This morning my car (the one that I can’t drive cos I’m blind!) was supposed to be being picked up and taken to the garage to be serviced, But no one came. Turns out they’ve got Covid at the garage, first time it’s really come this close. We know them well at the garage. Sad 😪

Car parked outside
Waiting for something
Expecting a journey

Getting spruced up
Into good nick
Brrrrm brrrrm brrrrm

No one comes
Not picked up
Covid got ‘em

Can anyone help please? Block Editor Problem

I have had to use a newer iPad today. I have found that with the new Block Editor my poems will not post t in their correct format. They just go on like prose. I have fiddled around a lot but can’t make it work. My old iPad is knackered. So if this cannot be solved I will be another one that bites the dust through Block Editor. I have tried really hard to follow instructions to get to Classic Editor, but being blind, I can’t do it. How do I make my poems post in their correct format in Block Editor. Anyone?


She’d been a PEST all her life.  At least, that’s what her mother thought.  For some reason Kathy’s presence would IRRITATE her mother.  Well, mother such as she was.  Everything seemed to ANNOY her. Always had, but more so just lately.  Mind you, she was getting on a bit.  But every single day she would haul herself into town, pushing her trolley, leaning on it as she shuffled along.  
“I love people,” she used to say to Kathy, as she described sitting on one of the seats in The Foundry at the bottom of the High Street where the bus station used to be, talking to anyone and everyone.  
“First I knew of it,” thought Kathy.  
Her mother had always been one to remain aloof from people, and Kathy had been denied friends as a child.  Never allowed to join in anything.  No one was good enough for her mother.  But old age changes people.  That was the conclusion Kathy came to.  She marvelled at how her mother managed, defiantly, to walk the two miles into town every day.  
“She’ll die when she can’t do it any more ,” said Kathy to Rob.  And that’s exactly what happened.  There came a day when her mother could no longer even make her way to the kitchen in her house, and was confined to a chair in the corner, looking out of the window at people passing by.  Then she lost the will to live.  And that was it.  She died on a cold November night.  The Undertaker covered her body in a black cloth as he took her out of the house.  
“That would have annoyed her,” thought Kathy.  “Red would have been better.”


There they sat at the edge of the wall
Blowing gently in the wind
Yellow heads brightening the grey brown day
Surprising us as we passed
It wasn’t their season but there they danced
Speaking to us of hope

In the darkness all we need is hope
And here it was by the wall
I felt that my heart inside me danced
To the rhythm of the wind
For a time the darkness within me passed
In the glowing hope of the day

I’d waited long for such a day
To give me back my hope
So often had we this place passed
Never noticing the wall
Many times we’d felt the wind
But never had my cold heart danced

Many times in my life I’d danced
With so much joy in every day
Celebrated in rain and in wind
Always knowing deepening hope
Strengthened in days when I hit a wall
Darkness always quickly passed

Many things in my life have passed
Many times with you I’ve danced
Run and leaped over many a wall
Never defeated by the day
We knew the meaning of true hope
Never blown off course by the wind

I loved to feel on my face the wind
Waiting with you as the storm passed
Holding onto the hand of hope
Oh how often we two danced
Facing together each wondrous day
Our hope adorning the wall

Flowers by the wall as we passed
Blowing in the wind as they danced
Filling the day with glorious hope


With me lost worlds
That still speak through the gloom
Nature in all its wonder, clangs,
What is it saying now to me?
That the sun still shines bright
Warming my skin
Birds call

Do you
Hear nature call?
It says so much to me
But I am learning its language
Join me
In this
World of sound, the wind blowing, brooks
Singing for joy by day
Let us know joy
In sound


When the world rocks
And your soul knows not where it is
Existence becomes a nightmare that never leaves
You learn the transitory nature of safety
When you try to cling onto
This ever shaking world
And once again you are thrown off course
Like a meteor in space
You learn the futility of trying to cling onto anything
Lost in space your scream is not heard
And never finds a home
Then one day you find a Source
That rocks you with love
The shaking ceases
And you rest
Sighing out your pain
In the healing flow
You hear the words “Come……”
Strong yet gentle arms
Go around you
Hold you
And you know

Sent from my iPad


As a new day begins
And the birds sing their merry song
I awake
And pain stiffens my body
I hold myself taut
As if not to disturb the pain
To make it angry
If you leave it alone
It will go away
You hope
Try to ignore it
Give it no credence
It likes to be important
A cry escapes my lips
I yell for help
The pain is aroused
I reach for my tablets
Kill it! Kill it!


We sat yesterday in an empty room
Full of the nothingness of despair
Two metres apart we shared our hearts
Our eyes meeting our hearts melding
Soon, soon, I began to cry
You sat there not knowing what to do
The empty room ws full of my tears
Filling the metres of separation
Our hearts were suddenly set on fire
The flames of love began to burn
The two metres rule held us in a vice
Until suddenly the flames propelled us
And in that moment we were one
I in your arms and you in mine
We clung on tight as if to defy
The inhumanity controlling our world
We clung and we clung and couldn’t let go
And vowed that the rules would not hold us down
We declared our love in that once empty room
And knew that forever would live on for ever


River you sweep me into a sea of suffering
So great is my cry, deep calls to deep
But there appears a boat to carry me
The name of the boat is Love
Oh how great a Love this must be
To carry me over such deep waters
How strong, how true, how tender
I embrace this Love that is stronger than death itself
I live in Love, my soul fused with Love
And together we travel safely
Over the deep waters of suffering


I will die at the ripening of the corn.
With the poppies playing all around.
Every dog will have its day
And every man his meal
At the going down of the sun
Remember me.

I want to go while the light is bright,
While the flowers dance and the birds do play,
Before the winter’s snows do come.
And cold doth wrap my body round.

I once was young, and I did play,
In golden cornfields all the day,
And now the dark does fold around
My aching restless body.

The bell doth toll while curlews call,
And birds their homes do find,
And now I too must find my home
With God Who calls me home to rest.


And now the dark days lengthen
So many friends have gone
I feel my spirit strengthen
Though so much feels so wrong

So many friends have gone,
Too many now to mention,
And so much feels so wrong,
The world is held in tension

Too many now to mention,
I sing my own sad song,
The world is held in tension
For better days I long

I sing my own sad song,
Free from all pretension,
For better days I long,
Time taught me a lesson

Free from all pretension
With those I live among,
Time taught me a lesson
Don’t join in the throng

With those I live among,
There can be no invention,
Don’t join in the throng,
No need to make impression

With those I live among,
I grieve with deep intention,
No need to make impression,
My time now is not long

I grieve with deep intention,
To a new place I belong,
My time now is not long,
I make my sad confession

To a new place I belong
My eyes detect perfection
I make my sad confession
And now the dark days lengthen

Take Seven.

Ralph lay there on his BACK in the snow. There was no BLOOD, and he was fine. Carol started to laugh, then a CHEEKY boy walked past and joined in the laughter, making some joke about falling down. The problem was, Ralph did not find it funny. He began to bristle. But that was how he always was. Things that most people would laugh at, Ralph took seriously. Carol was only just beginning to learn this. All she knew was that if it had been her, she would have been laughing hysterically.

They’d met at University. Both of them were quite CLEVER. It wasn’t long before the love affair began. He had invited her to the Halls Christmas Ball. A formal. affair indeed, calling for a long ball gown and formal wear for him too.

Carol planned for the event excitedly in her head. He talked about it a lot. It was going to be a very special occasion. Finding a ball gown was very exacting for Carol. It had to be just right. In the end she got a friend back home to make her one. A beautiful turquoise colour with silver going through it.

The night arrived, and Ralph greeted her with a beautiful FLOWER. It was an orchid, to pin onto her gown. Perfect. Of course, there was FOOD as well. Carol was never much of a one for food. A scanty eater, she weighed only seven stones. It was impossible for her to GAIN weight, even if she had wanted to.

Suddenly, she had such a FRIGHT. A mouse ran out from under a table. She screamed. Everyone jumped HIGH in the air, or so it seemed. The JOY of the evening was spoiled. But at that point an OLD professor appeared, who amazingly managed to bash the mouse on its head with his crutch. He only needed to do it ONCE, and that was it. Squashed mouse! There wouldn’t have been any time for the mouse to feel PAIN. The action was swift, and final.

After that, Carol and Ralph, though rattled, decided to PERSEVERE with the evening, and not let it bother them. Carol was aware of the RIVALRY that went on between the women regarding their ball gowns. But she didn’t want to get into anything like that. She just wanted to enjoy herself with her man. She certainly wasn’t going to START joining in any such thing. She wore her gown with great STYLE.

Everything seemed set for things to be wonderful. A fantastic future was to be theirs. One of huge SUCCESS. She and Ralph became so close that they were almost TELEPATHIC.

Then came the shock. Ralph failed his final exams. In fact he failed to gain his degree. He had never been so UNHAPPY in his life. So much had been expected of him by his family. Their WISH had always been for him to do well. A polio victim, he had struggled with disability almost all of his life. Not that it was that noticeable. He had one leg that was shorter than the other, but Carol had hardly noticed it. And so, when he fell down in the snow, she was shocked at his reaction. The snow was soft, and he was not hurt. But on that day she learned just how sensitive he was. And she vowed never to laugh again.


He told her about the FLOWER on the bush in the BACK garden. A beautiful yellow colour. She loved yellow. In these drab days when her sight was going, she could still see yellow even if in a rather washed out kind of a way. It was strange, but yellow was the colour of the first item of clothing that she’d bought when she went into remission from cancer. There was just something about yellow. She’d gone to the clothes shop in a nearby small town, where the owner of the shop helped her. None of her OLD clothes fitted her any more but she needed help to find some more.

Diane was just the person. Known for the individual attention that she gave to customers, who in time became her friends, she would be the one to set Helen back on the path to some semblance of normality, but Diane didn’t like yellow. Well, more to the point, she told Helen that it just did not suit her. That made Helen even more determined to wear it. And indeed , she did go elsewhere and purchase a bright yellow coat. It made her feel so good. But she continued to go to Diane’s shop, and they became good friends. The only problem was that Diane thought she was St. Brigid. She had found out about St. Brigid whilst on holiday one year in the Lake District, and now, she imagined herself to be that very saint.

Helen began to wonder about Diane. There were one or two other things that troubled her. But they remained friends. Often, Helen would go into the shop even when she didn’t want to buy clothes.

Then came the Day of the Bad News. Diane was packing in her Business. Helen could hardly believe it. Diane had said that she would always be there, and that she couldn’t manage without it.

It was a very sad day, and on the very last day of business, she attempted to go to the shop to see Diane, but Diane did not want to see her, saying that she could not bear Goodbyes.

Helen was very saddened. But one day, whilst in the town, she spied a figure walking along the street wearing strange clothes, looking exactly like St. Brigid. And she knew that Diane was alive and well.

Written for Your Daily Word Prompt – LAMBENT

I watched the LAMBENT candle
Absorbing the torrent of emotions
In my world there was no light
And even this was electric
Manufactured like your love
The shreds of me are out in the garden
Messing up the lawn
You left without even knowing
That you had cut me deeply
And left me there in pieces
And now I am just a body
My me gone for ever
Sitting looking at this candle
That like me has no heart
Dancing in the dark
Electric pulsing
I can turn you off and turn you on
At will


The great doors to the Sheldonian Theatre opened. There we all were, lined up in groups of four, waiting to make our dramatic entrance. According to what they said, I was meant to feel something. After all, this was SUCCESS. But I felt nothing. Well, nothing to speak of.

It had been a long journey down, my Dad in the back of the car with us. My mother had refused to come.

“You are not degree material,” my old school headmaster had said. So I went off and did something completely unsuitable for me – and failed!

I always knew that to PERSEVERE would bring success. And hopefully JOY. But on this most dramatic of days in that amazing Theatre, I felt nothing. Certainly not joy. Those at the front had pushed their way in, tantalised by the prospect of seeing those great doors open. They had been told about this wonderful feeling that they would have at that moment – and so they had it!

We all shuffled slowly to the front of this great Theatre, watched by all those above us in the spectator seats. Once positioned, standing before God knows what, I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. The gown was getting on my nerves. It kept slipping off my shoulders. My shoes were hurting, and I wished I was anywhere but here. But this was success. I was about to receive a First Class Oxford degree. I should have been happy.

We went through the motions, following the sheet, until that moment when our name was read out. And, true to life, they got my name wrong. What a let down!

“Are you proud of your daughter?” the Tutor said to my Dad, once out in the grounds after the ceremony, a stupid mortar board perched perilously on my head.

“Why? What’s she done?” my Dad asked. Typical!

The tutor coughed a bit, then walked away.

“Dad,” I said. “I got an Oxford degree.”

“What’s a degree?” asked my Dad.

“Oh, never mind,” I said.

FOWC dumbfounded

I’m not sure whether I was DUMFOUNDED or just pissed off! Anyway, it was all to do with a cabbage and a fence. At least I think it was – but it might have been something else. There were so many queer goings on down that road. What with an elderly French lady who lived in the bungalow across the road who had a monk attempt to murder her – well that was what she said anyway. The police arrived one morning, in hazmet suits and Babs’s eyes were like saucers, mind you, that was nothing new – they were often like saucers. I never knew what happened to the teacups, but I think Mrs. Brown might have had them.

Anyway, about the fence and the cabbage. Babs was our next door neighbour, and Harold, her other next door neighbour had thrown a big cabbage at her that morning, so she was already in a bad mood. We’d just returned home early from a camping holiday. It had done nothing but piss it down, and we’d had enough. So I wasn’t very happy when hubby called to me in the bath (me, not him – I was in the bath) and told me that Babs was pulling our fence down. Well, that did it! I was fed up with her games, and I got out of the bath all in a rush, hair standing up on end, galloped to the landing window, not a stitch on, like a wailing banshee, and told her to get her hands off our bloody fence.

That did it. Set her off about two rats that had appeared on our patio. I was as shocked as she was to see them there, and they had come from the drainage dyke at the side if the pub on the corner. But suddenly, they were our own personal rats, and she was instructing us to get the Council to come to get rid of them. I mean, I ask you!

Anyway, now their house is like Fort Knox. It’s probably Babs and Gerry proof as well as everything else proof.


I want only to make music with my breathing
Soft and gentle notes like the wind
Blowing, blowing,
Oh my Love, my Love,
Until we become one
I hear the soft rain falling
The mountain stream singing
And I lie in the long grass
My eyes upturned towards heaven
My flute at my side
My gracious, gracious Lover


Ron tugged at the line going into his arm. He hardly knew what he was doing, the PAIN was so bad. They’d warned him about this particular drug.

“Grown men cry at this one going in,” they said.

Well, still Ron wasn’t prepared for its onslaught. It felt like ice cold knives going into his arm. Pure instinct made him pull at the line.

“No no, don’t do that,” the nurse said. “This stuff is dangerous. It mustn’t touch your skin.”

Ron was getting more and more UNHAPPY by the minute. And desperate. The process usually took about half an hour, but today the pump was on the blink. It would take at least an hour for the drug to go in.

“Bloody cuts,” he muttered under his breath.

The nurse was TELEPATHIC and knew what he was thinking.

“I’ll make a note of it,” she said. “Though I don’t guarantee they’ll give us new pumps for next time.”

Ron screamed inside as he contemplated ten more chemo sessions. Yes, he was a grown mand. And he wouldn’t cry.
Only his insides would scream.


It is late in the day with time all gone
The light is fading and I cannot see
The birds are singing their sad evening song
I close my blind eyes and wish to be free
Bound by the strong chains of darkness I reel
My head is spinning I search for the light
Thrashing around with hands that can’t feel
I wonder if I can keep up the fight
I listen for night songs that others can’t hear
Music can soothe me caressing my heart
I feel with my soul now gone is all fear
Sweet dancing notes are all playing their part
I am revived as I taste the sweet Bread
With Heavenly Hosts all singing I’m fed

Found This 😂

Oh no! How could this have happened?
The virus seems to have spread even faster in the areas where the lockdown has been brought back – and scientists are saying it’s because there is “confusion” about the rules. But the rules are simple, as explained here:
To start with, the maximum number of people allowed in a room is nought. So, if you find yourself in a room, you must leave immediately.
You can go to work, but not to the pub – unless you work at the pub. So, if you’re a builder you can go to the pub as long as you demolish the wall while you’re drinking.
If you are Christian, you must inform Jesus he can’t be with you for 14 days, unless he’s in your bubble. But even then he cannot lay his hands upon you, unless it’s to cure you. This must be done by booking a slot at a healing centre, which you must search for online, where you will be told the nearest place to find Jesus currently is Plymouth. And there’s a three-month waiting list.
Only four people are permitted within a degree of longitude, so if you are in Manchester you must check with the Foreign Office to see if anyone is in Guernsey or Morocco at the time. And if there is, you must leave immediately for Russia. But you must get there without travelling. Local guidelines will be published in the future, so you are advised to guess what they are. But if you are from an area with local restrictions, such as the North East or China, you must immediately come from somewhere else, such as the Cotswolds.
The guidance that you must go to work, and that you must not go to work, has changed so often in some areas that you must go to work and not be at work at the same time.
If you are in an area like this, you must cease to exist for 14 days or risk arrest by the police, who will then release you as they’re not allowed to be at work.
The maximum number of people allowed in your bubble is six, though you can have 15 people at a wedding. So if you want to invite more than six to your bubble, you must marry one of them. If you divorce at the end of the evening there could be a fierce legal battle as to who has custody of the bubble.
So, if you want to carry on enjoying yourselves, it makes more sense for one of you to murder the other, as 30 people are allowed at funerals. However, there are strict rules about singing, which is completely banned. Unless you’re singing Rule Britannia as that makes the virus patriotic and only infects foreigners.
If you’ve been within two metres of a bee, you must move to Peterborough. And Stanley Johnson is entitled to do whatever he likes. As long as he goes on Good Morning Britain afterwards and says: “I’m Stanley Johnson, so I’ll do whatever I bloody well like.”
[This clarification was brought to you by Mark Steel and tidied up a bit from the Mirror article, which was all over the place – rather like the rules themselves!]


Just finished the first chapter of my book, entitled “Treasures of the Darkness.” Phew! Am worn out now lol. Don’t know how many chapters there are going to be, but it’s an emotional journey lol. It has kept me from my Blog a bit. But needs must! This book HAS to be written! 😀


Walking by the old stone wall
I thought of those who walked before
Behind the wall a sacred space
Guarded by the rowan tree
I looked and saw its laden boughs
And felt the laden hearts of souls
Now enshrined in graves of stone
Who could know the pain they bore
Or the blood that had been shed
Pure existence wore them out
But now they rest behind the wall
Red berries falling on their graves
Like blood once spilled upon the ground
In innocence and purity
Flowing from the Tree of Life
To take us to a better place


When no one can help
When nature loses its comfort
When lost in a world that lives on without you
When the curtain between you and the world will not tear
When no longer can you go on but have to
When birds sing but you can no longer join in
When nothing means anything
When even human touch can no longer help
When all anyone can do is just watch and wait




A black blanket
Covers me, suffocates
As if I am a dead body
Into my dark tomb dead people
Cannot feel under their
Black blanket but
I feel

I feel
The world around
My dead body going
On its way doing its business
I dead
I go unnoticed death took me
Yet still I breathe the air
That gives no life
To me

Fandango’s Friday Flashback: time Will Be No More

The world is in motion
Nothing still
As the Dance goes on
Forming patterns like the crystals of a snowflake
Painting pictures
Creating stories
Is there really a time for everything
Or is everything in its time?
And is there a difference?
Soon, time will be no more
The Dance will end
As eternity calls
The picture will be complete
But how will the story end?
As eternity calls
A new book will be opened
A book called “The Book of Life”
And in this book
A day will be like a thousand years
And a thousand years like a day
And here, there will be no endings
Or even beginnings
For time will be no more
In a life that is eternal

Take Seven. 2nd. October

He was always one for a bit of a BET. Uncle Walt, that is. He’s dead though, now. Along with a lot of other people! My Nan used to tell me about him. She’s dead too, But when they were alive they always used to have a bet about who could get their legs around their neck. It all came to an end when Nan got a BOYFRIEND. Well actually he was the farm hand, but he became her boyfriend. He’s dead now, too. But he made my Nan pregnant. Maybe it was the CHEESE that did it. I have no idea what kind of cheese they ate, but I know from television adverts that some kinds of cheese do queer things. I think it was a bit of a kind of a drip drip on Nan’s head really. There was always plenty of good FARE on the table, it being a farm where they lived. And Great Grandad treated Nan a bit like a servant. They did in those days. The farm hand stuck up for her to Great Grandad. Told him off good and proper he did. Nan began to take a real shine to him. That’s why she became pregnant. But there was a lot of FEAR in the house too. Great Grandad really used to give everybody a lot of FLACK. It wasn’t much FUN all round when Nan got pregnant. It just wasn’t done in those days. In fact some people thought that they should HANG the man who did it to an innocent girl.

Actually Great Grandad kept making Great Grandma pregnant. Not sure how many they had because they lost a few . People did in those days. But they weren’t NEGLIGENT. No, but they were very strict. And the kids didn’t often get NEW clothes. Nan once told me about how she fell into a muddy PUDDLE the one time she did get a nice new dress. Great Grandma was really angry, and yelled at her,

“What did you mean by falling into that puddle?”

Nan replied that she couldn’t help the RAIN. And that just for the RECORD, Walt had fallen in worse than puddles many a time.

But, if Great Grandad had not kept making Great Grandma pregnant, then my Mum wouldn’t have been born, and then neither would I. And that might have been a good thing because I am always making up silly stories like this. Only trouble is, this isn’t really a silly one because it is all true.

I think there was a lot of RHUBARB around in those days. Not being far from Yorkshire, they acquired the habit. It wasn’t a bad one though. Great Grandma used to SKIM the top off the milk, to make some lovely creamy custard. She was very SUBTLE in how she did it too, putting in a secret ingredient that she would not reveal to anybody. That made Nan a bit mad, really. She always wanted to know everything, and didn’t like secrets, unless they were hers. Being pregnant was one of them – for a while anyway!

Great Grandma was a wonderful seamstress. She could do anything with a needle and THREAD. Often, whilst she was sewing, she would get the TOFFEE tin out, and hand them round. It was often quite a sticky occasion, but not quite as sticky as being pregnant when you weren’t meant to be.

Anyway, for a while, Nan felt herself to be a bit of a WORM, though she swore blind it was not her fault, and that she hadn’t known what she was doing. Probably quite true in those days. But who knows, it might have been WORTH it in the end because I got born. I’m still not quite sure whether that was a Good Thing or a Bad Thing!


A Repost of an old poem that I loved writing

Sitting in the sacred place
Waiting for eternity
My Beloved came to me
He knelt and washed my feet

Waiting for eternity
My heart began to break
He knelt and washed my feet
And then I knew the truth

My heart began to break
As Love stooped down before me
And then I knew the truth
He understood my heart

As Love stooped down before me
Our souls became as one
He understood my heart
I knew as I was known

Our souls became as one
United for eternity
I knew as I was known
The touching place was here

United for eternity
I knew I was secure
Sitting in the sacred place
Waiting for eternity