written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label flood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flood. Show all posts

Tuesday, 14 September 2021

Olive - Peace Offering


The olive plant, a small, attractive tree cultivated in Mediterranean countries for the fruit and the manufacture of olive oil which is a core ingredient of Mediterranean cuisine. Species of the plant are also grown in South Africa, South America and southern states of USA, Australia and New Zealand. Olives are a popular food and the versatile properties of olive oil make it useful medically and essential in cooking.

I can’t remember the exact circumstances in which I first tried an olive, but I know I was no more than thirteen. The taste was unbearable and I couldn’t remove it from my mouth quick enough. Many years later, I thought they might be more appealing to my mature palate. Nothing had changed.

My husband likes olives. I nearly poisoned him once. I bought one of those prepared chicken and chopped vegetable packs designed for busy people or lazy ones like me. They are ready to drop into a slow cooker with some water and a stock cube and hours later, dinner is ready, voila. This one included olives which I took out straight away before cooking. I didn’t want my chicken casserole tainted. My husband enjoyed the snack. For someone, me, who is meticulous about food safety and food hygiene, this was a really stupid thing to do which went right over my head until it was too late. The olives were with raw chicken. I was horrified at my own carelessness, though, to be fair, he didn’t bat an eyelid either at the time. Fortunately, he was fine, perfectly alright and after a few days I stopped revising symptoms of salmonella et al and beating myself up. I should have offered him an olive branch.

In the Bible, an olive branch, symbol of reconciliation and peace offering was carried to Noah by a dove to show that the flood was over.

A sign of peace it might be, but I don’t have to like the taste of its fruit. Even if the nutrition value was full of everything I need, it would be a no.

With acknowledgement and apologies to Theodor Seuss Geisel, Dr Seuss, for inspiration and whose books and rhymes I have enjoyed to share with lots of children,


I am Pam, Pam I am.
I think I’d like green eggs and ham.
I will not eat an olive.

I will not take it from the jar
I will not taste it from afar,
I will not eat an olive.

Not even on a cocktail stick
I will not try a tiny lick,
I will not eat an olive.

Do not hide it on my pizza
Or tuck it in my fajita,
I will not eat an olive.

I will not choose one from a dish,
I will not have it in a quiche,
I will not eat an olive.

I am Pam, Pam I am,
I would like some salad and spam.
Do not bring me an olive.


PMW 2021

Thanks for reading, Pam x

Tuesday, 5 December 2017

Water - Deluge

23:37:00 Posted by Pam Winning , , , , , , 3 comments

There was more rain than usual on our recent visit to Dumfries and Galloway. It doesn’t bother us, after all, rain away is better than rain at home. Driving along the east side of Galloway Forest, following Loch Ken, we noticed how high the water was, almost lapping the road in low places. The nearby waterfalls rushed faster than ever, tumbling over rocks, cascading between trees and roaring under the bridge into the Loch. It was a beautiful sight in the winter landscape of fading autumn colour and another reason to love spending time in this enchanting area.

Further south, Galgate, Lancaster, Hornby and the Lune Valley were being subjected to serious flooding.  We saw the devastation on the news. Homes and businesses damaged. Roads becoming rivers in a very short time. Pictures closer to home showed Bispham and North Blackpool badly affected, streets we recognised succumbed to the deluge.  I was saddened to learn of someone who lost everything, bungalow damaged, possessions ruined, no insurance but fortunately a caring, loving family to give help and accommodation.

     As I admired the waterfall and the rising loch, unbeknown to me, others not too far away watched in horror as flood water breached their homes.

 My chosen poem,

All Day I Hear the Noise of Waters by James Joyce

 

All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water's
Monotone.

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.

 
Thanks for reading, Pam x