New age science in the
‘sixties and ‘seventies produced
research and discoveries to
kill bad microbes, treat
inherited illnesses so that
we can live into sprightly
old age for many years.
All very exciting to the
new generation born in
soaring birth rates after
WW II repeopling a
depleted world population.
Now the offspring born in
that mating flurry are in their
sixties and seventies well armed
for years to live the latest
research into healthy lifestyles.
Family genes waiting in the wings
have the last laugh as they appear
delivering congestive heart
struggles at 67, anorexia and
depression at 65, diabetes at 70
throughout the family tree.
The old age lottery has
spat out its marbles,
done its worst.
Previously posted April 2017.
Sunday Afternoon Outing
On a sunny Sunday afternoon
the family in their black coats
and white shirts power along
the cliff edges, past the headland
on to the harbour enjoying its
blue green waters, circling past
the harbour beaches, staring at
the people on the sand, in the water,
and in their cars passing the beaches.
As the family enjoy swimming
and diving in the sheltered harbour
more people come on to the sand,
more cars crawl along the roads.
As the family, still in black coats
and white shirts pause to stare
in between diving and splashing.
“There are even more of them
now,” they remark to each other.
“How wonderful to see the orcas
visiting and playing,” say the
people on the harbour beaches.
Previously posted April 2017.
Traffic Overhead
Planes and helicopters chatter
sporadically across out sky
all day in criss cross traffic
while our earthbound traffic
flows on below in our
busy daily business.
Booming helicopter rotors circle
our hospital roof along the road
ferrying in the sick and injured
from busy roads and farmlands
urgently rushing some to the
regional hospital down the coast.
Thrumming engines draw my eyes
up to planes soaring into the
clouds, to planes dipping slowly
in little steps down to the airport.
So much action up in the sky
in which I once joined, visiting
other regions, other countries.
Now I stay home, recalling my
travels over the years, so much
organisation, time in airports.
How did I do it all ? My
next mode of travel will be
on Scotty’s transporter ……
…… Beam me up Scotty !
Previously posted April 2017.
A Night Out
The black and white cat
had a rip in one ear when
he arrived for breakfast this
morning jumping down from
the back fence after a night
out, seemingly unconcerned
and intent on his meal.
During daytime he relaxes
in sunny patches on spare
beds and couches, or curled
up on a dining chair closely
watching his bowl in the laundry
with a clear view through the
kitchen as Mum cooks dinner.
He used to have a paws up
break in Dad’s office at nights
until he set off the burglar
alarm at 2 am giving Mum and
Dad a nasty fright until they saw
him emerge from his cat
door there – now that feline
access is locked at nights.
So after dark he crosses
the lawn, climbs the back
fence to meet neighbourhood
felines. Let’s hope they are not
rough and ready tonight.
Previously posted April 2017.
Picnic In The Park
Under tall spreading trees
Dad places bags to one side
spreads out two rugs. Mum
puts baby brother down with
relief. Turning one in ten days’
time, he’s a strapping lad.
Round the edges of the rugs
his grandparents and great aunts
seat themselves while his older
sisters cross the path, jump into
the broad shallow pool with all
the other lively children.
Meanwhile baby brother who
cried to Mum he was hungry
all the way from the car is
fed well, then given a rusk.
Now he gnaws at his rusk,
and sighs, watches the girls,
wishes he could join them yelling,
running, splashing, playing with
dad in the pool’s excitement.
At home he rolls from his back
to his front to his back, then
right across the living room floor.
Now he drops his rusk, rolls off
his bottom on to his knees,
steadies himself leaning forward
on his hands, rocks to and fro
to cheers from his family.
Won’t be long now ! he’ll soon
be moving along at top speed. !
Previously posted April 2017.
Father And Son
On Christmas Day after
the excitement of presents
Dad lies on the living room floor
on his side, head on hand as
baby brother leans backwards
and forwards rocking to and fro
on his chubby bottom against
Dad’s stomach, absorbed in his
new playskool toy with a
rolling barrel, levers to push.
He thumps on one lever, laughs
at its loud tinging noise, stares
in fascination as the barrel rolls
and rings, thumps the lever again,
murmurs excitedly to himself.
Dad watches as baby brother
plays, grinning broadly at this
intent little fellow, so engrossed
in his fabulous new toy.
Previously posted March 2017.
Cars
Three year old cousin
sat with his Dad on the
living room couch, both
enthralled by the TV
show “Top Gear”. Wow !!
Cars sped crazily through
treacherous terrain, around
lengthy test tracks with
deafening engine noises in
clouds of dust and smoke.
Back at the studio a
beautiful glorious showpiece
of mechanical genius rolled
slowly on stage, a latest
model, magnificent mighty
……….. Lamborghini !!
Dad and son stared and
exclaimed at this amazing
apparition on the screen !!
Rushing to his bedroom the
three year old scrabbled
through dozens of tiny cars
carpeting his bedroom floor.
Back in the living room he
joyfully showed his father
a tiny model of that same
Lamborghini ………….. and
made his father proud !!
Previously posted March 2017.
Goldfinch
Along the front of my flat
flourishes a little garden
with prolific displays of
leaves and flowers on rose
bushes and a lone hebe.
At their feet alyssum and
lobelia cover bare soil with
their leaves and tiny flowers.
Tall straggling cornflower plants
were removed as they died off.
Only those that finished later
were left with their bright
blue flowers still lingering
on by the front door, gradually
dropping petals and seeds to
fill the garden with blue
flowers another day.
In the warm misty morning
rain a goldfinch perches
on withering stems drooping
down to the ground, pecking
out seeds from their faded
dead flower heads.
There go my blue cornflowers !
Previously posted March 2017.
The Doormat
The pristine back porch has
been hosed down along with
the flat’s outer walls. Cobwebs
and bird poo, dust flicked
up by rain, moss spreading up
from the path, all were removed
by the hose’s fierce blast. and
divots of mud and grass from
the teenager’s golf practice
on the back lawn next door.
The back door and its doorstep
and frame are all newly painted
after the hose washed away
Many flakes of their paint
along with all other debris.
On this pristine porch floor
with gleaming surface in the
early morning sun, all cleared
of leaves and cobwebs lies
the clean doormat … criss
crossed by shining snail trails !
Previously posted March 2017.
A Low Maintenance Home
Outside on the driveway hosing
murky windows, scrubbing them
with the yard broom I see
a flaw in my little flat chosen
for tis low maintenance exterior
for my retirement. I want no
more maintenance and renovation.
Inside all is well papered and
painted. Outside brick walls and
metal window frames meet my
needs for a relaxed old age.
I hose dirt off the front door, the
back door, their steps and frames.
Alas paint flakes flow off also.
My low maintenance home sees
me at the paint shop buying paint,
brush, sandpaper, making tape,
all for back and front doors.
I would watch out for this
pitfall when I next move house
but I am not moving house
again unless disaster strikes.
Previously posted March 2017.
lifecameos 