

where dreams are shattered, and children are sick

and life hurries on, years pass by so quick.

But Stacey and Rob have stood strong through it all

With love and affection and an occasional brawl

Shoulder to shoulder and backs to the wall

Meeting each challenge in their own unique way

supporting each other through work, rest, and play

and that’s what it’s about at the end of the day

25 years but who’s keeping score?

Here’s hoping they enjoy 25 more!

Christmas comes but once a year

and I have had my share, I fear

seventy seven to be precise

with memories of sugar mice

making yards of paper chains

hoping for snow not drizzly rain

eating nuts and iced Christmas cake

Hoping that Santa was kind and not fake

(scared cause I knew I had not been good)

hoping for money in my serve of plum pud

sherry and cream and hot mince pies

eating was constant but not too wise

Christmas in Oz with the hot sun burning

bikini clad cook cold recipes learning

and all through the years, the trials and tears

the turbulent world with escalating fears

The fires and the pestilence, the damaging floods

the countries war torn and covered in blood

here am I in my seventy seventh year

glad I am healthy and that I’m still here

Lucky and hopeful and full of good cheer

counting my blessings, those I hold dear

Today is a new day, yesterday is done, tomorrow unknown

Today I heard that my brother-in-law is sentenced to 24 years in jail

I am elated, sad, overwhelmed, weeping and dancing

His sentence is 24 years, theirs a lifetime

I have watched powerful young people reveal their vulnerabilities

personal stones publicly turned over to show the grubbiness beneath

Their worlds a whirpool of sadness, regret, anger, paranoia and suspicion

and he is in Jail for 24 years

I have witnessed survivors proudly lifting their heads and saying ‘me too’

I have witnessed the positive power of support and love

I have witnessed the far reaching effect of the pain of abuse

My kin, my sorrow, my anger, my mistakes, but its not about me

The journey continues

Constantine is buzzing, the news has got around

There’s excitement in the air and a tremor in the ground

There’s a shake of non-believing, the community’s come alive

Who can comprehend it, Mollie is one hundred and five

There’s an order in for champagne, sausages on sticks

Sally’s making cakes, and we’re getting yummy dips

There’s some music from the twenties and banners up as well

The invites gone to everyone; they’re all coming I hear tell

The people are amazed as they look around with awe.

‘She don’t look 105’ they say, ‘she’ll live 100 more’

‘aint she wonderful’ we hear and ‘she’s a mentor’ too

‘She’s amazing’ said admiringly, and that is all so true

She has lived through wars and turbulence and dogs and cats galore

She’s had so many children we are glad there are no more

She’s an artist and a gardener and a loving Mum and friend

She lives life with a passion that we hope will never end

She has a message from the Queen and now one from the King

We will all sing Happy birthday and let the rafters ring

I’m told this life’s soon over; you may as well be loud and bold

Enjoy what life you have and get wonderfully, marvellously, disgracefully, magnificently old!

Just like Mollie!

When travelling its clear to see that its easier when it’s just me

I catch a train, a bus a plane and then I make it home again – simple

Travelling with chorus is not the same, we have to play the waiting game

The time consuming waiting game, the constant, patient, waiting game

The ‘where are you?’ texts and the ‘what are we doing nexts?’

The hailing, calling and waving, the table and multi chair saving

The constant losses of jackets and phones, the worry if one person’s left all alone

The hours spent working out where we’ll all meet, the crocodile sauntering off down the street

The loo breaks and food breaks and nap breaks and drink breaks

The gasp, crying laughter, the rib aching laughter, The loud raucous laughter

And when we are together we sing,

We sing in our rooms, in the halls, in the street, we sing with like minded people we meet

We sing in the pub, in the park, in the night, we sing as a chorus to other’s delight

We have lifted our voices and sung in a plane, Oh how I would like to do that again!

Travel with chorus? Bring it on!

Theres a baby in the house and we’re living in a mess

smiling, screaming, pooping, he’s very hard to dress

The dog is so dejected, feeling quite neglected

underneath the high chair collecting food that’s been ejected

Theres a baby in the house and toys in every space

cars, books and lego scattered around the place

eating porridge with his hands, careless where it lands

expecting instant gratification for whatever he demands

Theres a baby in the house with a smile to melt your heart

and a scream to peirce the eardrums if he thinks you are apart

crawling around at breakneck speed, scattering books he cannot read

gazing hungrily at my food with soulful, overt greed

Theres a baby in the house and I can’t put up my feet

read a book, watch a show, unless he is asleep

but then when he is sleeping, round the house I’m creeping

trying to get the place in order before I hear him squeaking

Theres a baby in the house and it really is quite fun

He is full of life and vigour until the day is done

with a giggle and a smile, and a wiggle of his bum

he has his ancient granny wrapped around his thumb