May

 

I did think I might do more on the blog this year but since my last post (a poem just after the start of Russia’s attack on Ukraine) I’ve had nothing to offer here (though I’ve had a couple of false starts). I’ve been posting pics and things on Instagram (where I have some good interactions) and Twitter (where I have very little) but a blog post (for me) is more of an undertaking. What have you got to say that needs this space? What needs more than the 280 characters for Twitter or the tiny Insta slots (that many people won’t read anyway – it being more about the images)? In the past couple of months the answer to that has been nothing special. I follow the news. I follow lots of campaigners and other writers and musicians and artists and see what they are doing and saying. I get on with my own day jobs and family responsibilities and float about like a pretty useless, dirty old feather in the wind. I have absolutely not been writing any poems; I’m barely writing my diary just now. Instead, like most of us with our ever-present cameras (via phones), I take photos, grab memories, look at them again and again to remind myself of good things and good times (even just that cup of tea in the sunshine, that feisty flower growing out of the pavement). I’m not a person who talks about things like ‘being grounded’ but I suppose that’s what they do for me. It’s something like that.

Also it’s a difficult contrast that, with wars and struggles still ongoing in so many places, it has turned to spring here and that’s very welcome. There are colours and new life all around and that feels so mighty. I’ve been reading some great books, listening to some lovely music (some old, some new, see above). I have been lucky enough to get out a bit and been to a couple of exhibitions and shows with our daughter. It’s a small life – but what else would it be?