Mananas!

I'm down in London for a few days: Saturday at the Football Supporters' Summit at Wembley Stadium (talking about 'Change through Scrutiny, Pressure and Protest' on behalf of Blackpool Supporters' Trust), Sunday going to the theatre (The Comedy About A Bank Robbery), Monday celebrating my eldest daughter's 30th birthday.

This week's blog has proved a bit of a banana-skin for me. Adele has written most informatively about the plight of the banana, threatened by a new, more deadly strain of banana wilt (Fusarium fungus); she also quoted the song 'Yes, we have no bananas' - which, incidentally was sung by Blackpool's Atomic Boys in the decade after the second world war.

Kevin Ayers (another recent sad loss to the world of music) punned on that title when he recorded his fine album 'Yes, we have no mananas' - and I sometimes worry that time is running out to make the fundamental changes that are necessary to keep the planet in serviceable shape for our children and generations to come, let alone save the banana from extinction.

But I don't want to get too gloomy, so I'll stick with the slightly Spanish twist this bananablog has taken and give you a poem inspired (if that's the word) by the somewhat unedifying sight of Rafa Nadal munching his way purposefully through multiple bananas during breaks in a tennis match. All tennis players do this. Maria Sharapova always managed the same feat more elegantly!

Bananadal
Dropping into your seat
between sets,
you power through two bananas
with professional resolve,
like there's no manana!

Each practiced unzipping
and purposeful devouring
leaves little time to savour
the texture or the flavour
of the fruit, your fuel.

Precious munching minutes
see you cram in flesh
and masticate fixedly,
mind already on the next game,
gulping down pulp
as you retie your bandana,
swill and swallow.

Hola!
In this no-banana-skin scenario,
you're on your feet,
pacing the clay,
steely of nerve,
ready to blow your opponent away.

Thanks for reading. Have a fruitful week, S :-)