Outside my window

Outside my window...

well 

outside the window I am currently looking out of  - because it's not actually my window

The window I'm currently looking out of 

belongs to someone else 

in that 

I don't own this particular window 

so it's not my window

not my window I'm looking out of

but I do own some windows along with my wife 

I don't mean that I own my wife

I mean my wife and I own some windows ourselves

they're in the house we have lived in for 26 years

but they're not the windows I'm currently looking out of

anyway...

(Sigh)...

if I don't own the windows I'm currently looking out of 

what are we saying when we say "Out of my window?"

What are we talking about when we say window?

There are many windows 

What window are we talking about?

Are we talking about an opening in a wall 

or roof 

or building 

or vehicle perhaps 

that is 

maybe something that has been fitted into this opening

perhaps made of glass 

or perspex 

something held in a frame 

to let light in

or air 

or to allow people to see out

or to see in?

what do we mean?

do we mean 

an opportunity to see or understand something 

usually something we can't see like

"a window to see in and understand the workings of the local council"

Can anyone ever see in or understand the actual workings of a local council?

Or are we talking

a period of unbooked time in a diary, schedule, or similar 

Like 

"I have a short window over lunch in which I could see you"?

or 

do you mean something like a weather window

"We'd better get a move on before this gorgeous weather window closes"?

a radio window is similar due to atmospheric or locational restrictions 

"we'd better wrap this up now before the radio window closes"?

Or do we mean 

"Microsoft Windows"?

or...

in computing 

the area of a display that may be manipulated 

separately from the rest of the display area on your screen 

you know

different files can be displayed simultaneously in different overlapping "windows"?

...and then when you say outside..?

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Find myself again

I'm moving to a town - a town I know is there

but a place that's unfamiliar

a town I didn't grow up in 

some post industrial waste-land built upon a fading reputation  of some inde band whose songs I've never heard of

that will shape me into a person - a person I'm not sure of

and I'm going to take a garret

for that's all my pocket will stretch to

stuck above a "clip-joint" or a chicken take-away

and maybe find a sleezy bar and order myself a strong one

from the "good-time girl" before me

she the one who's mascerading as the one who tends the bar 

and I'm going to walk the footsteps of those who've gone before me

down the streets I've never walked before the day I started here...

and I'm going to build a new life but I'll make a few mistakes

but a good life it will be 

and many good people will I meet

many good things will I do

that just maybe one day I will write this story down 

this story I will write about the things that I once did

and who knows I might retrace all this 

through my children's very steps

through their very eyes and own experiences relived...

then might I find my way back home

where I will find myself again.

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Guilt

As I undress in preparation for a shower

I turn and catch myself in the full-length bathroom mirror

and am horrified by my bulging stomach.

I have eaten too many crisps lately.

I love crisps.

I then remember the large pack of crisps I half ate yesterday

leaving the other half for the weekend - as if 

as if saving half was some minor win for me

or something 

but still a sense of guilt washes over me.

I take my shower.

Later, I'm stood in the kitchen

and another wave of guilt washes over me

as I finish off the packet of crisps.

I love crisps!

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Hair

I had my hair cut once 

Twelve quid it cost

only for it to grow back! - I'm not falling for that trick again!

it's not just...

It's not just the strength of the brick 

more the team-work between the bricks and the mortar.

It's not just a coastline.

It's the end of the land

and the start of the water 

it's rugged

stunning

and it's dangerous - it's the seas edge.

It's not just a leaf - an annoying thing that sticks to your shoe in the damp Autumn mornings

that you walk into the house 

and that collects in piles that you have to sweep up.

It's a food 

food for trees and plants 

it produces oxygen for us to breathe

it absorbs the carbon dioxide we create

it absorbs water from the soil around the tree

and it is beautiful.

It's not just area of grass.

It is a space 

lovingly prepared 

for two teams to do battle on

for hopes and aspirations

for dreams to be made - or crushed.

It's not just a slug under your foot 

It's a key part of the eco-system

a composter

breaking down plant waste and recycling it for good.

It's not only girls that skip

more  

that boys feel the urge to skip - but they surpress it

incase their mates see them doing it

and call them 'gay'

It's not going to make a boy 'gay' if he skips - but maybe they think so.

It's not just a word - 'Dad'.

It's a title

earnt 

through late night nappy changes

walking them to school

being there

teaching them right from wrong - it's an example

a role. 

It's not just dough 

cheese and tomato paste

ham and onions 

and mushrooms if you like.

It's a Friday night treat

a celebration of a week's work done

it's bringing a family together

It's important.

It's not just day after day after day.

It's a life to do good

to teach your children well

to leave this place in a better shape than when you arrived

to love and be loved

to pass on memories

to make people glad they knew you

and that they had you in their lives.

Isn't it?

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Hate Love Hate

I hate all this weather we're having

I love a shot on goal

I hate the way stars lap upon a deserted beach

I love it when a train passes

I hate it when people paint shop doorways

I love blue socks

I hate the way people spin this planet 

I love ploughing my beard

I hate the way hills go up steeply

I love the rustling of plastic bags

I hate the colour of trees in winter

I love the sound of frozen breath 

I hate wind-turbines on hill tops

I love broken smiles

I hate the rigidity of grass

I love the silence of wind

I hate the tick of a clock

I love the tock 

I hate it when fish block the escalator on the underground when carry too much shopping in a pink balloon 

Trifle

Suitcase 

Football...

I love sound of a fresh mown lawn

I love writing nonsense poems 

but white is the wrong colour

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