BUBBLES

This year is going to be a roller coaster. I can feel it already as though I'm at the beginning of a ride that I know will go on for quite some time.    I feel instinctively I should rest but am restless when I do. Antici....pation is such a funny thing, isnt it?   I spent Christmas in two different worlds - bubbles if you like.   A lot of those I know live in bubbles all of their own making. Romanticising situations which if they ever stepped out if it and popped their own illusion, they would find intolerable, untenable.    But if the bubbles are short lived, and you see and appreciate them for what they are, temporary highs, they're fine.   For Christmas I was in Portugal which was lovely and warm at a lovely hotel staffed by what I would call contented people.  The staff stay there for on average more than 18 years which is longer than most marriages these days.     Although I missed my son, I knew he was happy and that's what's important.   I was by the sea and walked along the beach on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day as I did as a child when I had all the family around me.   Inspirational places beaches out of season.

With my lover I smile and walk

in echoes of shallow shadow footprints

in search Of fragile shells

I stoop to collect feathers thrown by angels

And stand to find myself alone on the beach

Staring at the sea reflecting my whispered emotion

Breathing them in and breathing them out

Not absorbing as trees do,

but sharing like a knowing teacher

much stronger than myself.

Grey sparkling light of dusk hides my tears

and the waves crash loud awakening me

To the answer to why I love to stand and watch the sea

When sad and lonely

It draws me up and it makes me stand to attention

Even when in day s gone by half blind in drunken despair

I found my way to the beach and stood as I do now.

And I let the waves flow through and around me

All questions to my answers and

All answers to my questions are in nature

And I always find my peace

on the beach

At dusk

alone

There were bubbles at New Year as well.    New Year was a fancy dress party in a village hall and a barn theme on 'around the world'. All those who attended had travelled far and wide to exotic places and ended up in Hertfordshire.   I had the choice of dressing as a slutty French maid or a slutty Indian squaw.   I chose the maid as I couldn't find my axe and head gear, but could the feather duster.   They party like it's 1999 in Hertfordshire.   Or 1979.   I handed round jelly sweets and pringles. They're very fun loving people but I've yet to think of a poem.