Plasters Don’t Stick for Long


It’s not a bolt out the blue, all along they knew. They’ve always known. The house of god guiding the masses; a place of solace for the working classes. For some, the need was theirs. They suppressed and stole. Innocence and trust. An ungodly thrust. Don’t utter a word. Mustn’t bite the hand that feeds. But they fed off youth. Goliaths army fought the truth. Time ticked on, but it still goes on. Vultures in glass towers, asserting their powers. Towers are modern day shrines, for the likes of Bernstein.  Invited underlings, young and unprepared. No doubt scared. Some fled and the others stayed. “They’re as much to blame; they wanted the fame”. It’s not that simple. Unguarded, alone. Frozen in place with a strong man invading your space. Cloak the dirt, don’t let them dare blurt. But the word is out. There was Polanski, Cosby and Saville. Lives did unravel. Penalise. Plaster over cracks in towers. Later 100 want to free Polanski, “He’s ours.” That’s the thing with the strong. They have a hold over you. Plasters don’t stick for long. What’s the solution, other than blaming the victim? The good and strong must speak out, restrict ‘em. For there’s more good men than not. That’s what I’ve always thought.

The Lost Generation

A photo by Milada Vigerova. and friends are all zooming towards our middle aged years. We were camping at the weekends and I had a good time, although at one time I felt like I was on the outside looking in. One couple recently downsized due to debts; the others are extending and buying up and everyone is being pulled apart in all directions with family and work commitments. These were my reflections:

I watch them through the Fishbowl. See them fight for control. Complaining about work powers, who puts in the longest hours. But the pressure’s intense. Tension’s bursting at the seams.  Still they chase bigger dreams. Be worth it in the end. Or so they say. The state of the world now. Brexit, Trump – wow! Should we get off? Boomers post war blessed. Millennials status obsessed. Generation X are forgotten. Others spoiled rotten. Where’s our generation headed? Their parents begin to decline; and kids, man, they can whine! Women guzzle wine and listen to 90’s songs. They dance away life’s wrongs. Talk up their sex lives again, but ignore the strain. Wonder why she wants him – with a marriage so grim? And they keep on dancing. But the last dance is spent. Twenty years just – went. Slaves to ambition, was it the wrong mission? The party must go on. They all drink a few, forgetting what’s true. “Come on men, how’dya get your kicks?” “Tell us the same chicks!” And I wonder how they do. Did they forget as they grew? Manicured lawns and mortgaged to the hilt. Reputations built. Elevated in stature, they found a dream catcher. Worked hard and they’ll get there – they will.

B u t   i t ‘ s    a l l    s o    b l o o d y    d u l l .

Everyday Irritations

I’m a fairly laid-back sort of person and minor inconveniences don’t really bother me. Low maintenance, that’s me. There are some days though, when little household issues get a bit much even for me: When they can’t manage to place the laundry in the basket. It’s just so much work! When it’s just too difficult […]

Why I Write

I’m participating in another Blogging University course. This time it’s a 20 day course and the purpose of it is to offer me some inspiration. This first day I have to write an unedited, off the cuff blog on why I write. So here goes: I write because I can. I switch off from the…

The Complicated Business of New Blogger Identity

It was recently my one year Blogging Anniversary. I was going to write ‘Blogiversary’ but not sure if it’s a real word? As is usual in my life, I let it pass without much of a party. Reminiscent of most birthdays where I don’t want any fuss, then regret it when I get the usual bottle of Cava and box of Ferrero Rocher. So in celebration of blogging for (just over) a year, I’m going to reblog two posts today. This first one was written a week after I began the blog. Was going to delete the final line because it looks odd, but I’ve kept it in because I am often confused!


The Daily Word Prompt is ‘Confused‘.  This epitomises my blogger beginnings.

At a week old my blog is a newborn, but the run-up to the birth was more confusing than my actual baby pregnancy.

I had to come up with a catchy Blog Name and “walk a mile in their shoes” would fit the bill. The classic line about empathy to highlight the depths of thought I would go to in thinking of others. Perfect!

The problem was, this name was taken by 123,456 people.  This left the longwinded name walkingamileintheirshoes1234567.  No, that wouldn’t do at all. Could you imagine 100,000,000 followers trying to tell their friends to follow that?  After an eternity a while I realised I was going to have to walk a mile in my own shoes if I wanted something vaguely similar.

Wait, would that work? Would people think I was egocentric, walking a mile in MY OWN…

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Plastic Friend

  You don’t want to be here Eyelashes don’t lie they’re ready to fly You can’t be trusted Joker lips are badass Words not worth a brass You can’t be read Spray tan hides your face Emotions lost – no trace You’re somewhere else Posing on a phone Whilst I’m here alone You’re playing with me I’m […]

Tinder Tower


It’s difficult for me to comprehend the suffering of those who were in Grenfell Tower when the fire struck. There are now many questions needing answered.  Reports are coming in describing what could have went wrong at Grenfell (the list is long).  There are stories of Government officials  ignoring safety advice in order to save money and cut corners.

They wanted pretty
Got kitchen sink gritty
Like a sore thumb
Hanging over them

Differences forbidden
Wrap it up, nicely hidden
Tinder tower white
Dangers lurk in sight