I was four and half when I rushed into Granny and Grampy’s to show off my first school shoes by putting them on the kitchen table. Granny screamed and knocked them to the floor saying in a voice of doom “There’ll be a death in the family”. Sure enough, there was sixty years later.
Her hair had caught in her mouth so she tossed her head back. “Red Campion!” She exclaimed as she walked through the woods. “That’s my favourite flower come spring”. She was, as usual, walking with just her dog but saw no reason not to voice her joy out loud.
Dog sniffed and snuffled amongst the undergrowth whilst she carefully looked for mushrooms at the base of an old oak tree.
Suddenly she was was grasped by the throat and slowly sank to the ground. Her dog galloped about thinking it a game. The man tightened his squeeze, never uttering a sound and she died. He caught the dog, put on its leash and went home satisfied.
But undid it as we were eating.
I’d finished my wine and went for a slug,
And gorrotted myself with feeling
When I go to a beautiful place I share it with my love
When I see a beautiful morning I share it with the bees
When I see an old lady, lonely on her trail, I just smile, pick up her shopping
And listen to her life.
I don’t need to take pictures.
I don’t subscribe to technology
I don’t have a mobile phone
I do have a listening ear
However to harken my neighbours moan
I much prefer bees droning
Then people on their line
Just stop and look at the daisy
The world is just sublime
I’ve suffered a silent carriage
On a train out of Paddington
And heard the low buzzing
From earphones not quite plugged in and quite absurd
Being British I’ve just turned my pages
Of an old fashioned murder and sex
Given glances to fellow travellers
To put stop to their whispers and texts
I’m from the time of Agatha Christie
The days when things were quite still
If you don’t put down your technology now
Then with this gun I shall have to kill
An impromptu bout of sex
Next to the last revolution of the washing machine
After the final kiss
It’s a hunt round the house for our slippers
Let’s settle down in front of the tv now
Nestled in our respective dressing gowns
A smile on our faces
Sheer love and bliss
My ego needs stroking
I know, I think I’ll tweet
About my deepest feelings, what’s going down.
That’s what the public think
Of their own cares and discoveries,
No doubt they’ll think I’ll care.
Must switch off the button now
I don’t, after all, wish to share.