Tag Archives: Windsor

Have You Known The Sea?

Dad pic

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the Sussex Coast mid-point last century

Lapping waves of single purpose

Beckoned a boy to Dartmouth and to the taste of salt.

Sub-marine the knots to learn,

Emerging as the loyal servant of a silent capsule fish.

Such tales and whales- the Dolphin Mess!

The toasts, the boasts, the wit so sharp and dry,

Its ocean provenance a mystery.

 

Then Mobe at home his girls he’d join

For runs ashore on Bognor beach,

In dinky boats the windmill-ed Broads to roam.

Or to the Lock-jewelled Thames

The mooring and exploring to commence,

While Windsor’s picnic cruises

In wooden pleasure craft

Were but a twinkle in the captain’s dewy eye.

 

The years they rolled on with the tides

As on its truest path does water flow.

The sky-high view of Worthing’s Avenue

Affording daily reassurance

That still She rages, plays and rests on the horizon;

Powerful and constant,

Never other than Herself,

An unapologetic force of nature.

 

Yes, you have known the sea implicitly,

And now the sea knows you.

*

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Filed under Mumbo Life, Mumbo poems

Swan Couples Counselling

dscf1965

Therapist: So you’ve been having some problems.

Norma says you don’t talk to her.

Cyril: That’s because I’m a mute swan.

Norma: Mute, my arse. You’ve got plenty to say in mating season.

Cyril: Just as well, Dear, if you care to keep breeding like a rabbit.

Norma: Oh, you’ve noticed we’ve got cygnets, have you?

Didn’t think there were just a bunch of ugly ducklings hanging around?

Cyril: Let me see…

I defend our patch from intruders.

I don’t bugger off to avoid my tail-feather freezing in the crappy weather.

I incubate our eggs, like a blithering stay-at-home Dad.

But I’m still not sticking my beak in enough?

Therapist: You seem to be feeling under a lot of pressure, Cyril.

Cyril: Damn straight. I’m up to my neck in domesticity. And that’s a lot of domesticity, if you can see what I’m saying?

One minute I’m cruising the lake, ruffling a few feathers, checking out the birds.

Next thing, I’m perpetually building nests, like a riverside property developer.

Then, day in day out, during tourist season, that’s all you ever hear: ‘Aren’t they beautiful? They mate for life, you know?…’

Flaming well feels like it too.

Norma: Why don’t you just sod off, if that’s how you feel?

Go and shack up with a mallard- see if I care.

Cyril: Yes, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Leave you to the Russian?

Norma: What Russian?

Cyril: That effeminate goose you were after during migrating season.

Norma: Pinkfoot was Icelandic.

I liked his high-pitched honking call, that’s all.

Cyril: Yeah? Well, wrap yourself around a 747 and pay him a visit.

You can offer yourself to Bjork as a party frock, while you’re there.

Therapist: Let’s take a deep breath, for a moment.

Cyril, can you tell me how life would look in an ideal world?

Cyril: I’d like to go all the way on, ‘Who Wants To Win A Lifetime’s Supply Of Aquatic Plants?’, that’s what I’d like.

Or maybe do some work in films or the opera.

Norma: They’re ballerinas in costumes, you pillock.

Therapist: Norma, these are valid comments.

How would you like your life to look?

Norma: Much like it is, really.

More ‘me’ time. A trip to Teddington Lock.

I’d like to lose some weight.

Therapist: Tell me more about that.

Norma: Well, we moved to Windsor last year for a change of scene.

Cyril got a taste for the glamour and I got a taste for the bread.

I’m eating like a foie gras. If the Queen has a state banquet I’ll be first picked.

Cyril: Don’t say that, Norm. You’re still got what you had when we first met.

Therapist: And what was that?

Cyril: She was just different from the others even though she looked exactly the same.

She had this lovely long neck, for instance.

And feathers white as snow.

Therapist: And Cyril?

Norma: He was clumsy as hell. And rubbish at swimming. And he looked a bit dirty- I thought he was gorgeous.

I still do.

Therapist: That’s a great note to end on today.

Before you go, can you think of anything you would you like to say to each other?

Cyril: It may look to you like I’m floating, Love, but my feet are going like the clappers underneath.

Norma: I know, Ducky.

And I may look ready to sink but I’ve still got my head above water.

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