We live in leafy London,
In SE26,
Just by Crystal Palace Park,
But it feels like it’s the sticks.
Look out our picture window,
And all you see is trees,
There’s no sound of traffic,
You de-stress by quick degrees.
We’ve a garden like a postage stamp,
It really isn’t large
But my beloved wants a goat,
D’you think the council will surcharge?
Well, yes, I like a goat myself,
It could certainly lawn mow,
But there simply isn’t space for it,
And kids do kinda grow.
But my love needs to be happy,
And while our lawn may not be cropped,
We’ll find a farm that is close by,
And then we’ll just adopt!

So yes, I’m a foodie but to capture my heart,
Making a pudding’s a really good start!
Starters and soups, well yes they’re OK,
But to get my pulse racing, make a rich Creme brûlée!
Yes to vanilla, custard and crunch,
I’d eat it it for breakfast, supper and lunch!
I know that too many and I’ll resemble a blimp,
But this on the menu and my body goes limp!
So forget that savoury dish, or that tasteful entree,
And conjure me a diamond, a Creme brûlée!

I have been sorting through my accumulated memorabilia collected over the years, now that I am moving into my new home. I found this poem, which I wrote at the age of 16. I thought you might like to read it!

Observed through the ages
You observe the time.
Flat-faced, you present yourself to the sun.
Your nose throws the rest of your face into shadow.
At sunrise, you are open, ready,
You have awaited the sun to give you life.
At midday, you are brilliant, lucid, clear.
Stone no longer, but living tradition.
At sunset, face full of mystery,
You shroud yourself and die for the evening.

I love you so much
And I don’t care who knows it.
I love you so much
And I just want to show it.
I respond to your touch
‘Cause it’s so loving and tender,
I respond to your touch
It’s to you I surrender.
I love you so much
You’re a whirlwind, a wonder.
I love you so much
To not do so’d be a blunder.
I respond to your touch
‘Cause I’m yours yet I’m free.
I respond to your touch
‘Cause you let me be me.
There is nothing too hard that I wouldn’t do,
So you know absolutely that I love you.

OK then, so sue me, you aren’t going to teach,
Me to like lying for hours on an overpacked beach.
I do not like how the sand sandpapers my toes,
Or how it gets into my swimsuit or clothes.
Don’t enjoy lying for hours on a hot stretch of sand,
Trying to balance my book in one hand.
If I paddle on the seashore in the gentlest of spray,
I hate how sand sticks to my toes after, like half-proving clay.
I won’t swim out far, even if there’s a reef,
In case there are creatures lurking underneath.
Won’t lie for hours under a scorching sun,
My bod gets all sweaty, my mascara has run.
I don’t want to lie here getting frazzled like teak,
I’d rather just beachcomb with an air of mystique.
I’d much rather mess happily in a shallow rock pool,
Where I can lazily lounge, staying reasonably cool.
I’ll stroll down the coast path, take a long walk,
Admire the vista, take a friend and just talk.
I’ll fish for my supper, dig up a mussel or two,
Oh darn it, why bother? I’ll order a hot vindaloo.

I walked down to the beach today,

To smell it, to see it, to feel its spray.

I don’t like long vistas of nothing but sea,

I like a headland, tumbling scenery.

I like a shoreline that wraps around the coast,

With crags and rockpools, the things I like most.

Places where wild waves can crash to the shore,

And I can relish how my spirits just leap and soar.

I learned how to row on the river Wear,
At Durham Uni, which holds the sport dear.
We needed to learn how to balance the boat,
Essential criteria if we wanted to stay afloat!
Our weights and pulls were all different, so this was quite hard,
But achieve it and the boat moved like a stately barge.
When we got it right, it was like slicing through butter,
Elegant motion, no sign of a frog-pull or stutter.
The rhythmic clack of the rolllocks as we each pulled our oar,
The sense of achievement made us come back for more.
Early days on the river, learning our skills,
With short aerobic speed bursts, or endurance drills.
Disciplined, with stamina, we were good, we were strong,
Our pulls were efficient, they were crisp, they were long.
Over time we achieved the grace we required,
We learned all our weaknesses, our strengths were acquired.
The crew all sat tall, and kept their backs straight,
We were now an accomplished senior ladies’ eight!

I can’t get enough of Paris Franz,

He leads your senses a merry dance,

From Nefertiti to Shakespeare, Will,

He beguiles and entices just until

You read about the Angel Falls,

And your journey with him enchants and enthralls.

Read of glitz and glamour, from Monte Carlo to Beirut,

Just be sure you get there – and take the fastest route!

[ http://parisfranz.com/ ]

If you like fine art, particularly flowers,
You might like to study this blog for hours,
This artist’s entirely, completely self-taught,
But look at her paintings and that signifies nought.
She paints with real passion, she paints what she sees,
Her muse is nature itself and she paints it with ease,
So if, as I say, you’re a champion of art,
Peggy Martinez’ blog is a really good start.

[ http://www.peggymartinez.net ]

Home is where my heart resides,
The walls live and breathe real love,
Within, a sense of peace abides,
This house ‘fits’ you like a glove.
Knock, then walk through our front door,
There’s a potent sense of calm,
It draws you in, makes you long for more,
Seduces with its charm.
I have never known a house so ‘right’,
As if the world’s been forged anew,
It is full of laughter, full of light,
Above all else, it’s full of you.