Fandango’s Friday Flashback

Here is what I posted on this date last year, for Fandango’s Word Challenge. The word was OVERJOYED. Enjoy:-
Fandango’s Friday Flashback — July 31

Charlie had been OVERJOYED. He had found the key to life and all things. But having found it he had promptly lost it. How on EARTH could that have happened?

It hadn’t been a bad morning, as mornings go. Up early, swallowing a chemist’s shop to keep his various illnesses and conditions under control (they did have a tendency to be rather unruly), getting washed and dressed, then making his way to Mass. He’d always wondered about life and the world, because he had one of those square brains that had to have everything in order and everything in its place. He couldn’t deal with anomalies, and there were plenty of them. Nothing in the Universe ever seemed to fit perfectly. There were strange bits here and there that just did not seem to make sense or relate to anything else. They just kind of stuck out like a sore thumb.

So, you can imagine what Charlie must have felt like when, on parking up in the church car park, his car keys were suddenly on fire in his hands. He was transported, and suddenly saw everything. The universe in all its glory, and the answers to everything. And he hadn’t even got into Mass yet!

In that moment his life was transformed. Everything made sense, and everything was wonderful. However, needs must, and he had to get himself into Mass yet, which was quite a tricky operation in itself, since he had to go in on crutches, one of his many illnesses having behaved REALLY badly, thus taking away his ability to walk properly.

Once in Mass, Charlie went back to being his usual self, except that he had a greater joy than before. Suddenly, the words he was saying made sense. They leapt into life for him. He’d heard about religious experiences, but, much to his annoyance, he’d never had one. But now, things were different. In fact he had a job stopping himself shouting “Hallelujah” at the top of his voice. Instead though, his “Amen” was said just a little bit louder and more forcibly. He didn’t, after all, want to draw attention to himself, or make himself look foolish with too much enthusiasm.

The end of Mass finally came. Charlie rooted in his pocket for his car keys – but they were not THERE! Panic stations. They were the key to the Universe. Oh my God, what was he going to do? He could just imagine God saying to him,

“You see, I can’t trust you with ANYTHING.”

As if Charlie didn’t know this anyway. His wife said it to him three or four times a day. But this was DIFFERENT. It was the key to the UNIVERSE, not just the front door.

“Well that’s YOUR fault,” Charlie imagined himself saying back to God. “You know what I’m like. You created me this way.”

Charlie hunted everywhere for the keys, including in the Disabled toilets. But……nothing! He stood in the corridor looking wan. As he stood, Bill came by, and asked him what was wrong.

“I’ve lost my car keys,” Charlie said.

“Oh dear,” said Bill, “I’d better help you look for them then.”

Bill rooted around for a while, in various nooks and crannes, not realising the importance of these keys. But he found nothing. Eventually he went back into the church, to the pew where Charlie had been sitting. Maybe they had fallen out of his pocket onto the floor during the Alleluia.

Soon, the priest came to join him. No longer in his celestial robes, he went down on his knees and scrabbled around underneath the pew. No sign of any keys.

Bill, accompanied by the priest, made his way to the church car park where Charlie was waiting anxiously. No one knew the secret of the keys, not even the priest, and God only knew what HE would say if he knew the truth.

Suddenly, Doris appeared, and saw everyone looking perturbed.

“What’s wrong?’ she inquired.

“It’s Charlie’s car keys. We can’t find them,” said Bill. The priest nodded.

“Oh I know where they are,” Doris said. “They’re in my handbag. I was doing a bit of cleaning and I found them so put them in my handbag for safekeeping.”

Then, with great aplomb, she produced from her rather scruffy handbag, the key to the Universe.

“Alleluia,” said Charlie, with much more enthusiasm and conviction than he had ever had in church. His joy was now unbounded.!


Willow weeps sad tears
When autumn’s glory passes
Winter undresses

Tears turn to joy Spring
Begins to clothe the branches
Life returns again

Full summer’s heat leaves
Thick with the fullness of life
Joy in abundance

Colours glowing leaves
Filling us with the delights
That autumn brings us

Soon leaves die and fall
Becoming dust on the ground
Saying we are dust


Yesterday you came to me
In dappled green and gold
A distance kept between us
Words flew through the air

In dappled green and gold
We plumbed the murky depths
Words flew through the air
Landing in our hearts

We plumbed the murky depths
Trying to understand the words
Landing in our hearts
The sun shone down on us

Trying to understand the words
Piecing together the past
The sun shone down on us
Whilst still six feet apart

Piecing together the past
Our hearts were joined as one
Whilst still six feet apart
Our bodies could not touch

Our hearts were joined as one
The moments grew into hours
Our bodies could not touch
The ache grew in our hearts

The moments grew into hours
Until we said goodbye
The ache grew in our hearts
Nothing more was said

Until we said goodbye
We felt the heat of the sun
A distance kept between us
Words flew through the air


Beyond what is possible

Comes the impossible

Trying to go beyond

You broke today

For so long

You kept it together

But today

You let it go

And ripped your heart in two

Tried beyond bearing

And now

I have to pick you up

Off the floor

Put you together again

And see your fragility


Soon will come

The breaking of all time

And who then

Will pick you up?


“We’ve hit a HITCH,”Stan shouted, his head poking up from out of the hole in the ground. Normally he had rather a pale complexion, but today it was puce, and he was sweating profusely.

Bertha couldn’t for the life of her understand what was going on, but it seemed to be something to do with drains and Water Boards. It all seemed a bit OBTUSE to her. But she was used to Stan peering up at her from holes in the ground. He and holes seemed to have an attraction for one another. She had lost count of the number of holes that had suddenly apeared in their garden, always occupied by Stan.

Usually, whatever was going on in the hole, Stan managed to deal with. But this one was different. No longer was he in his element, but was sporting the most anguished face she had ever seen. It was obvious, he was beat.

Just then, Cyril, from up the road, walked by.

“What’s up mate?” he inquired, seeing the puce coloured face peering up at him.

“It’s the stop cock,” Stan replied. “I can’t turn it off.”

“Here, let me have a look,” said Cyril.

In a trice, he saw what the problem was.

“You’ve been turning it the wrong way mate.”

In all his years of inhabiting holes, Stan had never done anything so stupid and dumb before. But boy, was he pleased that Cyril had spotted the problem.

“Thanks mate. You’re a STAR,” said Stan.


Much time has passed since I came to this place
I hear names I know but the people have gone
I remember times past and the peace I knew then
My soul yearns to build a new world from the old

I hear names I know but the people have gone
There in the sioil my ancestors lie
My soul yearns to build a new world from the old
But is it too late for my time will soon come

There in the soil my ancestors lie
Their graves are unkempt for nobody cared
Is it too late for my time will soon come
The party is over and everyone’s gone

Their graves are unkempt for nobody cared
For the lives that were lived and the deeds that were done
The party is over and everyone’s gone
But the place is not empty for my memory lives on

For the lives that were lived and the deeds that were done
I offer my prayers in this beautiful place
The place is not empty my memory lives on
And I re-live the years that I had as a child

I offer my prayers in this beautiful place
That the light will shine on and never grow dim
I re-live the years that I had as a child
As the horses come by and remind me of home

May the light shine on here and never grow dim
In perpetuity give them the peace that they earned
The horses come by and remind me of home
My coffin will one day be drawn by them here

In perpetuity give them the peace that they earned
May it come to me too for my time will soon come
Much time has passed since I came to this place
I hear names I know but the people have gone


There is a Love
That will never let us go
At the heart of the Universe
Whatever sorrows may flow
The seas tossing us round
The darkness filling our hearts
Until our heads pound
And though we are lost
In uncertainty and pain
Dressed in deep agony host
To fears and doubts innumerable
Love exists, will always win through
Waiting for us to reach out
And touch the eternal always new


To breathe
To be free
To fly up high
Where the eagles fly
No more to be held down
By the confines of closed minds
That see through a glass darkly eyes
Clouded by the smoke haze that rises
From a fire stoked with misunderstanding


The madman came and put his axe to the tree
Hell bent on cutting out its sacred core
Demons gathered to watch the killing spree

The sap rose then on seeing the madman’s glee
The tree stood tall ready to go to war
The madman came and put his axe to the tree

Red berries glistened in its sturdy lee
Mesmerised the madman watched blood pour
Demons gathered to watch the killing spree

The madman believed that he was truly free
In spewing evil opening hell’s door
The madman came and put his axe to the tree

Holy innocence cried to One in Three
Blood and water cleansed the madman’s gore
The madman came and put his axe to the tree
Demons gathered to watch the killing spree

#FOWC. Pergola

FOWC with Fandango — Pergola

Eric was known for his mad ideas vis-a-vis the garden. Often he could be seen carrying a large stone around, looking a mixture of both purposeful yet bewildered both at the same time. His wife, Julie, often thought that the purposeful bit was really a fantasy. The bewildered bit was really him. Indeed, life did often seem to bewildering.

“I’m building an arbour,” he said one day to Julie.

“Oh yes,” she replied, in a faraway tone, with a faraway look in her eye. She’d heard it all before. Whatever Eric constructed, it always fell to bits, or ended up wonky, or something.

It was her fiftieth birthday. Not that the day was really any different to her. She got up, did her usual chores, and then went off to her job as a dinner lady at the local school. She had been lucky to get the job. There had been many applicants, but she was the one they chose for the job. It was odd, really. She didn’t even like children. In fact she rather disliked them. But strangely, she was good with them. And somehow or other, she had managed to produce three herself.

It was a nice bright, sunny day, and she got on with her usual routine, not expecting anything in particular to mark this milestone in her life. But as she began to walk down the path to the house, on her return from work, she spied a strange structure in the garden. What on earth had been going on? Eric had surpassed himself. It was beautiful. Though how he had built it quite so quickly she did not know.

“Come and look,” he said to her, as he saw her coming down the path.

He took her by the hand and led her up the garden to where the strange structure was.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Julie was lost for words. But what was it?

“It’s a PERGOLA,” he said. “I had them come and erect it whilst you were at work. Just think of all the beautiful plants we can grow now, and we can sit in here drinking our wine at nights, looking up at the stars.”

Julie was dumfounded. In all of their thirty years of marriage he had never been in the least bit romantic. But it was a nice change, and she found herself thinking, though she did not say it,

“At least this one will not fall down.”


What is this light that shines
However dark the road
What is this light
That just cannot go out
Though sometimes only a glimmer
What is this light that shines
That none other than you can see
What is this light
What is this light
Oh my soul
Praise for the light
That darkness can never quench
Praise for the light
That is pure, uncreated


Last night I saw the sun
And knew that it was calling me
It saw me too
Had been waiting
Knowing that this moment would come
It was destined
Long before time began
Even before the world had been born
This place this time
Before all ages this time was waiting
And one day time shall be no more
All will have passed
Even the sun will have gone
But for this moment
The sun is
And it calls me
To the place that was waiting for me


The following article in the link I am giving you shook me on Saturday. It shook me for many reasons. It depicts a scene that is so true for many. I came upon this link by “accident” when searching the internet for something to help myself. Finding this shocked me to my core. It gave rise to some of the poems I have written over the weekend. The truth hurts. Yes, it does. This story hurts. Yes it does.

I could say many things about lockdown. I could write many things. But never say the thing that matters most.

So many people judge. So many people think that they have the “answer.” A stock answer. But some people do not and cannot fit into boxes.

We are good, in our society, at creating boxes for people to fit into. Good at labelling. Thinkng we know the answers. But we don’t. Sometimes life is just shit. And sometimes the “answer” is to be able to get away from the problem for a while, since there is no solution, but during lockdown there is no way to get away from the problem to gain breathing space and solitude away from the pain.

Having mo real human beings to hold your hand in the pain, during lockdown can make a situation unbearable.

Please read this link if you possibly can

My abusive husband kicked me out so I had to sleep on the street during lockdown


Is the day
We will sit
Under the willow tree
That weeps
And I will smile
Defying the truth inside
Denying the real pain
Yes, I will smile
Whilst inside
Is the dark
That I will not let you see
Not because
I don’t want to
But because
You would not understand
And you might judge
And I will be torn
Because the veil needs
To tear
The dark
So that
In the dark
We can cry
But tomorrow



Tread softly as you go into the night,
For many before have journeyed on this road,
Soon will come the dawning of the light.

Do not let your dark thoughts cloud your sight,
Raging long while carrying your load,
Tread softly as you go into the night.

Take heart from those of old who in the fight,
Preserved within the promise of a heavenly abode,
Soon will come the dawning of the light.

The light cannot be quenched by grief’s great might,
Sing, for joy on you will be bestowed,
Tread softly as you go into the night.

Speak soft and gentle words when at the height
Of darkest struggles, do not goad,
Soon will come the dawning of the light.

Let not your heart be troubled, glimpse the bright
Joys ahead, sweet heavenly food,
Tread softly as you go into the night,


Inside me I have
A very dark place
That no one knows about
A secret that I must keep
A room for it to live in
With thick walls
Only I
Have the key to the door
Sometimes I long
To unlock the door
Let someone see in
And know the dark secret
It would stare them in the face
With startling eyes
Such as they would never forget
They would turn away
They would cover their eyes
And run
And I would lock the door
To the room again
And be afraid to unlock it
Ever again
And show the secret
To anyone


When the going is rough
And the rough is in the going
Take me on the tide
To a better place
But first let me ride the waves
Tread on the stones
That sharpen my wit
And strengthen my resolve
And lead me to calmer shores
Where I can eat and enjoy
The fruits of my labour
Lie in the sun
And savour the delights of heaven


The man I knew is on the rocks
Soon his games will be ended
I am out of my box

Crafty he was, like a fox
No one my soul defended
The man I knew is on the rocks

I can’t turn back the clocks
None of it was intended
I am out of my box

His love was like sweet smelling stocks
On deception he depended
The man I knew is on the rocks

Those he despises he mocks
I the one he befriended
I am out of my box

Now for a good detox
My spirit has now ascended
The man I knew is on the rocks
I am out of my box


The wooden gates were closed today
Keeping me from the beyond
Many dragons I had to slay
Demons assailed me on the way
Many there were who would naysay
Nothing could break ole death’s strong bond
The wooden gates were closed today
Keeping me from the beyond


So what’s this

With definitions
Boxes for everything
Fit into the box or you die
Who made the rules?
Who wrote the agenda?
Who divided us up?
Who broke up society?
Who made the decision?
It wasn’t you or I my friend
It was the ones “in power”
And many created their own “power” so that they could be important
And “needed”
Well listen well
I do NOT need YOU
I am and will remain FREE
Free to be
How God or whoever
Created me
You will NOT
Put me into a box
You will NOT label me
I do not and will not
Fit into your definitions
Just to make you feel good
To make you feel above
And better than
I am NOT “the sick,  “
“The blind”
“The disabled,”
I am ME
My name is Lorraine


Talk about a roller coaster!

Yesterday was a bad day. VERY bad! But this evening was heaven!

Yesterday we went out to our usual place, in the car, and I attempted to walk on my walking frame up the path to the little church. I knew it would be locked, but I still wanted to walk up the path. I wanted the fresh air – something that hubby does not for some reason want me to have. So he did not get my wheelchair out.

For the first time, I found myself hardly able to walk up the path at all. Remember that I am blind, so it was twice as hard to get up that path anyway. But, my body was so weak that it trembled with utter exhaustion, and my breathing went too,at that point.

I managed to get back to the car ok but I was shocked at the deterioration in my body. All the way home, I felt very black and deeply depressed. To be honest I literlly wanted to leave this earth. I struggled with those feelings. All night. I did not sleep. If this was what life was going to be like, I did not want to live it. Add to that the fact that we are not permitted to have human touch, so no hand to hold mine at that moment of despair, and you have a recipe for disaster. This life feels so unreal now. Masks, no touch, not allowed to meet friends, etc. etc. Just no life at all.

Last night in the middle of all this, I attempted to reach out to someone, via email. A clergy person in our town. Someone whom I know. But sadly, the response was bad. Very bad. I felt let down by humanity in general. Life felt impossible. No one to phone. No one to turn to, in my grief over my body and my even further failing sight. All that I can see are vague shapes, it is like living on the moon.

This morning I think I reached the lowest that I have ever been. Maybe my poems showed that.

This afternoon we did not go out until very late. We were not gone long. But when we got home, I was bursting, from everything, and I could NOT return to my bed, as normal.

Inside, was a maelstrom of emotions. The most horrible emotions. I had given up. But I took my big wheelchair out of the house and sat, in our very SMALL front garden. I am not keen on doing that, because it is close to the pavement where people walk, not thinking about social distancing. It scares me. Especially if they start coughing.

I found myself in heaven! It was drizzling with rain, but I covered up the electric on my wheelchair, and sat there, in my summer dress! Not exactly the thing for the weather, but oh, the feel of the rain soaking me was out of this world. I could hear  cars going past, a helicopter overhead occasionally (were they looking for me? Lol). People bringing their bins in (it is bin day here) dogs barking, people walking past.  just ordinary things, ordinary sounds. But it put me in touch with life again. Normally I am in the house, cut off from the world, where hubby likes me to be. But I honestly felt as if I was in heaven for about half an hour. I would happily have stayed there all night.

Such very very simple things that,when you are fit and healthy, you don’t notice. But to me they were heaven.


Hang onto a wisp
And it disappears in air
That stinks with deceit

Reach for the carrot
Offered to the dying soul
It is pulled away

Hope against hope when
Hope is destroyed and faith too
What is your life worth?



Sitting in the early evening
Sadness filling my heart
I became one
With the dank dark earth
As the willow cried its tears
Bowing to the ground
Touching the earth with its compassion
Darkness growing though still it was light
Tonight I could see no light
For tonight I could not see at all
Dark ominous shapes surrounded me
I knew not who I was
The familiar had gone
And my mind wandered
In a strange land
That could have been the moon
The air became sharp
And pierced me like a sword
I cried in pain
In the dark

#FOWC. Boorish


FOWC with Fandango — Boorish

He really was quite BOORISH, though you would never have known it. When you first met him, he seemed the quiet type. Well, that was what Sylvia thought when she met him. He seemed kind enough.

“Always look for kindness in a man,” her mother had said. It had become almost a mantra.

And so, when Jim came along, Sylvia thought she had found her dream man. Always attentive to her, and making nice comments about her.

“Wherever you go the sun is always shining,” he had said to her one day. Well, that was certainly the way to a girl’s heart.

But she should have known when she went to meet his family. Never in her life had she seen such rudeness. It was a total shock to her. Jim kind of ignored her. It was almost as if she wasn’t there. Once, in the kitchen, she tugged at his sleeve, trying to get his attention, but he was in a world of his own. Taken up in the general family dynamics.

Sylvia was glad to get away from there. Jim returned to his normal self, once away from his family. She could relax now. All was well.

They had a wonderful wedding day. Simple, but lovely. The future looked bright. But soon, Jim started to change. She noticed how he always targeted girls in shops. Trying to make them look small, but in a gauche kind of a way. It got while she hated going anywhere with him. And not only that, but his attentiveness to her started to wane as well. He started to treat her just like he treated the girls in the shops.

Gradually, they lost all their friends. But for Sylvia, matters became worse and worse. What had once been boorish behaviour suddenly erupted into violence.

One dark, drizzly afternoon, a headline appeared in the local newspaper:

“Man Hacks His Wife to Death.”


The wheel went wrong a long while ago
The wheelchair unusable wouldn’t you know
He tried hard to fix it, it wouldn’t obey
But no one could come in despite the good pay
We’re in a pandemic and it is not safe
To let anyone come into our place
The wheelchair was vital for us to exist
But now the wheel’s gone we really are pissed
We limp through each day with curses and rage
And now my frustration has come out on this page
This effin pandemic has done for us all
Just go bugger off I’m not gonna play ball



We’re not meant to live like this
But somehow we do
They talk of “bubbles”
But ours is just two
We reached out to find
Some who might come in
But no one was kind
Life felt rather thin
No one would know
If we lived or just died
We’d be here many weeks
But oh how we’d tried
We’ve no one to ring
No one who cares
Each day there’s a sting
No answer to prayers
Your bubble has burst
Oh Boris my friend
For we are just cursed
Until our sad end


I wish I was teccy
Oh but I do
My life is a mess
Cos teccy is poo
I really can’t take
This messing about
My brain ceases up
I haven’t much clout
Some try to explain
My brain goes AWOL
All becomes fog
So I just write LOL
Relieve me oh Lord
Of this terrible thing
Or I will go mad
And my elastic will ping
Oh how I hate teccy
I’ll go on a wrecky

Formatting Problem

Does anyone know what happens when you write your poem in its correct format eg haiku and then when you copy and paste it into your blog it loses its format?  For instance in the haiku I just posted it came out with line spacing all messed up and whatever I did to try and edit it it refused to change.  I must be doing something not quite right but don’t know what.  Any ideas?  Thanks in advance if anyone knows


We watched the ship go by that day
Waving from the sand dunes
You had no idea that we were there
You’d banned us from the dock

Waving from the sand dunes
I shed so many wretched tears
You’d banned us from the dock
As you set off to make your new life

I shed so many wretched tears
How little did you know
As you set off to make your new life
How very much you were loved

How little did you know
You couldn’t take it in
How very much you were loved
We were your family true

You couldn’t take it in
Your mind was clouded and dull
We were your family true
You needed a mother’s love

Your mind was clouded and dull
“Did my mother love me?” you asked
You needed a mother’s love
We had to tell you a lie

“Did my mother love me?” you asked
Our hearts within us cried
We had to tell you a lie
“She loved you very much”

Our hearts within us cried
The tragedy had come to roost
“She loved you very much”
You lit another cigarette

The tragedy had come to roost
It was many years ago
You lit another cigarette
You paced around the kitchen

It was many years ago
She had a one night stand
You paced around the kitchen
You never knew your Dad

She had a one night stand
You were the unwanted result
You never knew your Dad
Your mother gave you up

You were the unwanted result
Your grandmother brought you up
Your mother gave you up
Your grandmother loved you so

Your grandmother brought you up
She was not your mother
Your grandmother loved you so
You were her flesh and blood

She was not your mother
She’d have given her life for you
You were her flesh and blood
You couldn’t understand

She’d have given her life for you
Now she was in her grave
You couldn’t understand
Now you were setting sail

Now she was in her grave
You believed yourself unloved
Now you were setting sail
Going to a new land

You believed yourself unloved
You had to get away
Going to a new land
Far across the seas

You had to get away
Our tears could have filled the ocean
We watched the ship go by that day
Waving from the sand dunes


See now, the grey turn to silver
Threads in dark winter’s night,
The promise of golden days ahead
When summer’s sun my soul will warm

Threads in dark winter’s night
Paint a picture in the trees
When summer’s sun my soul will warm
The picture will come to life

Paint a picture in the trees
Though winter’s cold my soul does chill
The picture will come to life
As the earth moves round to face the sun

Though winter’s cold my soul does chill
Soon the thickening ice will melt
As the earth moves round to face the sun
The picture becomes complete

Soon the thickening ice will melt
And I will dance in summer’s sun
The picture becoming complete
As grey turns to silver then to gold


I am an observer. Of the world. Of people. Of groups. Of communities. Or at least, I used to be an observer. I am no longer quite that, as I cannot see, so miss signs. You know, body language etc. But I can still sense things. And nothing much has changed. Human nature remains the same.

I “see” that it is mostly the ones who shout the loudest that get the most attention and acclaim. The ones without real talent who drown out the quiet ones who have real talent. I see this all over.

There are many out there who do not make a noise. Who do not suck up to others. But who are real gems. I want to put out a plea to listen to the quiet ones. To give them a space. To not just write them off as shy, or withdrawn, or something. Everyone has a talent. And everyone needs to be recognised as having something that they can give to the world. So, listen. Please listen.

3TC #301 19th July

Stella sat by the ancient church wall. The last of the sun was casting a rosy glow on the church tower, and bathed the wall too in the most ethereal deep pink. She had been coming to sit here for quite a while now, trying to connect with her ROOTS. She thought that PERHAPS if she sat here long enough and often enough her past might come back to life again.

She had been absent from this place for a long time. Occasionally she had returned, but her life had taken her elsewhere. Not that she had wanted it to. It just did. But her heart was always here. Here was where she had been happy. For a while anyway.

Her mother had told her stories. Stories about why they had left this place. It was not good. It turned out that her father had been a common criminal, and had stolen money from his employer. It had been splashed all over the newspapers, and they had had to leave. Stella was only very young at the time, but she had wonderful memories of the place. She had been totally unaware of the drama that had taken place, but her father had left them in the end. She never really understood why. She remembered crying for him, wondering what had happened to him.

It was most ANNOYING though. There was always a car parked up on the pavement, just where she wanted to be. It was impossible for her to get beyond the wall and into the graveyard beyond. For here, one day, she had discovered her great grandmother’s grave. She remembered her well, but her contact with her had been sparse. Her mother had told her that she was not only her great grandmother, but her godmother too. For this was where she had been baptised as a baby. Everyone was baptised in those days. You were covered in shame if you did not have your baby baptised. But this was a very special lady. She had loved Stella above all else, and wanted only the best for her.

It was the last time that Stella was to come here. A pandemic hit, and everyone was locked in their homes. You could only travel if it was absolutely necessary. Well sitting by a grave, talking to your great grandmother was not necessary. Not to the powers that be anyway. That last time though, Stella had had an ominous feeling deep inside her. She didn’t know what it was, but it was unmistakable. Something was about to happen. The church clock struck, and the sun was gone. Stella shivered. It was time to go home.


Today we went to the little hamlet where the little church is, for some peace. It seems so strange that that place has stayed exactly the same despite the pandemic and lockdown. The only difference is that the church is now locked, and no one can go into it. The grounds, however, are still as lovely as ever, in a wild kind of way. There is a nice lawn at the front though, which is cut regularly, and there is a wooden seat facing the church where you can sit if you want to. I long to go and sit on it, but get a bit nervous about it, as quite often cyclists or walkers appear and sit down and have their lunch on it. You never know for sure that no one is carrying anything.

It is strange how the church seems timeless, as does the hamlet itself. It is mentioned in the Doomsday Book, and at that time (1086) there were six households there. Even now, there are only about fifteen or twenty households. Always, it has been a farming hamlet, and in one part it is easy to see that the ridge and furrow method of farming has been used in the past. Now, you can often see two lovely little tractors waiting to be used, called Potsy and Plush. Both are caterpillar yellow! But they seem to have personalities of their own.

The hamlet is no stranger to turmoil, as it was destroyed by the Black Death in the Middle Ages. Then there was all the upheaval of the Reformation period when the people of the church fought to keep their identities and stick to the old faith, despite Cromwell being just down the road at Knaith.

At one time, the man who was at the big Hall next to the church, and who owned all of the land was in the City of Lincoln one day, and there was a rabid dog on the loose, and it bit some children. The man paid for all the children to go to Paris to the Pasteur Institute, as they had just developed a rabies vaccine. All the children were given the vaccine, and all survived.

There is also the story of a priest who died in a fire there. We have no idea exactly where he was at the time, but we wondered about candles and incense!

A sad event was when one of the locals took umbrage at something, and took a gun and shot out some of the beautiful medieval stained glass windows.

Nowadays the church only has a congregation of about six people, and it seems peaceful enough.

It was good to sit there today, away from all the Covid 19 stuff and just relax and listen to the birds singing. Sitting there, it was hard to believe all that has happened over the past few months, and to think of the world we now live in. In fact, I didn’t want to return to that world, and considered getting my tent and camping out there, away from it all!

In the end of course, we had to come home, but I left my heart there.


Your mind is free
In this world of control
Where masks hide your very person
Where rules
Us to a prison of plastic
A clean sanitised world
Who touched lepers
Hemmed in
No human touch
Not even in grieving
No smiles to be seen anywhere
Oh but
Your mind
Is free and there you can fly high
Above the present woes
Chains round  feet
Wings free


I FOUND THIS ON THE INTERNET AND IT DESCRIBES EXACTLY HOW I FEEL.   So often people come along and try to drag you out of what you are feeling, and replace it with something else.  It is detrimental to us however, when this happens.  Please feel free to say what you think though.


ALL feelings are only looking for a loving home, for mercy and protection.
Feelings that have been resisted, pushed away, denied, banished, do not actually disappear; they live on in the darkness of the Unconscious, homeless and hungry for love, pulling the strings in our relationships, our bodies, our work in the world, getting in the way of our joy. Screaming for attention, deep down in the Underworld, they sap and drain our vitality and self-expression, cause us to become reactive, compulsive and obsessive, depressed and anxious, and ultimately affect our physical health… all in their attempt to get us to listen.
Until one day, we remember, all feelings are sacred and have a right to exist in us, even the messiest and most inconvenient and painful ones. And we remember to turn towards our feelings instead of running away. To soften into them. To make room for them instead of numbing them out or ignoring them.
These hungry ghosts, now fed with our love, our warm attention, our curiosity and Presence, now given a home in us, can finally come to rest. They no longer need to pull the strings in our lives. They now have the empathy they always longed for.
So much of our precious life force, our prana, our chi, our sacred energy, is spent on this Sisyphean task of pushing feelings away, trying to make them go ‘somewhere else’, but where would they go? For even the Underworld is within us. So much creativity is released, so much relief is felt, when we break this age-old pattern of self-abandonment, go beyond our fearful conditioning, and try something totally new: staying close to feelings, not pushing them away, as they emerge in the freshness of the moment, looking for their true home – which is our own hearts.
I am eternally grateful to the gods of the Underworld for keeping my feelings safe until I was ready to feel them, for protecting me from what I was not yet ready to protect.
– Jeff Foster


TAKE SEVEN 17th. July

“Of course I am an ADULT now,” thought Jen to herself. “I am supposed to see things differently to when I was a child.” But something in her still lived in her childhood, even though it was ALL different now. In fact, some days it was hard to get her BEARINGS. She often felt a BIT off balance.

Some days she tried to think back and to CALCULATE when she had lived where, as a child. But it was hard. Her life had been so complicated. Abd why was it that whenever she thought of her childhood she could never get the picture of that CHICKEN out of her mind? The one whose neck her Uncle had wrung before sending it to market. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been warned.

“Don’t look,” her grandmother had said. But of course that guaranteed that she would look, and there it was, a headless chicken running round the brooder house. It was the nerves, she had been assured. The chicken was not still alive, but its nerves made it still keep running.

Jen was COUNTING in her head the number of places she had lived, as a child. But it was impossible to remember. They had been like gypsies.

It was DUSK, and her mood was sombre. It was really time to EAT, but she really didn’t feel like it. In fact she felt on EDGE. Nothing felt right. Suddenly she heard the clock chime. It was EXACTLY 4.30 p.m. The time she was born. Often, she had wished that she had not been born. There haad been LITTLE security in her life. It had not been an exactly happy existence. She’d once heard a statement from an African woman,

“I wears life like a LOOSE old robe,” and she wished that she could. But for her it had never been possible. Something was really MISSING from her life, and that thing was love. Her mother had once told her that her NAME had been chosen to make her different. She had wanted it to be a name that no one else had. And that was the mark of it all. Her whole life was different. It certainly wasn’t NORMAL anyway. She was never allowed to do normal things, like play with the other kids or go to the park, or have a PICNIC or something. There was never any relaxation. No laughing was allowed. You committed a cardinal sin if you laughed. In POINT  of fact, you committed a cardinal sin if you did very much.

There was the day when she decided to WANDER off, however. She was hungry. Desperately hungry. Her mother never bothered about food. She looked hastily round to see if anyone was WATCHING, before she went into the shop. She had a WORRY about it, but she was so hungry. She went up to the counter, and asked the shop keeper if she could have a penny as her mother needed it for the gas. The shop keeper looked at her quizzically, but gave her the penny. Jen then immediately went off to the sweet shop and bought herself some sweets to stave off her hunger.

Later, when she got home she got the biggest hiding of her life from her mother. The shop keeper had gone round and told her mother what she had done.

“But I was hungry,” sobbed Jen. “That was why I did it.”