Accent - This is the BBC

I will always remember moving from just outside Liverpool to Blackpool at the age of eleven. I hadn't realised  that I had a scouse accent until my first day at an all girl's Grammar school. It seemed that everyone else understood one another but I was a bit of an outsider - that was until I sang. Like many people with regional accents, mine didn't transport into my singing voice and I passed the audition for the school choir. 

Gradually my accent dissipated only to be replaced with that of my peer group and my speech acquired the same habits too. I was born in Blackpool and now I felt that I belonged. All the school mistresses spoke using Received Pronunciation - The Queen's English - just like every news presenter on the  BBC. In the 1970s very few voices on the TV had regional accents but more recently that has begun to change. 

Welsh newscasters, Scottish political commentators and weather presenters regularly appear on the BBC. Northern Irish chat show hosts and talent show presenters seem popular but according to several surveys, Liverpudlian, Mancunian and Bristolian accents don't resonate with the British public, however we do enjoy listening to voices from the North East. Many years ago, I remember hearing the black comedian, Charlie Williams for the first time. He had a broad Yorkshire accent and he was so funny. 

With the advent of The Only Way is Essex and a multitude of reality TV shows, our younger generation has been infected with 'Estuary English', a strange accent, originating along the Thames estuary. With this trend, luscious 'l' sounds have been replaced with 'w's, 't' sounds have acquired a glottal stop, as in Ga'wick and yod coalescence that alters the first part of a word such as Tuesday to a 'ch' sound. Overall it just isn't cricket. 

The subtle Scottish accent of James Bond actor, Sean Connery has proved to be a delight to the viewing public's ear, whereas Liverpool comedian Lily Savage's accent is unpopular. The harsh Northern Irish accent of Ian Paisley is a definite no-no too. Personally, I really don't like the Australian accent and I am not fond of a South African accent that sounds as if it is uttered through gritted teeth. My favourite comedian was the late, great Dave Allen and it was probably his lovely Northern Irish lilt that got me hooked.   

I have been so busy lately I haven't found time to write a poem. I would love to start up a conversation about accents. Perhaps you could share a comment below. 

Thanks for reading. Adele

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The Greatest Dancer - My Top Ten

I decided that the best way to tackle this week's theme is to give you an insight into who I think are the best ten dancers ever. As a professional dancer myself it was quite a challenge to limit myself to just ten given that there are so many different genres of dance to select from. I have done my best to choose and present them in the traditional dance style of reverse order beginning with number ten. You will find a mix of  brief  details, you tube links and photographs. The list is purely personal and there may be some inclusions that you have may not have encountered before. Please read, watch and comment if you like. My hope is that my efforts may stimulate vibrant conversation.

10 Mitzi Gaynor

Mitzi's most famous movie role came in the Rogers and Hammerstein musical South Pacific. Bikini clad she strutted her stuff in the memorable 'I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair' and my favourite, 'Honey Bun' which was such a clever routine.

9 Donald  O'Connor

His face and name may not be familiar to many of you but if I tell you that he was the funny man in he classic movie Singing in the Rain where he performed a standout  performance with his routine, Make 'em Laugh. Just follow the link below and enjoy the show. 

8 Liza Minnelli

The daughter of  Judy Garland was always destined for the stage. Wasn't she born in a trunk in a theatre? Liza with a zee, rose to fame through her performance in the movie Cabaret. Not the most attractive girl but boy could she sing and dance. Set in pre-war Berlin, the story highlighted the grotesque nature of entertainment at a time when The Nazi party first came to power in Germany. It is a great watch with several memorable numbers featuring Miss Minnelli as Sally Bowles

Watch her reprise her award winning performance in Cabaret by clicking on the link. 

7 Michael Jackson

What a phenomenon this young man was. I first saw his exceptional Thriller video in a night club in Blackpool in 1983 and we were all copying the routine. 

Michael was born into an African American family of five boys and two girls. I remember his first hit Rockin Robin. He was such a cutie but it was his incredible dancing that propelled him to super stardom. 

 

6 Cyd Charisse

She reputedly had the longest legs in the business.  During her career, Cyd partnered many of the best male dancers, including a memorable routine with Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain. 

Click on the link to see this incredible routine.

5 Juliet Prowse

For those of you unfamiliar with the name or the 1960 Cole Porter movie Can Can, I thoroughly recommend  that you get a copy or watch  it soon. It is a real romp set in Paris at the turn of the 20th century. The costumes and songs are fantastic - but oh the dancing - it will just blow you away. 

The finale can can performance feature both Juliet and one of the stars of the show, Shirley MacLaine who was a terrific dancer but surpassed by Prowse. She was simply sensational. She starred on Broadway as Mame.

Follow the link to see the Can Can finale. 

4 Sutton Foster

This tap dancer is a genius. Watching her perform in a live stream of Anything Goes at the cinema a few years ago was the first time I have ever cried with joy in  public.  The final dance routine errupted on stage into a cacophony of  wonderful tapping, singing and amazing timing. The ovation in the theatre expanded into the cinema.  Sutton's perfomance is a triumph. The show is well worth watching. If it ever comes to a UK theatre, I will be first in the queue for a ticket. 

Some of cast performed at the Toni awards and you can see this shortened version by clicking on the link. 

3 Dame Margot Fonteyn 

Royal Ballet Prima Ballerina Assoluta Margot Fonteyn (1919–91) was an iconic figure in British ballet. With Ninette deValois and Frederick Ashton she was instrumental in shaping the Company, and was particularly renowned for her performances in the formal classics and as a muse for Frederick Ashton.

Many of her most loved roles were performed with Rudolph Nureyev. See her here in Rose Adagio from Sleeping Beauty.  

2 Gene Kelly

Genius is the only way to describe the prowess of Gene Kelly when dancing. The Hollywood movie star danced his way into our hearts in such musical classics as \on the \town, An American in Paris and of course the enormous hit musical, Singing in the Rain. The umbrella scene must be the most watched dance extract of all time. You can watch it here. Go on my friend, spoil yourself.

1 Michael Flatley

Well at last we come to the climax of my list of the top ten greatest dancers. Having seen the man storm the stage in Manchester in Lord of the Dance for my 40th birthday treat, there was never any doubt that he would be my number one. The man is a giant in the world of dance. He created a worldwide phenomenon from Irish dancing. He choregraphed and performed in Riverdance, Lord of the Dance, Feet of Flames and Celtic Tiger Live.  What an incredible repertoire. There can be only one and that one reigns supreme. He is simply the greatest dancer. 

You can see the maestro perform in Riverdance here. 

No poem today - I hope that you enjoyed the blog. If you did please leave a comment.

Thanks for reading. Keep dancing. Adele 

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Birdsong

Anyone who knows me well, will also know how much I love my visiting birds. I have a robin who has almost become a pet this winter. He flies to my small walled garden when called and often alights really close to me when I venture out with dried mealworms. For almost a week, he went missing and I was distraught imagining a cat cruelly ending his life too soon. Sheer delight filled my heart on his return and touch wood, he has visited every morning since. Phew!

This weekend will see avid birdwatchers venture out to participate in the Great Garden Birdwatch. The count when collated provides vital information about indigenous populations and winter migrants. I love taking part and if the weather permits I will go to our local park to record numbers of woodpeckers, nuthatches and perhaps a blackcap or goldcrest.

I urge you to get out there with your field glasses and notepads. Your participation is a valuable contribution to scientific knowledge. A link for the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch is here. https://www.rspb.org.uk/whats-happening/big-garden-birdwatch.

Birdsong morning

As the dawn lifts the shroud of darkness
the pale sky is charged with legions
row upon row
heading to the killing fields
an airborne whoosh
then another and another.

A shake of the worm bag
elicits a flash of red
as a robin alights on the fence
and two blackbirds
arrive on the rooftop.

Soon the titter of a wren
echoes in the alleyway
and shuffle-wing shares the spoils
the neighbour has put out
for all comers.

The winter-clad clematis
offers cover while the starlings
clamour to devour
the remnants of the feast
chattering and chunnering.

A flight-born chirrup chirrup
heralds the passage
of the grey wagtail
who sometimes quaffs
from the flat roof next door.

My day starts with the joy
of morning birdsong.

Thamk you for reading, watching and counting. 

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Solitaire

When I consider the word 'solitaire' I remember a small wooden board, filled with indentations and small marbles. Although I am aware of this, I have no clue how the game is played. I know how to play solitaire with playing cards, I have played it for many hours on computer - it is extremely compelling - as is Scrabble - but that's a different story.

Thinking about writing this week's blog I toyed with the idea of writing about loneliness. I know that is reaching epidemic levels especially among the elderly and various organisations, including Age UK who have opened a helpline and friendship call scheme for the elderly and housebound. I am very annoyed by automated checkouts in the supermarkets - if you are elderly or disabled and make one shopping trip a week, how upsetting must it be if no-one communicates with you. A machine can't say 'Hello' or 'How are you?' and that interpersonal interaction can be so important. I was deleted to hear that Booths are removing their automated tills because people don't like them. Amen to that!

Thinking about loneliness lead me to consider the experience of 'the long distance runner' - ha ha! That led me to a remarkable event of the 1960s that sticks out in my then, young memories. The experience of a remarkable man called Sir Francis Chichester.

In 1958, Chichester was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. (This might have been a misdiagnosis; David Lewis, a London doctor, who competed against Chichester in the first solo trans-Atlantic race, reviewed his case and called Chichester's abnormality a "lung abscess".) His wife Sheila put him on a strict vegetarian diet (now considered to be a macrobiotic diet) and his cancer went into remission. Chichester then turned to long-distance yachting.

In 1960, he entered and won the first Single-Handed Trans-Atlantic Race, which had been founded by 'Blondie' Hasler in the 40 foot ocean racing yawl Gipsy Moth III. He came second in the second race four years later.

On 27 August 1966 Chichester sailed his ketch Gipsy Moth IV from Plymouth in the United Kingdom and returned there after 226 days of sailing on 28 May 1967, having circumnavigated the globe, with one stop (in Sydney). By doing so, he became the first person to achieve a true circumnavigation of the world solo from West to East via the great Capes. The voyage was also a race against the clock, as Chichester wanted to beat the typical times achieved by the fastest fully crewed clipper ships during the heyday of commercial sail in the 19th century. His global voyage was the first to be commercially sponsored, with the International Wool Secretariat's Woolmark featured on the bows of Gipsy Moth IV and Chichester's baseball cap.

Can you imagine the experience he endured. The world's oceans can be a cruel master but the solitude must be the worst thing by far. During lockdown, we all, especially those with immune deficiencies, had a taste of enforced solitude - but 226 days is an incredibly long spell. I cannot imagine it - I would go completely doolally.

Solitaire

I embark in Gypsy Moth IV and sail to the Canaries,
there to catch the South Trades towards the Caribbean.
I fight the storms that lurch and toss me
around the Cape of Good Hope
then nip into port in Sydney for provisions
departing for South China seas
from Indonesia to Cape Horn.
I'm almost home now
longing for conversation
the companionship of friends.

Thank you for reading. Adele

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Celestial Bodies - Here Comes The Sun

Throughout our history, this majestic wonder has been a constant source of comfort, awe and worship but our understanding of the Sun has developed slowly. For centuries, the finest scientific minds sought to understand how it created a seemingly endless amount of heat and energy, as recently as the nineteenth century, science had little knowledge of what the sun was made of, where it had come from or the secret of its phenomenal power. It has existed for five billion years. 

Every second. the Sun produces 400 million, million, million. million watts of power. That is a million times the power consumption of The USA every year, radiated in one second. No wonder that solar power is seen as a viable solution to the energy crisis. 

As with every other star, the Sun was born from giant clouds of molecular dust and gas, it developed into a spinning ball if hot gas that is heated by a thermonuclear reaction at its core. The Universe began 13.5 billion years ago in The Big Bang. In the first instant, it was incredibly hot and dense but it cooled very quickly. After only one second, it was cool enough for the UP and Down quarks to stick together into protons and neutrons. 

The hydrogen nucleus is the simplest in nature. consisting of a single proton, Helium is the next simplest, built of two protons and one or two neutrons. Then comes lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen oxygen and so on, each with one more proton and accompanying neutrons. This process of sticking more and more protons and neutrons together to form the chemical elements is called nuclear fusion. 

Protons carry a positive electric charge which means they are repelled when in close contact. If they can be forced close enough together, they can overcome this repellent force. Heat is the solution to this. For the first few moments in the life of the Universe, all of space was filled with particles that were hot enough to smash together and fuse. Around ten minutes after the Big Bang, the Universe had cooled down enough for fusion to cease.  At that time the cosmos was 75% hydrogen and 25% helium, with very small traces of lithium. Fusion did not reappear until the first stars were born, a few hundred million years later.

At the end of their life, stars run out of hydrogen fuel in their cores and more complex fusion reactions occur. Heavier elements are produced, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, the elements of life. Every element in the Universe today was fused together from the primordial hydrogen and helium left over from the Big Bang. 

Eventually, as with all stars, the Sun's fuel will run out. This will start to reheat the Sun. Our Sun's brightness will increase by a factor of a thousand or more causing it to swell to many times its current size. The surface temperature will fall and its colour will shift towards red. Mercury will be engulfed, As it swells the Sun will stretch out towards Earth's orbit and our prospects are dim. The wonder that has been constant for 10 billion years will end its life as a giant red star. For a brief moment the Sun will be two thousand times as bright as it is now but eventually our star will shed its outer layers and all that will remain is a cooling core or White Dwarf that will glow until the end of time. The light that sustains all life here on Earth will be gone. 

The gas and dust of the dying Sun will drift off into space and in time will form a vast, dark cloud, primed and full of possibility. One day a new star will be born. 

Helios

You began five billion years ago,

your fusion heated protons, 

made them stick together, 

creating oxygen

carbon, nitrogen, 

incubating life on Earth. 

You nurtured us with warmth and light, 

the ancients worshipped you. 

Now our fossil fuels are failing

we turn to you

for solar power 

and future nuclear fusion. 

We are back in the lunar race

to mine helium 3

perhaps there'll be a pipeline 

or tankers to transport it

they say it's safer, cleaner,

a better way to produce our energy.

Thanks for reading. Adele

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The Tudor Court

People of high social standing were expected to attend court and participate as courtiers. Maintaining a position at court was an expensive business, but the rewards were high if you remained among the monarch’s favourites. However, being a Tudor courtier was not always easy, particularly under Henry VIII, who as an older man was notoriously easy to enrage.

The King’s household, the royal court was the political and cultural centre of the nation, and despite the risks, anyone who was anyone wanted to be there. At court, patronage and favour was given to those who pleased the monarch, and taken away from those who did not.

Henry VIII had over sixty homes, but Hampton Court was his favourite. Once he had taken it from Cardinal Wolsey, the King transformed it still further to demonstrate his power and magnificence. He also knew that the palace design had to work practically to feed, accommodate and entertain his vast court of aristocrats and their servants.

The long chains of rooms in the palace, each with a guard on the door, were designed to prevent all but the most important gaining access to the monarch’s private spaces. A courtier’s clothes played a vital role in the guards’ decision: the smarter you looked the closer you got to the King.

The royal family and the court moved around the country, visiting Henry’s grand houses and palaces for a few months, sometimes even a few hours. When the King left Hampton Court he often used the river Thames to get up to London. He and his queen would travel in the royal barge, surrounded by smaller boats with their closest servants on board carrying clothes and personal possessions.

Courtiers would be expected to pack up and follow the royals on horseback, accompanied by their own servants. A constantly shifting court was necessary; to allow the palaces to be cleaned and human waste removed, and to let surrounding land and livestock to be replenished after supplying the voracious demands of the royal court.

A visitor of high rank would expect to pass through the Great Hall into the more exclusive rooms beyond. The sequence of rooms included a Guard Chamber, a Privy or Audience Chamber. The monarch’s most private and heavily guarded rooms lay beyond the grandest of the public rooms. This inner sanctum included an eating room, an inner Privy Chamber, a Withdrawing Room and finally a bedchamber.

Favoured courtiers would be invited to the Withdrawing room. Only they were allowed to see the monarch in a less formal setting, perhaps to play games, listen to music or enjoy conversation.

Political power was concentrated among the men who attended to the King’s needs in the magnificence of the inner Privy Chamber. They enjoyed intimate access to the King, washing and dressing him, even attending to him on the close-stool (lavatory).

Those appointed to high positions in the royal household, and those closest to the king, were male. Depending on their social status, female courtiers worked in the queen’s household, for example as ladies-in-waiting, or women of the bedchamber.

As part of court ‘business’, fathers from the most powerful families in the land sought positions for their unmarried daughters. It was an ideal place for them to meet a wealthy husband and make alliances between families, and while the rewards were high, so were the risks.

These young women were sometimes formally educated, but it was their social skills that put them most in demand at court entertainments such as dances and masques. Here, they might net an even bigger, if more treacherous, prize.

To manage so many people at court required huge organisation. Two departments controlled most of the functions at the palace. The Lord Chamberlain’s department was responsible for the running of the staterooms, where important people gathered and business was conducted. The Lord Steward’s department looked after the ‘below stairs’ areas of the palace such as the kitchens.

A strict set of rules, the ‘Eltham Ordinances', (a series of regulations drawn up for the royal household in 1526) governed behaviour and conduct at court. In addition, guidelines known as ‘Bouche of Court’ outlined what a courtier could expect to receive when attending the King. Each courtier was entitled to free food and lodgings of varying degrees of luxury, as an expression of the monarch’s wealth and magnificence. A ration of candles, wine and beer were also provided free.

Hampton Court was Henry VIII’s pleasure palace, which he turned into a fabulous centre of entertaining with feasting, jousting and hunting. Jousting was the most prestigious sport in Tudor England. Henry had a huge tiltyard, the equivalent of a modern-day sports stadium, built at Hampton Court. As a young man, the King was fearless, and he and his closest courtiers would enjoy competing with each other, while the ladies of the court looked on.

As a young, fit man Henry was famously sports-mad, as were many of highest- ranking courtiers, among them his close friends. The King and his favourite courtiers would escape royal duties take off for a day’s hunting, or distract themselves with hawking, or by playing tennis. Gambling was also popular; the King thought nothing of losing hundreds of pounds to his courtiers by betting on tennis matches and dice.

Music and musicians constantly filled Tudor palaces, particularly at the pleasure palace of Hampton Court. Dancing and masque were also key entertainments that the King and his court enjoyed. Henry himself was a talented composer and performer, and being able to play an instrument or sing was considered a very desirable attribute for a courtier.

Then, of course, there were matters of the heart.

The Six Clerihews of Henry VIII

Catherine of Aragon
failed to give her King a son
Rome said no to a divorce
and set the church on a different course.

Social climber Anne Boleyn
soon committed the ultimate sin
Inevitably she lost her head
for sleeping in another’s bed.

Jayne Seymour
Henry was said to love and adore
Though all England shared their joy
she died giving birth to a baby boy,

Anne of Cleves
A political trick up Henry’s sleeves
She was notably ugly as hell
soon he divorced her as well

Catherine Howard
Branded a traitorous coward
The scandal made Henry see red
so he quickly said, “Off with her head.”

Catherine Parr
Wife most homely by far
defeated the odds when he died
of the six, only she had survived.

Thanks for reading. Adele

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Willow Bark to Wonder Drug

The story of the discovery of aspirin stretches back more than 3500 years to when bark from the willow tree was used as a pain reliever and antipyretic. It involves an Oxfordshire clergyman, scientists at a German dye manufacturer, a Nobel Prize-winning discovery and a series of pivotal clinical trials. Aspirin is now the most commonly used drug in the world. Its role in preventing cardiovascular and cerebrovascular disease has been revolutionary and one of the biggest pharmaceutical success stories of the last century.

Evidence for this early use of willow as an analgesic and antipyretic first surfaced in 1862. Edwin Smith (1822–1906), an American trader living in Cairo purchased a pair of ancient documents, the provenance of which was unknown. These scrolls dated back to around 1500 BC and are amongst the most important historical documents in medicine. One of these is now known as the Edwin Smith Surgical Papyrus and details 48 surgical cases and their management. The other is now known as the Ebers Papyrus. This was an Egyptian record of around 160 herbal and vegetable remedies. One of these is the first written record of the use of tjeret or salix (now known as willow) for treatment of non-specific pains. This herbal knowledge was passed on as empires rose and fell. The use of willow bark for pain relief continued through ancient Greece, where it was recommended by Hippocrates to relieve the pain of childbirth, through to Roman times, when its use was recorded by Pliny the Elder.

Many traditional therapies were used for pain relief over the following centuries but were not studied systematically. The study of natural remedies received a boost with the discovery that the bark of the cinchona tree had fever-relieving properties. This bark was imported at great expense from South America. Although it was unclear at the time, we now know that cinchona is a source of quinine, the first treatment for malaria. It was with this background that in 1763 the Reverend Edward Stone, an Oxfordshire clergyman and fellow of Wadham College at the University of Oxford, investigated the use of willow bark. His letter to the president of the Royal Society outlining his findings survives today. He described using willow bark as a treatment for aguish (fever and shivering): ‘There is a bark of an Englifh tree that, which I have found by experience to be a powerful aftringent, and very efficacious in curing aguifh and intermitting diforders’. Reverend Stone left the willow bark to dry on the outside of a baker's oven for 3 months then pounded and sifted it into a powder. He reported: ‘It hath been given I believe to fifty perfons, and never failed in the cure, except in a few autumual and quartun agues, with which the patients have been long and feverely afflicted’. This letter is likely to be the driving force behind the use of willow bark to treat fevers by many physicians of the time.

The active ingredient in willow bark was not discovered until 1828 when Johann Buchner first refined willow bark into yellow crystals and named it Salicin (after Salix, the genus of the willow tree). In 1829 the process was further refined by Pierre-Joseph Leroux in France and taken a step further in 1838 when Raffaele Piria produced a stronger compound from the crystals isolated from willow bark, which he named salicylic acid.

Since then chemists have given us paracetamol, ibuprofen and clopidogrel. Asprin has been scientifically proven to prevent the development of platelets that can cause Alzheimers. It is truly a wonder drug and because of this we must reconsider our exploitation of rainforest. As many tree species become endangered or indeed extinct, how many scientific discoveries will be lost to us. Saving trees may not only save the lives of many endangered animal species but may hold the answer to finding a cure for cancer or other devastating diseases.

Ode to a Tree 

I bathe in your shadow,

striped by filtered light,

the gentle breeze bending as it curves around us.

A strange couple,

me,  just seven and a half,

 you more than a century.

What knowledge

passes from one to the other?

A child and tree.

Thanks for reading. Adele

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A favourite painting

I have always been interested in the arts - especially theatre and dance. I dedicated over twenty years into moving my own body to music.  When working in London, I sometimes went to The National Portrait Gallery. I found the experience surprisingly unmoving. Faces from throughout history stared back at me but had little effect. 

When a visit to the cinema in 2003 introduced me to Vermeer, I was entranced by his 'Girl with a Pearl Earring'. If you had asked me then which was a favourite painting, that would have been my response. 

A trip to Liverpool in 2015 changed all that. There was a Jackson Pollock exhibition at Tate Liverpool and we went along. At first I wasn't at all sure about modern art.  In fact I wasn't sure about Pollock either.  That was until I moved into a room dominated by his huge canvas 'Summertime.'

As I looked at the canvas, I was filled with music. It seemed to be dancing - and I began to dance too - right there on the parquet floor of the gallery. A curator saw me and laughed. It was a truly moving experience.  The repeating patterns in the painting seemed like choreography. How thrilling to be so affected by an artwork that it makes you dance. 

Summertime: Number 9A by Jackson Pollock, 1948

Jackson

You used your 

whole body
to create art.
You danced as
you dripped
and splashed
your energy
onto canvas.
I was still life
until I felt it leap
and suddenly
I danced too
filled with the joy
of Summertime.

Thanks for reading. Adele 

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Shape shifters

Our myths and legends are filled with tales of shape-shifting, fantastical creatures, from vampires who change into bats and hunan beings who morph into werewolves under the influence of a full moon.  Naturally, most shape-shifting creatures are pure fiction, however, I recently encountered twelve in an ordinary setting.  

Shape-shifters

Twelve of them walk into the room
fuss around boxes
assemble workspaces.
I am seated, draped
on a chez long as they
circle around me poised to strike.

The small silver haired man
shape-shifts into a hawk
perched on the back of a chair.
His steely eyes meet mine
then his intense stare
scans my legs, my hands.

The secretary bird
peers around her easel
measuring me up with a ruler
first vertical, then horizonal.

The big black bear
is a little too close
he growls and sighs
his hot breath brushing my skin.

The crane stands side on
and struts her left eye droops
half closed.

The elephant in the room
stands at the back
rooting in a plastic bag.

A badger scrapes among
her pastels taking time
to settle until she finds
the perfect tone.

The jackdaw sees
in monochrome
the peacock in colour.

The fox holds up a pencil
then disappears behind his screen
finally dipping his brush
into paint.

I sit, scrutinized stalked by
these creatures.

After a while the elephant
leaves the room.

Then when time is up
the others shape shift
back into human form
put on coats
then depart clutching
their portraits of me.

Thank you for reading. Adele

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Shadows

As a child, I would often be entertained at bedtime by my Dad or sister. They would make shadow creatures on the wall using the bedside lamp. There were birds and butterflies, sometimes a deer or a frog. All very interesting to a six year old child. 

As you get older, perhaps like me, your older, mischievous brothers tell you that there are monsters under the bed or that they hide in the wardrobe. If, like me, you grow up enjoying being 'spooked', you evolve into an adult who enjoys watching paranormal investigators on dubious TV channels. One show called Ghost Adventures features a team  of paranormal investigators fronted by the ebullient Zac Bagans. The team spend the night 'locked down' in reputedly haunted locations. Some of the shows are really compelling, many feature the appearance of so called 'shadow figures'.

Other paranormal shows claim to have captured images of these phenomena on camera - sometimes they simply take the form of dark masses, in other sightings they appear in human form, sometimes moving, sometimes still. Paranormal investigators often describe these shadow figures as malevolent. Who knows the truth? I certainly wouldn't like to encounter one. I have seen two spectres, on two random occasions, but that is for another blog. This claims to be a true photographic capture. 

I danced professionally in my earlier life and one of my favourite Latin dances is the Paso Doble. The dance signifies the bullfight. The man is the matador, the woman is the cape. The dance is usually set to Spanish music in four-four time, sometimes with increasing tempo and intensity. The man parades, swirling 'the cape' to simulate the moves of the matador. It is an exciting dance.  At the climax of a bullfight the matador kills the bull with his sword. Although bloodthirsty, in Spain bulflights command huge spectator following, similar to football.

In my poem, I suggest a slightly more sinister plot.

Paso Deadly

He stands shapeless, hid in shadow
arms behind him, foot on wall
cap is lowered, features covered
body language – don’t stop at all.

Glance is guarded, walking quickly
bag clutched tightly under arm
heel tips echo, steel on cobble
confident there is no harm.

Then her heel sticks in a crevice
falters and he lifts one eye,
suddenly he steps out strongly
he won’t let her walk on by.

One stride, stop, another longer
leaping forward, grabs her wrist
reels her to him, arm encircles
though she tries she can’t resist.

Stalker and reluctant captive
underneath the streetlight glare
mirroring each other’s movements
transfixed in hypnotic stare.

Steadily the tempo quickens
synchronising syncopation
perfect timing, pace increasing
step by step, no hesitation.

Tap step tap tap, heel tap toe tap
step tap tap. toe step tap toe
suddenly she senses danger,
tightens up, it’s time to go.

Instantly his hold is tighter
pulses racing, fights her will.
Through his all-consuming motion
she surrenders to the thrill.

Now he guides her from the spotlight
into darker, shadowed space
as she sees the bright blade flashing
desperation clouds her face.

Then he lunges, as he plunges
deep incision to her breast
in her scream, her dream of passion
crashes to eternal rest.

So begins his solo movement
heels tap victory on stone
as her body lays discarded
he dances for himself alone.

Silly girl – she should have known!

 Don't have nightmares. Thanks for reading. Adele

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Generosity -

Sometimes on social media, I read stories of generosity and the generous person is often unknown to the recipient.  Perhaps a mother with a child in a pushchair is at the check-out and realises that they cannot afford all their items, when a stranger pays for them. Sometimes it is a young person who stops their own journey to help an older person change a flat tyre. 

I want to tell you about one extraordinary act of generosity - a genuine act of selflessness by my own father. In the late sixties to the mid-seventies, my Dad was landlord of The Eagle and Child at Weeton, a 16th century coaching inn. Weeton was a small village and everyone knew everyone else.  Many villagers worked part-time for Dad including 'Old Bert' who helped maintain the grounds.  Bert was a bit smelly, his clothes were badly worn, he always tied string round his trouser legs and wore a flat cap. 

Traditionally on Christmas Day, the pub was closed in the evening, so Christmas lunch was an extended family affair. While Dad was behind the bar and Mum did the festive cooking, I was busy laying the grand table in the pub dining room. Dad called me over and said that he had forgotten to pay Bert's wages and he handed me a wage packet, asking me to deliver it to his house.

It was only a quick jog to Bert's council house. When I arrived, he opened  the door, didn't speak and went straight back to his own small table. He was keen to finish eating a bowl of hot soup. The day was very cold and yet there was no fire in the grate. Eventually he explained that his wife Winnie, who had mental health problems was back 'in Wesham'.  I gave him the wage packet and left. 

When I arrived back, Dad was just getting ready to close the bar. I told him about the sorry state in which I found the old man. He asked me to tell Mum to wait a while before she served lunch, then he disappeared out of the front door.  Fifteen minutes later, he was back with Bert in tow and instructed me to set a place for him at the Christmas table.

This was so typical of Dad but it really affected me and tears well in my eyes as I remember my loving, generous father who we lost in 1998 aged 83 - far too soon. 

'Old Bert'

Such a forlorn figure
sitting here in your cold house,
no fire in the grate.
trying to keep warm
with nothing but
a bowl of soup.

But now you are brought
to share our Christmas fayre
still wearing hobnail boots,
and threadbare, yellowed shirt.
You whiff a bit
but love has no sense of smell.

My very own Father Christmas
brings you the gift of cheer.
You eat heartily,
then touch the peak
of your flat cap to my Mum
and take your leave.

Thanks for reading, Adele

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Journey

Travel is exciting. The processes we go through when planning, packing and setting off on a journey is all part of the ritual. How many outfits to take, what time to set off for a timeous arrival at check in. How many books to take - all part of the preparation for an adventure. My first couple of trips as a youngster were punctuated by travel sickness. Travelling through Wales on the backseat of a coach in the early sixties proved too much for my stomach. Similarly, my first flight on a BAC111 to Jersey from the then Speke airport also set me off. I am relieved to say that I improved with time.

My longest flight came in 2000 when I took my two children on a visit to my cousin in South Africa. Fourteen hours - far too long really but we all coped well. Unfortunately we had a four hour stop-over at Paris Charles De Gaulle, with a courtesy meal that affected my son. On arrival he had food poisoning from some less than fresh crevettes and spent three days very sick until we purchased some suppositories that sorted him out. 

The South African adventure was fantastic. We spent three days at the Pilanesberg game reserve, having close encounters with hippos, giraffes and twin cheetah cubs. We barbequed, swam in the Indian Ocean at Umhlanga near Durban and met real Zulu tribesmen and women who performed a dance in full costume on the lawn in front of our accommodation there. 

It was the first of many adventures with the kids. Two years later we headed off to Egypt. The Valley of the Kings, Temple of Luxor, Temple of Karnak,  Temple of Philae and the Aswan Dam. I liked to educate them through travel. They longed for a simple beach holiday but I am not that kind of Mum. 

The next trip was to Sorrento on the Amalfi Coast with visits to Pompeii and Positano. I love Italy. My parents took me to Venice where I returned on honeymoon. We went to the Lido and a gondolier lifted me on his back and ran with me across St Mark's Square. My new husband was flabbergasted and asked. "Where do you know him from?" Silly man - but it was so exciting!

My more recent trips have been without the kids in the company of the man in my life. We have been to many of the Greek Islands in the last decade. We began in Kefalonia, then Crete, my favourite. As you can already tell, I am a big history buff. The Homer poem about the island of Crete caught my imagination in grammar school and was always a future destination. I was not disappointed - the museum at Heraklion was incredible.  The ancient city of Knossos, although rebuilt in simulation, was incredible. 

I loved the beauty of the harbour in Kos and the ruins in Rhodes. Greece is so lovely. The weather is usually hot but not too humid, the food is lovely and there is so much to see. No doubt we will return - Covid put the blockers on most foreign travel but I still have long list of destinations to tick off. 

Journey

It’s a cliché I hear,
‘travel broadens the mind’
but I’m happy to know
that our travels abroad
enhanced our education.
The journey often long,
patience tested,
rewarded on arrival
at our far-flung destination.

What we have experienced.
the things we have learned,
the grandeur, the majesty
of ancient civilisation,
the diversity of people,
the wonders of creation.
Looking outwards
to understand
the global situation.

To those who do not travel
who stay insular at home
I recommend a journey
to Paris or to Rome.
just to breathe another’s air
walk in another’s shoes,
A single step begins
a journey to your own imagination.

Spot press - Baby arrived this morning

Thanks for reading. Adele

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Four legs good - Come on Pearl

I am getting very excited! For some weeks now I have been following the adventures of a four-legged friend. Pearl is a beautiful rescue donkey who  has been restored to health from the sad, emaciated creature who was found in a kill pen some months ago. Her story seems unremarkable - many donkeys are rescued and given sanctuary every year. Pearl is very special though because she is in fact an eight-legged donkey.  Her extented belly reveals that Pearl is pregnant. 

Her Facebook feed chronicles her daily exploits and although the usual incubation period for a donkey is around 11 months, it is likely that her poor physical state during the first few months of her gestation may extend that to up to 14 months.  I watch her progress each day, keenly awaiting the arrival of her foal. I wonder what her baby's name will be.  Pearl is a pale grey donkey with darker patches on her back. If you would like to follow her progress just go to facebook/ Peace for Ponies. 

I love horses too, especially the racehorse variety - glorious Arab thoroughbreds. I was lucky enough to attend the Cheltenham Festival in the 1980s on Gold Cup Day as a guest of Bass Leisure. I was cautious, placing only small, eachway bets on the first few races but won on most of them.  Towards the end of the day, we walked to the paddock to watch the parade for the final event. Suddenly a beautiful horse broke ranks and walked staight towards me. It pushed its nose directly into my face. I noted the number on its blanket and went all in, putting all my days winnings on the nose.  With Jonjoe O'Neil on board, it romped home and I had a really great win. 

Several years ago. I took my children to a travellng show called Spirit of the Horse. It was a wonderful display of dancing horses.

Equilibrium

Chestnut and cream,

linear, lean,
you canter around the sand filled ring,
in harmonious step.
Legs beat in unison
As energy ripples from neck to tail
you flick and show delightful control.

Soft flowing mane sweeps as you
turn natural, switch reverse
then rearing on muscular haunches
to walk as a ballerina,
so balanced, so poised.
Perfection in motion, keeping rhythm and time
unbridled power and gentle music meld.

Later when I venture close.
you bow your head to nuzzle nose to mine
to meet my eyes with deep intelligence.
I feel the reins on my spirit release
and in that fleeting moment
it too runs free.

Thanks for reading. Adele

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Estuary - Walking on Wyre

Several years ago Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society were fortunate to receive funding from Arts Council England for a project to create a poetry map of the area along the River Wyre.  We took groups of writers on walks along shortish sections of The Wyre Way, a public footpath that meanders along the river bank from Scorton to Fleetwood, detouring in land and passing through Cleveleys at the coast.

We recruited the expertise of several established poets to conduct writing workshops at six strategic stages along the route. Several weeks later, the map was published and  participants invited to perform their work at both the launch event and another event during Blackpool's Wordpool festival.

We are very proud of the project, named Walking on Wyre, and the map which is still available on request. It was a memorable experience, many of those published had never before seen their work in print. 

The first writing workshop, at Stanah on the Wyre Estuary, was hosted by the wonderful Sarah Hymas who lives close to the Lune estuary and has written extensively about this ever-changing geographic feature.  She was commissioned to write her own poem for the publication.  The poem that follows was my own contribution to this interesting and constructive part of the journey. 

Sampher

Full-bodied women 

               pickled, ankle-deep in brine,

enticed by salty succulents,

                along the tide line.

 

Red-legged terns

punctuate pale terracotta

searching for crustaceans,

            sand dancing,

reflected in mirror pools.

 

Keepers of the drowning flats,

they rise to sky

with soulful cries 

as sea kissed river returns .

Thanks for reading. Adele

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Say It With Flowers

My father was a flamboyant gardener.  When he was landlord at The Eagle and Child, he won Best Kept Pub in Lancashire several times.  He had wonderful climbing roses, draped over rustic fencing that he constructed himself. In the foreground, rows of bright red geraniums, interspaced with blue lobelia and white allysum. So patriotic.

 

When he and Mum retired, they moved several times before settling in a small terraced house with a walled garden. He wasted no time - whitewashed the walls, built trellis and planted his beloved roses. He also planted a Clematis Montana and within a couple of yeas it was producing a mass of glorious pink blooms. 

Dad died in 1998 and my Mum remained in the little house until she reached the grand old age of 97. She left the house to me and although the roses have mostly gone to wood, the clematis continues to thrive. This year it has produced at least 3,000 flowers and came into full bloom on 1st May, which coincidentally is the date Dad died. Perhaps it isn't a coincidence at all. We have a day off to remember him and a flamboyant display to celebrate his life. 

Le Bal des Fleurs

When Rhododendron fall to seed,
peonies droop their heavy, windswept heads,
the daffodils are silent for another year
and nature holds her breath.

Almost unnoticed, flecks of burgundy appear,
jasmine stars light up the backdrop fence
and Summer spills onto the stage
with honeysuckle bursting into bloom.

The Corps de Ballet, dance in from the wings,
prance and plié to the warm breeze suite,
and quickly spread to fill the border space.
A rush of tutus: pure white marguerite.

Delphinium in fifty shades of blue,
waltz with lupins dipped in dew.
interlacing gossamer gypsophila,
shimmers in the sunlight beams.

Climbing peace with lemon tips,
cascading pastel limbs from rustic arch
fragrance the air. In the footlights,
a parade of scarlet: Geraniums stand guard.

Scented stocks collect in shady corners,
wearing vibrant pink and lilac frocks.
Gladiolas splay their spectral heads:
Yellow, through to flaming reds.

Now the colour reaches a crescendo.
Against the turquoise, cloudless sky,
baskets overflow, mood indigo
while fuchsia ballerinas pirouette.

As finale, arum lilies centre stage,
perform a gentle Pas des Deux,
taking bows as dusky curtain falls,
first him, then her.

Thanks for reading. Adele

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Days That Changed The World - Operation Dynamo

The Second World War had begun in western Europe on 1 September 1939, when Germany invaded Poland. In Belgium and France there was a long winter of waiting as German and Allied forces, including the British Expeditionary Force (BEF), faced each other along the border defences.

Then on 10 May 1940, two German armies moved eastward. A smaller one swept through Holland and Belgium into northern France, drawing the main Allied forces north to meet it. The other, main German force advanced through Luxembourg, broke through the French lines at Sedan, and sliced across northern France to the coast. Moving rapidly with armoured columns, these armies trapped the Allies in an ever-decreasing pocket.

The Germans took Boulogne on 25 May and Calais the next day, leaving Dunkirk as the only viable port from which the BEF, part of the French army and the remains of the Belgian army could escape.

The Allies had to defend a small pocket around Dunkirk that was under constant attack. Many thousands of men were crammed into streets and buildings, and along the beaches – so they were very vulnerable to intense German air attacks and shelling. There was little time to plan and organise an orderly evacuation, and effective means of communication were scarce.

The Germans had put the main docks at Dunkirk – the best place from which to evacuate troops – out of action. The two alternatives – the spindly breakwater, or mole, on the east side of the harbour, and the beaches to the north of the port – were far from ideal. The beaches at Dunkirk shelve gently into the sea. Even at high tide, a destroyer couldn’t approach within a mile of the shore, and troops had to be ferried out in small craft.

Rescue was painfully slow at first – only 8,000 men were rescued on the first day. It took several days for the operation to gather pace.

Operation Dynamo was the rescue operation implemented by the Royal Navy. It was co-ordinated by Vice Admiral Bertram Ramsay and his small team in Dover Castle. There, beneath the fortress, a network of tunnels deep within the cliffs became the nerve centre controlling the evacuation of Allied forces.

From 19 May, realising that rescue by sea would be necessary, Ramsay and his staff at Dover were making plans and arranging for ships to evacuate the British Expeditionary Force. On 26 May they were ordered to put their plans into action.

Dunkirk, and the surrender of France that followed some three weeks later, left Britain isolated, vulnerable and under threat of imminent invasion. The BEF had abandoned or destroyed nearly all its heavy equipment at Dunkirk. Hitler declared the evacuation a decisive victory for Germany.

By rescuing the bulk of the army, in what was the biggest evacuation in military history, Operation Dynamo returned to Britain a priceless asset – most of her trained and experienced troops. If they had been lost, the whole conflict might have taken a very different course. It was a critical moment for Britain in the Second World War.

‘We must be very careful not to assign to this deliverance the attributes of a victory. Wars are not won by evacuations.’ Winston Churchill, 4 June 1940.

The evacuation was publicised as a miracle to boost public morale. The successful rescue, across the seas that stayed unusually calm for nine days, was thereafter referred to as 'the miracle of Dunkirk'.

But as well as this, the terrifying prospect that the depleted British armed forces might have to fight the Germans on home soil caused the nation, galvanised under Winston Churchill, to declare itself entirely not only effectively but perhaps surprisingly, with total confidence in eventual victory. The 'Dunkirk spirit’, reflecting a nation united and working against apparently impossible odds to thwart Hitler's ambitions was born.



Little ships

If Operation Dynamo had failed,
If the British Expeditionary Force
all perished at Dunkirk
then we would have been invaded
and our Jewish citizens
would have died in gas chambers
built on British soil.

Without those rescued soldiers,
D Day would not have happened
nor the liberation of France.
Hitler would have conquered Europe
and we would not be free.
The crews who sailed those little ships
changed the course of history
and awoke The Dunkirk Spirit
that led to victory,

Thanks for reading. Adele

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