Sunday, 6 November 2011

The plans are a foot for the next calendar.

The plans are a foot for the next calendar. Photo shoots have been booked, costumes bought, jeans wiggled into and toe nails painted. Merlin ran us through the range of shots she wanted and we set off to the beach for a practise run. Oh the jumps, we practised the pensive looks into the distance and the happy family groups, the individual serious pose and the happy glance, pretending to be surprised and then interested, head back, head left, head right. Then the jumps, oh those jumps, must be high and full of action, I am telling you, those jumps will do some serious injury to my person if we persist. Lastly we practised star jumps, I know, the jumps again, well all I can say about the star jumps are that they were bright, sort of starry. I hope the rest of you are having as much fun as we are, oh those jumps.

Guy Fawkes night and the Matriarch would be raging against the noise, the frightened animals and the senseless waste of money. Rage on, rage on, do not go gentle into this whirls of sound, twirl of light and flash of stars.
Her popular expression was,
' Oh I hate fire works with a passion.' I would go so far as saying she hated fireworks as much as she loved pasta, maybe I should have made her a pasta on fireworks night.

I will leave you with this one thought, words are good, bad and indifferent. The trap me and elude me, confuse and perplex me but they are just words. I sometimes find it difficult to put words to paper and make some sense of it all. Sometimes if words were like autumn leaves on a tree, I can make such a bonfire. 

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