uncharted territory

With your eyes glazed over,

you're a million miles away.

I look at you and wonder,

worry at where you are.

With no sure ways or signs to tell,

I have no choice but to be patient.

If you want me to know you'll tell...

I've never been one to invade private space.

I remind you gently that I'm here if you want,

and not to spend too much time in your head.

You reassure me that we're ok with a kiss and a comforting wing...

enough for me right now.

The light goes off and you slightly let the guard down;

offering just a few words.

I can't help and evidently have no idea what to say.

So I simply offer the same reassurance that you gave me.

Uncharted land.

New territory for both.

Slow and together... we'll figure it out.

a sunday afternoon

the room is dark and damp, lit only by tiny fairy lights and a bar sign saying 'blues'.

we walk in, unsure of what we have stumbled across.

seemingly quiet and unpopular, we take a drink and sit at the lonely bar.

warm up takes a while and the antiquated compare appears to know something about the old joint.

time passes slowly, and the bar beings to fill.

an extensive list of locals and new comers starts compiling and before you know it,

we can't move to get a drink.

the 'jam time' starts and feet start tapping,

hands keep the beat and mouths are filling in the gaps.

this room full of 'musos' and mates soon to be have something in common.

addicted to the feel of the instrument... of the crowds applause,

of the passion that unites cultures and people of all ages

the blues bar on a sunday jam session...

a unique feeling and nothing quite like it.

hooked

with droopy eyes and a lopsided smile, he returns to his loyal friend.

it's been hours of entertainment - yet he remains as engaged as ever.

his hands move swiftly,

eyes darting back and fourth... ignoring his name called by anyone.

breaking only for emergencies, he is hooked in the cyber world he has created.

despite the requests of school work and lessons,

friends and a social life...

he has no interest in a regular routine.

day in day out,

he feels compelled to participate in the game of cyber life...

always trying to outdo his previous score.

the droopy eyes start to close and the smile now sinister...

obsessed with world inside his own.

a tiny box with corners

At times I feel confined, trapped in a small box.

With a title and a place, a name and a responsibility...

my path and routine seems preordained.

Sure, there are the moments of sporadic diversions;

where I mix it up a bit.

But the immanent return to normality is always around the corner.

Returning to London now after a random countryside excursion,

the foreboding sense of dread creeps in again.

The obligation to work and return to 'housely' duties...

cleaning, cooking and washing etc

It clouds and angers the calmness I just had.

As empty fields are replace by congested roads,

quaint cottages by housing estates and fresh air by cluttered smog,

I feel claustrophobic again.

I want to be freed from the restraints.

Driving in any direction.... determined only by the look or by an obscure sign.

Tied down by no time restraints; rather just the want to move on.

Roaming and exploring a place of nil or much significance... simply because I can.

The freedom of simply being away form the obligation -

the certainty of my daily routine.

I crave for the right to slow down... to stop and enjoy.

To be at peace with my own pace and skin.

peaks and troughs

In a panic and a fluster,

she hastily makes the call.

The voice on the other end reassures her...

offers some simple advice.

The conversation ends and she tries to take control,

another phone call and appointment,

a cup of coffee and a muffin...

things appear calmer. For now.

Torn by location she drifts in between homes,

questioning the benefits in both.

Testing friendships make things hard,

non-comitted men can make it unbearable.

And so she finds herself this way.

Torn not just by location,

but by of making the difficult decisions.

The tumultuous journey she's on,

will no doubt tether out,

but the ride is a difficult one to watch.

The phone calls and advice,

the postcards and patience,

can seem so irrelevant when so far away.

Torn to protect her from the journey,

or let her experience the peaks or troughs,

I just want her to be ok.

north hampton nothingness

one of the many clocks chime and the house murmers in agreement.

the fire burning slowly, begins to gradually fade and the night lights create a path down the hallway.

creeping inside, content after a hearty meal and sufficient few bottles of wine, we giggle towards our bedrooms.

whispering stories of the night and plans for tomorrow, Charlie and I part our ways.

turning back the covers and ready for bed, I smile as a hot water bottle greets me.

new Irish family have a way of making you feel as if you belong...treated as one of their own.

a lie in for the morning, i rise to the smell of fresh coffee.

we watch the final of the aussie open like tiny children under heavy covers.

chattering incessantly... we even managed to have porridge in bed for breakfast.

no time restrains or deadlines our only rule for the weekend.

a road trip through the countryside,

another little pub meal and i feel like a small town woman.

despite the looming monday blues, we explore fields and little castles like we have no concerns.

only on the trivia playing train trip does our 'north hampton nothingness' seems like an exotic vacation.

we depart off the tube,

always sad to see another weekend end too quickly.

a weekend of winding down truly feels like a country retreat.

angela's irish home made bread,

vincent's lasagna with meat,

john's irish sayings and accent making me laugh

and charlies priceless companionship...

i imprint this moment in my mind,

reminding myself how blessed i am to be here and know this woman as my friend.

not so bad

They cajole around me, some towering above and others linking with my arm.

'Are you teaching us miss?' they ask with anticipation and a cheeky grin.

'Nah guys I'm sorry... I've even got a free so you know that I'd love to.'

'Oh nah miss, she's got no sense of umour!!'

'I'm sorry... you just go and behave. Try and have fun yeah'.

They start 'acting to cry', thinking it will persuade me.

And although I laugh, I secretly feel for them and wish I was going with them.

As a class, they start gently pushing me along with them towards the hall.

Laughing and chatting about them 'taking ova'.

These year 9's were once the hardest to teach, often ending with me walking out and feeling like I'd accomplished nothing.

They'd challenge me with their attitudes and madness - only wanting to play games and muck around.

Over time it changed, only ever so slightly but noticeable for me.

From pure hatred of the subject and the teacher, to coming to class and sometimes listening.

Chaos still reigned but it was organised and somewhat controlled.

A year later and the rapport has been strengthened again - all because of a change of teacher.

Now they realise that 'miss wasn't so bad yea?!'

I see them now in the atrium or hall, mostly the stairways where they are slowly making their way to class.

On the off chance when I teach them, be it history or maths, we have a laugh and an understanding that we're alright.

They now make me laugh and smile, like I have a place in this school.

That I have, despite the madness, made a difference in some students' life.

Bless this vivaciously manic, yet wonderfully kind group of people.