Desert Island Discs

Yes, this is perhaps a predictable blog topic, especially as DID is in its 70^th year.  I love Desert Island Discs, have it as one of my regular podcasts.  Sunday is my day for the horses, so if I’m left with the mucking out, I’ll plug in the headphones and lose myself in someone else’s story for a bit. Very rarely am I bored or disappointed by the guest, but then being asked to be a guest on DID must be terribly flattering and exciting, and Kirsty Young is so splendidly good at her job, gently probing and revealing the human beneath the status and title.  The only thing that disappoints me with the podcasts is the restriction on the length of time the tunes are played.  Usually the ones you like most are tiny snippets not the whole thing.

Wanted

Handsome prince on charger to rescue damsel in distress.  Kissing skills particularly important.  Happy ever after to be discussed.

One of those Waiting Nights

So, for better or ill, I'm having a go at internet dating again.  To be honest I don't really want to do it, but I feel I'm going stale, chasing fantasies, not of the Absent Father, no, maybe that's the problem, I have moved away from that safe, but so unstable harbour.  Now I am really single. So what happens next?

The Guilty Party

Have you ever done anything wrong?  I know, silly question, but today I am considering guilt and culpability.  Of course, the Absent Father wasn’t the guilty one, according to my solicitor.  Oh no, adultery was a ‘failure of our marriage’ not his fault.  Yes, are your hackles rising too, not his fault, has the world gone mad?  

Memories are Made of This

What do dates mean to you?  Do you remember anniversaries?  I do some and not others.  It’s peculiar what is retained as important for commemorating and equally what is allowed to fade into the shoreline as the waves of time pound steadily over the memories.  Sometimes it’s embarrassing when days you should remember just fail to remain steadfast.  My Ex-In laws both have birthdays that slip right past me.  It could be argued that these dates might well be just the things to consign to the past, but it is awkward as my Mother-in-Law always remembers my birthday and a neat little card arrives promptly for the day.  It seems as if I’m not observing some decent manners through all this, but it’s not like that.  Just the hooks my memory hangs its coats on function for a different purpose than for simple good manners.

Still Standing

I haven't written any poetry for a while, and I'm really not sure about the title, but this is really my first attempt at gentle humour.  It isn't about me, not really, more a composite of that 'morning after' feeling when you float upon a sea of ecstasy, fading quietly when you realise the heat of the night has cooled to the 'oh no I didn't' feeling.

Breathing deeply

I've been half watching Titanic through the evening but never settling to the whole film.  I've never seen it before today, and I have only caught a few minutes.  There was the gorgeous bit when Kate Winslet takes her kit off (no surprise there) for Leonardo di Caprio to sketch her, and then much later all the bodies frozen in the water.  The reason I've never watched it is I don't fancy seeing people drowning. Being an asthmatic breathing has always been a challenge.  I'm ok now, as long as I know where my inhaler is, and the thought that people losing their breath as entertainment has always been disdainful to me.  I know only too well that feeling as your lungs constrict and fill, it's the dread that follows me.