Banana Waffles.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/melody-moezzi/irans-red-tulip-revolutio_b_246949.html

An article in the Huffington Post by Melody Moezzi - explaining the significance of the tradition of martyrdom in Iranian culture.

Neda - 40 days on.

I found out today is the 40th day since Neda Soltani lost her life in Iran.
Neda has become a martyr for the cause of freedom.

Rebecca Elia (@rebeccaelia on Twitter) kindly informed me that the 40th day after the death is very significant as it is the day a martyr is honoured.

I wrote a small poem at the time I found out about Neda's death and that can be read here: http://poems-2-share.blog.co.uk/2009/06/23/for-neda-6369757/

I added a link to that post today to another brave young Iranian lady's website. Her emotion and humanity is clear to see in the CNN interview she has linked to on her home page.

As she says 'this is about people' - which is exactly the feeling that pushed me into writing For Neda.

Not politics, not power, not world events, but the horrible wrongness of what is happening to real people, daughters, grandmothers, sisters, children, sons, fathers and so on.

When each individual in the world can let down their barriers and allow their humanity to shine through, the way Melody Moezzi does in her interview ( www.melodymoezzi.com ) and when every individual can recognise the shared humanity in those they seek to harm - maybe we will get near living in a civilised world.

We all have a lot of work to do in the world before that is possible

This is a game on Twitter to come up with inappropriate book titles for children's books and I am half proud and half appalled at the titles I came up with.
I am putting them here so I can share them.
Sorry for some of them.

Harry Potter and the Stoned Philosophers.
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secretions.
Harry Potter and the Poisoner of Kurt Cobain.
Harry Potter and the Gobbet of Phlegm.
Harry Potter and the Odour of the Penis.
Harry Potter and the Half Nude Prince.
Harry Potter and the Deeply Shallow.

Who Katy Did.
Who Katy Did Next.
Who Katy Did at School.

The Lion the Witch and the Waterbed.

I shocked myself with some of them.

Chinese Whispers - this is how I remembered this:

Full fathom five
my father lies
of his bones are coral made
these are pearls which were his eyes
nothing of him but doth fade
or has suffered a sea change
into something rich and strange.
hourly sea nymphs ring his knell
hark now I hear them
ding dong ding dong bell

According to Wikipedia - this is how it should be:

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them — Ding-dong, bell.

I prefer my misremembered version

This was another punishment poem and is a 'speech' from The Tempest.
I love anything good to do with the sea so adored this poem and then the play which I searched out to read in its entirety before I was 14.

My favourite character was Caliban (who I keep wanting to call Taliban these days LOL)

Anyway the play must have had a huge effect on me, because I now live on a mediterranean island and spend as much time as I possibly can under the sea searching out visions of the rich and strange.

The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk

I am monarch of all I survey;
My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea
I am lord of the fowl and the brute
O Solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.

I am out of humanity's reach;
I must finish my journey alone;
Never hear the sweet music of speech—
I start at the sound of my own;
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see—
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, Friendship, and Love
Divinely bestow'd upon man,
Oh had I the wings of a dove
How soon would I taste you again!
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth,
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.

Ye winds that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report
Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.

How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind, 35
And the swift-wingèd arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to despair.

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place;
And mercy—encouraging thought!—
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.

This was another punishment poem LOL About Robinson Crusoe - they only had to learn one verse at a time - I think they got to verse 3 !!

When I was a child my mother made my brothers learn poetry as a punishment

I read voraciously and had a photographic memory so poetry was never my punishment. But I used to help test my brothers so that they could be word perfect and in the process I picked up a lot of stuff without realising it.

One of the poems I remember is as follows

There was a naughty boy,
And a naughty boy was he,
He ran away to Scotland
The people for to see—
There he found
That the ground
Was as hard,
That a yard
Was as long,
That a song
Was as merry,
That a cherry
Was as red,
That lead
Was as weighty,
That fourscore
Was as eighty,
That a door
Was as wooden
As in England—
So he stood in his shoes
And he wonder’d,
He wonder’d,
He stood in his
Shoes and he wonder’d.

It can be seen why it was one of the 'punishment poems' LOL

It was by Keats - but we never bothered learning the poets names - just the poems. Maybe it is why I never feel that my poems are much to do with me. If I write what I feel is a good one - I am proud as punch and don't feel the slightest bit big headed about it. I wonder if anyone will ever be made to learn my poems as a punishment? Perhaps reading them might be punishment enough LOL Well some of them anyway

Had to write something cheerful just to change the mood of the blog from the last post.

I'm still fat and grumpy - but there's no need to dwell on it. Mind you I'm big enough to be a house which is a dwelling ... Hmmm.

Anyway I wrote a new funny poem yesterday about competitions which I am just about to add to my http://www.poetry4fun blog.co.uk and I narcissistically listened to my own song "Now I've Grown" and pretended I was listening to a stranger and impressed myself - the title is too close to comfort given my uncontrollably expanding body size, but it isn't about that, it is about how a psyche grows under less than optimum conditions and is quite bleak in outlook.

So a good wallow song.

I'm off to add my poem to my poetry4fun blog and then hopefully get a swim in before it gets too hot.

I think I will also cook Ghemiste - Greek stuffed vegetables and later put them on my DEFOODY blog.

I will be less mopey if I keep busy.

Have a happy Sunday.

XXX

I just wonder.
When I was a child I was very stressed and miserable about my relationships with my family. I was also fat.

Then I detached myself a bit and started having outside interests and friends and then lost weight.

Then I got married, got miserable and got fat.

Then I separated and lost weight and had outside interests and friends.

Then I got into a long term relationship - got miserable and got fat.

Split up and started another relationship (happy to begin with) and lost a little weight - but then got married, got miserable and got fat.

Since then I have been consistently stressed out and miserable and consistently fat.

The fat always follows the miserable not the other way around.

It's as if no matter how much I exercise and how little I eat, something happens when I commit to other people and I get that sinking depressed feeling and can almost sense my metabolism grinding to a BIG FAT halt.

My husband has been away for 3 days during which time I was calm relaxed and exercising and eating sensibly. He got back today and now the atmosphere has changed. It isn't him. The family dynamic changes when he is around. I think maybe only children grow up learning to try and play one partner off the other and I don't know if they ever grow out of it - no matter how old they get.

But end result, racing heart, lump in throat and urge to climb under the blankets and stay there until the world ends quietly

I wish I was swimming. It is so peaceful under the sea

Good old British common sense being spoken at last I say! I've eaten clotted cream and drunk gold top milk for years and my doctor told me if I wasn't so strong I would never have survived my quadruple coronary artery ypass graft operation.Stick to plain old UK food and you won't go far wrong I say!
- john mitosis, ruchmond, 23/7/2009 08:02

Comment from Daily Mail article about drinking milk

Not sure whether it was intentionally hilarious or not I think probably yes - going by the name of the commenter!

Boris Johnson.

A piglet squid.

If you are interested in London and the safety of its cyclists - one of which is pictured above please take a look at this blog post by technomist about the true dangers of cycling in London.

Just been reading a Tweet from @PoetrySociety ( Don't know if I agree? http://bit.ly/49g56d )& it's associated links about the BBC Poetry Season. First of all, I am not resident in the UK and so I didn't get to see much of this. But what I did see of it, and what I heard of it via articles, radio programs and various people blogging it appears to me that it fell into the usual traps.

It seems to have taken the "Poetry is Dying and Obscure and the man in the street hates it or doesn't understand it or it is simply irrelevant" - tack and then tried to do it's bit to resuscitate the patient with a desperate application of jump leads and celebs visiting to make comforting noises.

Here's what I would have done if I had been in charge of BBC Poetry Season:

A program about nursery rhymes and their origins - with children reciting and singing old favourites and introducing some new ones.
Followed up with an invitation to the public to come up with new rhymes for the current age and with a prize for age groups 0-5, 5-12,12-16,16-25, and over 25's. The winners to be picked by primary schools and then a short program made with the winners introducing their rhyme and children performing them.

A program about folk songs and their origins. Again with folk groups performing them, again with an invitation to the public to submit their own folk songs and again a program to enjoy the winners/selection of submissions.

A program about 'found poetry' - the amazing phenomena of pieces of poetry that appear unintended in prose, speeches, lists almost anywhere that words congregate. Examples, maybe trot a few celebs out to explore this in an amusing and entertaining manner.
Invite the public to participate by phoning in/submitting pieces of 'found' poetry - selection to be be read out and maybe prizes, maybe phone in to judge the 'best'/'most amusing'/'most profound'.

A program about funny poetry. Including Ogden Nash, Hilaire Belloc, Ronnie Barker, Morecambe & Wise, Limericks, rhymes that were spontaneously produced in various radio 4 shows such as "I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue" - including some of the very amusing poetry by contemporary comedy poets such as Pam Ayres et al

Followed by a competition to encourage the public to write their own funny limericks and submit them etc etc

You can see a pattern here?

Maybe a program taken from the psychology of poetry and rhyming. Why are rhymes so instinctively satisfying? Why are some poems more satisfying without? A discussion/debate about whether rhyme is best or not. A phone in for the public to say whether they prefer rhymes or not.

In my opinion - most people DO like poetry. Just as most people like eating. But maybe they don't like what is served up to them and prefer the home made stuff, or something from their preferred flavour provider?

Perhaps poetry is not dying at all, but maybe there are less people prepared to pretend to like obscure, self referencing, rarified stuff? Maybe there are too many people these days happy to shout loud and clear that the king has no clothes on?

@paulmason10538 on Twitter - tweeted the lyrics for this great song and it made me feel like singing.

It was a hit for The Carpenters.

Talkin' to myself and feelin' old
Sometimes I'd like to quit
Nothing ever seems to fit
Hangin' around
Nothing to do but frown
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.

What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothin' is really wrong
Feelin' like I don't belong
Walkin' around
Some kind of lonely clown
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.

Funny but it seems I always wind up here with you
Nice to know somebody loves me
Funny but it seems that it's the only thing to do
Run and find the one who loves me.

What I feel has come and gone before
No need to talk it out
We know what it's all about
Hangin' around
Nothing to do but frown
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.

When I lived in the UK one of my favourite Tv comedies was "High Hopes"

It starred Robert Blythe and Margaret John amongst others and never failed to have the family laughing out loud at the surreal plotlines and very clever scripts. You probably haven't seen it unless you live in Wales, because it was only shown on Welsh BBC channels. I used to watch it in England because I had Sky+ and could get the welsh channels on that and already knew to look out for it.

In my opinion this comedy series (there were 5 series made and aired which gives you an idea of its quality and popularity) is on a par with the Father Ted series and has many parallels. Father Ted opened up a surreal window on a rural Irish life populated by loveable and bonkers priests. High Hopes opened a surreal window on a rural Welsh life populated by loveable and bonkers small time crook 'Fagin" Hepplewhite & his elderly retired exotic dancer Mam - Elsie Hepplewhite and their interesting relationship with the local constabulary.

I wanted to buy a boxed set of DVDs of this series so I could re-visit Cwm Pen Ol (the fictional village which translates into Backside Valley) and its much loved characters. But not only can I not get a boxed set - I can't get any kind of DVD at all!!!!

The BBC have not released this as a DVD or audio or anything!

FIVE SERIES and not ONE DVD available.

If you search for High Hopes on Google it is woefully under represented. I couldn't find anything about it on the BBC website.

There is a fansite called Satellite City dedicated to welsh comedies and highlighting the work of talented writer Boyd Clack who wrote and starred in High Hopes - but other than that - nada, zip,zilch,zero, NOTHING!!!!

Gob smacked isn't the word.

Satellite City have set up some petitions online to try and remedy the situation.

I remember a similar situation with Farscape - but it takes people to make a fuss to get anything done.

If you love tv comedy and either remember High Hopes or would like the opportunity to enjoy it outside Wales - please visit the Satellite City website and sign their petitions.

I also intend to send an email directly to the BBC complaining about this. I WANT MY HIGH HOPES DVD

Please join me in this by signing the petitions and if possible by directly emailing/phoning/writing to the BBC.

Here's a link to the episode guide so you can get some idea of what you have been missing http://www.satellitecitytv.net/hh_episodes.php

I found this photograph while tidying up.

It's me aged 22 ish give or take 2 yrs my memory isn't that accurate and no date on the pic.

I think it is time I let me out again and shed the 'protective' wobbly fat suit. Time to make me a project and no more self neglect and using food as a mood modifier.

I have made myself a promise. Today is the last day I will weigh this much and I will put all my will power (which is considerable when I chose to apply it) into getting the sort of vehicle around my soul that will empower it and enhance it - rather than hide and diminish it.

I've heard from various people via Twitter, emails and on some forums I am on that they have been unable to leave comments on my blogs over the last few days.

As far as I know this is 'just' a problem for visitors to the blog.co.uk community rather than for those of us who are members here.

If you have had a similar experience with one of my blogs please let me know about the problem by contacting me on Twitter.

I've put a query in with the support team here and hopefully the problem can be ironed out, if it hasn't already.

I have changed my avatar.

I had a go at audio files. ( they are on my poetry4fun blog)

I've been a bit grumpy online.

Suddenly it feels very lonely out here.

I'm hoping it is just because people are busy.

But my instincts are telling me that there is a problem with something.

Don't know what, but I'm a touch anxious.

Is it possible to have virtual B.O.?

If so I hope there is someone out there who considers themselves enough of a friend to tell me if I stink for some reason