Mood unpredictable as is the weather

First a heatwave P1110348then some cooling down and a poem of course.

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Got so tetchy had to stop checking into facebook, if only to avoid the sin of envy.    So many younger people some of whom I barely know prancing about all over the world and/or in Edinburgh, or at poetry festivals or maybe just having a knees up in Margate!

Having said that two of my grandchildren are currently in Japan. One working there for a year and the other on holiday.

Not sure envy is a sin but vaguely remember it might be. My old Granny was a Methodist, my ex-husband a Catholic and I went to Sunday school when I was a child, so such things do hover about in one’s mind.

But when the sun is shining joy can be found closer to home.

Seeing this bird of prey landing nearby on the Marina, maybe waiting to join in Joshie’s (eldest grandson’s) 24th birthday celebrations at Casa Brasil. They do a super duper buffet and wonderful barbie. Image

Josh was 7 when he helped paint this mural with his cousins in our beach hut in Hove. Recently he secured a big promotion in the pharmacy department of a hospital in Eastbourne. Congratulations Joshie!

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When it was too hot jumped into the sea at Saltdean and later met a beachcomber. I hadn’t seen one since I wrote the following poem ten years ago.


Where a solitary seagull flew
hopeful of an unexpected catch,
an old man moved along
the deserted seashore
glancing upwards
as if to ward off new invaders.

He kept his gaze low,
pausing then pouncing,
hands sifting piles of slippery pebbles,
“Makes a good walk” he called,
digging to retrieve his bounty
two battered 20p coins.

“Like poetry?”
he called. I nodded,
so with one hand cupped
to the side of his mouth,
warding of competition
from the roar os the wind
on the incoming tide,
he launched into a sonnet.

His words swooped, soared,
glided past present reality
and far out to sea.
I clapped respectfully
as he continued to work the beach
as any showman might,
reaping his due rewards for such
a powerful performance.

from my collection ‘Don’t Throw Away the Daisies’

Last week read two new poems and one poem from ‘The Puppeteer’s Daughter’ at The Poetry School in London compered by Paul Crane. There were some brilliant poets and what a lively lot they are on a Thursday afternoon.

An award-winning blog  for a ‘blog that brightens our day’




This entry was posted in Ann's photography, Ann's poems, Brighton - out and about, Cheer yourself up, Life and Times of a New Age Granny, Living by the sea, Out and about in London, Photography and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Mood unpredictable as is the weather

  1. Ann: I absolutely love your Beachcombing poem! It speaks to me. I’m an old beachcomber from the sandy Waitarere beaches of my teen years, when my family owned a beach house there, and every year we’d walk the couple of miles to the Hydrabad wreck of 1878, witnessing the encroachment of the sand dunes year by year, till now there may only be a rusty stain in the sand, as mute evidence of what lies buried below. The Hydrabad was a full rigged ship with three masts, built of iron, and 229 feet long. When I first saw Hydrabad’s rusty-brown beached-whale-like form around 1963, even at low tide she was awash in waves and surf, and when I last saw her, in 1999, only the top of her proud prow stood proud, barely 2 feet tall, like something almost small enough to interest a curious beachcomber not aware of what hides below. Broken amidships after two failed attempts to re-float her, she was abandoned to the waves with their almost mysterious power of dissolving and breaking-up even the toughest of ships. . . . Now I have to be content with the Peter Iredale, which ran ashore in 1906 on Clatsop Spit near Astoria, Oregon, in the Pacific NW. Despite the Peter Iredale being a four-masted steel barque sailing vessel, much larger at 285 feet long, than my beloved Hydrabad, and he is no substitute for the grand sailing ship Hydrabad, who left her imprint on so many of my memories and dreams. Best regards, Alastair R.

  2. Great blog, Ann and a great poem. Sorry that I won’t see you at Swanwick this year. Tx

  3. Alex says:

    Lovely poem Ann. Broiling in the sun in a Italy (where I am living for the next few years) it brought me right back to the briny beach at Saltdean. Almost literally a breath of fresh air!

  4. kay nicole says:

    Yes I feel the same touch of envy when all my loved ones are letting off everywhere, my son doe 4 days in Florida, I Wonder where the awareness of the carbon imprint has gone. FEEL SOMETIMES THAT ALL THE ACTIONS, MARCHES OF THe70,80,9o.have not amounted to much. I guess if we do not truly change ourselfs ffrom the Inside out, then nothing will change much . As the French say,t »tous change, rien change I did have amounted to Nothing.

    Provenance : Courrier pour Windows 10

    De : Ann Perrin Envoyé le :vendredi, 10 août 2018 01:56 À : Objet :[New post] Mood unpredictable as is the weather

    ann perrin posted: “First a heatwave then some cooling down and a poem of course.    Got so tetchy had to stop checking into facebook, if only to avoid the sin of envy.    So many younger people some of whom I barely know prancing about all over the world and/or in Edinbur”

  5. ann perrin says:

    Yes good point. But then many of us were of modest means and jet setting was an idol dream anyway!

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