A few beautiful things

See
The flicker of a candle,
The early sun,
Dad crying at The Lion King,
Home.

Hear
Other people’s laughter,
Waves hitting Abersoch Beach,
A heartbeat,
Home.

Touch
Holding a child’s hand,
Letting sand filter between my fingers,
Pebbles smoothed by the sea,
Home.

Smell
Freshly washed laundry,
Home made biscuits,
Eucalyptus leaves,
Home.

Taste
Earl grey from my wide rimmed mug,
Drinking red wine with friends old and new,
Satsumas on Christmas morning,
Home.

I'm a public kinda girl

Sometimes, I just adore public transport. Sitting on a train is so relaxing. I like to take my coat off and cover myself in it like a blanket. Sit with my back against the window and just watch life. I like it when the carriage is almost empty and I can place my feet on the chair opposite me and gaze out of the window. I like it when it is full of people and I can hear their conversations and learn from lives so different from my own. I find it quite amusing when people talk on their mobile phones, totally oblivious to me and the other twenty or so people who are listening or pretending not to listen. I especially like it when I catch the eye of a fellow traveller who has been amused by the same thing as me. Human connection is so important, even when you are surrounded by strangers. Especially when you are surrounded by strangers.

Last night, I bumped into two people who were not strangers at two different stations. I love meeting people unexpectedly. Unexpected people in unexpected places. First of all I met Peter Russell at Purley station. I was in my own little world, trying to buy a ticket from one of those machines that look so simple to use. I always struggle. Once ended up buying a weekly travel pass instead of a single ticket to Lewisham...anyway...bumped into Peter which cheered me up greatly and then spotted another non stranger at East Croydon. Did not speak to him because by the time I realised who had just passed me, it was too late BUT just seeing him brightened up my day. When the past touches the present, it is lovely. It reminds you of those special already been moments. Now I realise that the past is the past is the past and I am seeing it through rose tinted glasses but that does not stop rose tinted moments from being beautiful.

Oh yes and two minutes after arriving at a bus stop, my bus arrived. Have I mentioned how much I love public transport?

Where is that compassionate soul?
The girl who wept at tears not hers
who now walks past the homeless,
pretends they don't exist,
that she doesn't care.

No longer wishing for mankind's goodness,
longing instead for diamonds, clothes, sophistication.
She lives her life fearfully,
waiting for death's fingers to touch her,
watching and trusting none enough
to show them truly who she is,
what she longs to be;
Who she was once upon a time
- a compassionate soul,
a girl who weeps at tears not hers

My name is Becca and I'm addicted to books

Books. I love books. I love holding them. I love the smell of them (well unless they have been touched by substances disgusting - I had a note from one parent whilst I was teaching last year saying: 'Miss Thwaites, Winnie did not read this book last night as the smell of it was offensive. Please dispose of it') I can remember the first book I read independantly - 'The tiger who came to tea'. I can remember dad reading all of the Narnia books to Spud and I before we went to bed. I can remember the first book that I read to my first class - it was 'George's Marvellous Medicine' and I think that I enjoyed it more than the kids. Especially doing Grandma's voice.

Today I was reading a girly, historical romance and I realised how much my reading tastes have changed - have widened. Some may say however that reading historical romance novels shows that I have no taste.....At eleven, I read as many of the classics as I could lay my mitts upon. I lived in the world of Jane Austen and Thomas Hardy but at that age didn't understand much of the humour. I loved books about different times and my writing reflected this. All of my stories were set around the 18th and 19th centuries and involved little girls playing the pianoforte and sipping tea with the vicar of the parish. And I hated with a passion all things sci fi and non fiction. At 18 I moved on to more academic material. When we went on holiday, I would only take books that I felt proud of. Deep, reflective books. After university; after text book upon journal upon pontificating essay, my tastes moved on to mystery books - to Agatha Christie and Colin Dexter. Some nights when I was on my own in the house, I would get so scared, I would wait until I really, truly needed the toilet and then run there and run back - worried that I would find a murderer outside my door. I would check under my bed, in my cupboards, behind the curtains. And now? Now I love them all. I love the cheesy historical romances, the classics, mysteries, children's books and non fiction especially at the moment. I even pick up the occasional heavy, dusty uni book and read it for FUN. Right... back to Sir Richard Wyndham who has just rescued a small boy who, it turns out, is not a boy at all but an attractive heiress escaping an arranged marriage.

Just words

I wish that I could make you cry,
that you would pity me my
childhood. Or smile
at the past's perfection.

I could pretend all this.
Write my past, my life anew.
That's what poetry can do
- isn't it?

Make mum an alcoholic,
dad victim of some incurable disease.
Myself abused,
a sister dead
- some car accident or other,
and my brother? In a foster home.

This would be a poem to move you,
reader.
Something to remember.
Your page folded,
a note beside:
'I can feel her pain'

Can you?
Really?
What do you know of me?

Only what I write on this page

Abersoch

Abersoch. A beautiful seaside town in North West Wales. My home for two weeks a year for the past 14 years. It is here that I made many deep friendships, went crab fishing, did 8 water somersaults in a row and acted out some rather strange dramas. It is here that I invented the biscuit game which involves getting into the shape of a biscuit and everyone guessing which one you are. From this developed the poo and fruit games. Classics. It is also a place that I have felt so close to God. Quiet times spent on the beach at eight in the morning just sitting and listening to God's voice. Staring at His creation and realising that it is for me. He made it for me to enjoy. Real honest times of questioning, of being oh so angry. Understanding scripture - that Jesus is to me what the sheep was to Isaac. Also mourning the loss of my grandparents who both died when I was there. Seeing in others Jesus. The excitement when a child realises who Jesus is or asks a question. Abersoch. One of the many homes that I have had along the way.

Abersoch

My feet tread heavily

the beach wet and cool.

Sun above

wraps a body tired

close.

All still but the sea's

constant beat.

Beautiful.