"She lives the poetry she cannot write" – Wilde
Behold, the Jo Bell Patented Weather Forecasting Device. You might call it a flowerpot. It works like this: when it is full of water, it has been raining. When it is empty, it is going to rain. On Tuesday it had an inch-thick scone of ice in the top and I had to abandon my daily run (of which more below).
The marina cats gather for warmth on the gunnels of an old iron boat but it’s clearly too late for this chap, who appeared in the car park this morning ready for the Hallowe’en cruise… obviously BW are cracking down on boat license evaders.
Now, I’ve never been one for Sport; that is, the sort of hearty competitive violence that sees the chunky hockey-players grinning ‘We stuffed them, Bunty!’ whilst we weedy poetic types hide in the changing rooms pleading a broken spleen. And I can’t sign up for aerobics or classes because I get thrown out for laughing. At my last Pilates class the man asked us to ‘breathe in deeply…. And breathe out slowly through your eyebrows,’ and I had to be removed.
So I have taken up running. Rather, since accuracy is all important in poetry, I have taken up what I call Trudge and Bounce. I trudge for a bit, then bounce for as long as I can stand it, then revert to contemplative trudging. There has been some improvement – I can now bounce for about five minutes before turning purple and feeling that something important has split open inside me. The trudging gives me time to inspect my canal, and look around me at the glorious hills. They are wet hills, it is true, and they don’t see as much daylight as I’d like at this time of year, but it is a joy to do a bit of T&B around Macc, so long as I don’t go past any mirrors or large windows.
You’ll be wanting to look at this groovy little video on National Poetry Day’s 2008 work theme. NPD can’t claim any credit for it, it was made by if:books of their own free will – but it’s a great little film and I hope to rope them in to do more of the same next year. More exciting even than this was the new Bond film. I thought I was SO over Daniel Craig, but I’m right back under him as it were. He’s a Cheshire lad so I expect to bump into him any day at the post office.
I’m off for a trudge… I will leave with you with an appropriately spooky image for Hallowe’en, these morris-dancing Goths, seen recently in Whitby.