Making Memories

This poetry was inspired by my favourite granite city, lovely family, BlueBeretGranny’s profiteroles (Mary Berry eat your heart out!) and one Christmas tree.

I already look forward to Christmas 2014!

Aberdeen

She, who got into her head

that she was Midas’ daughter,

turned the gold of twilight to lead

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Autumnal Haiku

Last week when I talked about November  I was surprised to see how many of my readers liked this morose month and so one day I decided to try something new … 

I wrapped Peanut up in blankets:

  • he turned into a raging banshee
  • I took ten deep breaths
  • he showed signs of being open to bribery
  • I bribed him with with some dried fruit (this strategy works like a charm) and at the same time I corrupted his wee innocent soul …again
  • we went for a walk

My mission was to become friends with November.

How did it go? I will leave it up to you to decide.

Here are some snippets from my diary entries from the last few days:

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Love Song

It often comes without a warning – that feeling of great love that makes your heart swell and stops your breath for a second. 

That moment when you realise that you would do anything to protect that little person toddling next to you is magic (it also is nature’s way of ensuring that everyone survives all the tantrums intact…kind of…).

Love Song

I know you by heart my dear

And I start each day with this song

Remember that I am always near

I know you by heart my dear

To this world and time we belong

Words fail me and I may be wrong

I know you by heart my dear

And I start each day with this song

SAM_2016

 

Prose for Thought

Postcards from Peanut – Edinburgh Airport

BlueBeretMum is on holiday in the lovely city of Krakow, Poland and Peanut has decided to keep the blog going and write a few postcards to keep you up to date on our latest adventures.

Since he must have inherited his mum’s love of badly rhymed verse….well, you know what to expect.  Here is your first postcard from Peanut.  Enjoy!

Hey, you rude man at the front of our queue

Get off my mum’s toe, she’s human too!

Beware of her temper or she will stab you

With her Jimmy Choo (off eBay,

A cheap copy. None of your business so boo hoo).

patrick1

Post Comment Love

Dear Edinburgh (Festival) Tourist

dear tourist

I love Edinburgh most of the time, but during the Festival it doubles its number of inhabitants, which means a distance I could once walk in 5 minutes I now struggle to complete in 5 hours.

So there we go – first written formal warning from BlueBeretMum.

Dear Edinburgh (Festival) Tourist

Oh how I loathe thee at times.

Your obvious ignorance to the rest of  us, the non-tourist population.  Snail – steps and that indecisiveness as to whether to walk into a shop or stand outside and block everyone else’s chance of doing their shopping/passing by and getting home before their blood sugar levels get so low that they will collapse in the street in front of you.

You see, if someone is walking very fast with a roaring toddler in their buggy it probably means only three things: they are in a bloody hurry, yes, they are local and no they have no idea where that café from your guidebook (11th edition from 1999) is, and they are probably late so no they cannot spend the next 100 years trying to figure out where it is you should be right now (that makes four things but I don’t care).

The truth is that you, your family and that herd of Highland cows that you got on sale during your two hour trip of All Things Worth Seeing in Scotland (the cows, the hills and the Loch Ness monster) are taking up my public pavement space.  The rest has been monopolised by a woman with 1,000,001 piercings in her face, a dubious Spanish singer, an incompetent belly dancer and a guild of pickpockets, which means that plain pedestrians like me have to either develop a superpower to fly or use whatever means they have to make any headway.

In my case, the weapon of choice is German and it has four wheels.  The Hauck Shopper buggy has brought down a barrage of luggage and de-heeled the owners on a few occasions.

Not everyone speaks English but if you hear a loud voice behind your back, followed by ‘Raaaaaaaaaah raaah raaaah’ that may imply that someone is trying to tell you something, like ‘Get out of our way or Peanut will miss In the Night Garden and things will get NASTY.’

On the other hand, I must admit that not all tourists are bad and some representatives of your species have provided me with an endless supply of giggles and party jokes.

Life is full of trials and tribulations and I feel for your dilemma:  ‘Should I get a cashmere scarf or shawl?  Do they sell them in pink?’

Alex Salmond is bound to love this great feedback on one of the famous visitor attractions: ‘How convenient they built that castle so close to the shops.’

There are more similar quotes of random spontaneous wisdom that make me question how we, the supposedly thinking kind, manage to get by from one day to another but my bruised subconscious has erased them all in a heroic act of self-preservation.

I understand you are on holiday.  You have never been to Scotland before.  You are in no hurry and want to cherish the sweet moment of admiring the intricate display window of Primark.  You perambulate up and down the Royal Mile in hope you can spot the Queen stuffing her face with the heavenly Edinburgh fudge.

Please, be my guest, take your and my time and have a good long look at the legendary tram works and the workers digging yet another hole in the ground.  Yes, pay extra attention to the famous cracks on show (no, not the pavement ones).

I really understand all that.  After all, I have been on holidays myself (believe it or not) and I cannot read a map to save my life either, but please have mercy because that woman with wispy hair and mad confused expression on her face has probably endured a morning of having bananas rubbed into her only clean pair of trousers and a mini toothbrush shoved into her ear.  Then she spent 45 minutes chasing a toddler around her house.  Said toddler decided to go to nursery bum-bare.  Then he decided to hide.  Toddlers are pretty clever. They can squeeze into fairly small spaces like the washing machine, the kitchen cupboard, the bin and the favourite of all times, the toilet bowl.

So that woman lost all her patience within the first 63 minutes of her awake time.  Now anything else means war.

Every good relationship is about compromise, as in ‘If you move your pile of rucksacks, shopping bags and other travel attire by 2 millimetres I could just squeeze through without risking getting run over by a taxi driver who does not seem to have a great start to the day either.’

Please don’t get me wrong.  I support tourism and the livelihood it provides with all my heart.

Travelling shapes one’s character and expands one’s horizons.

However, hell is other people with suitcases on wheels, so dear Edinburgh (Festival) Tourist , I am asking you nicely.

Please get out of my way.

I will not repeat this request. Again.

I am off to rub some oil into the wheels on Peanut’s buggy.

Yours truly

BlueBeretMum

Haiku VI

Dear Peanut

This week is all about language.  Your first words that sound more and more ‘real’ and less like baby babble (which I find very adorable by the way).

Everyday we listen to you commenting on the food and demanding Unidentified Forbidden Objects.  You get frustrated when we don’t understand what you want – sorry wee man.  Sometimes we get it wrong.

You are growing up surrounded by two cultures and languages and I joke that you will be phonetically confused for a while.  On one end of the spectrum – the pesky English sounds of th and ph.  On the other end – Polish surging sz, cz and szcz as in szczcescie (luck in Polish).

I may be biased but your little voice is the cutest I have ever heard (even when you throw a tantrum – see below).

Love

Mum xxx

h6b

zis, yis, ahmam

your first words

busy swallows in your mouth

h6c

torrential tears, furrowed face

furious frog on the floor

my No – your sprawl

h6a

my keys, my phone, my time

my toast, my drink, my love

Dat  is for what’s yours is mine

copyright BlueBeretMum