Science, Craft and Poetry – A Long Overdue Update

I have been a very poor blogger in the last month. Work has been very busy and I’ve been trying to get my PhD in order. I have been trying to increase my productivity and be more positive. It’s working! I am now much more positive and I can start to see it all coming together and becoming more joyous about my work. I have been working on a raft experiment which is all finished and has been sent to the lovely people at Propath to be sectioned and stained. Looking forward to the results coming back…All fingers crossed.

My Babies in an Incubator on Day One
My Babies in an Incubator on Day One
SiHa cells on a collagen plug being fed with E media
SiHa cells on a collagen plug being fed with E media

I have also been doing lots of craft this month. The highlight so far being a Dr Who skirt made from a pillowcase I bought in a charity shop for £3! I have also bought a Buzz Lightyear duvet and a sheep duvet on Ebay which I am going to make into a skirts too. I am tempted to move on to dresses but going to try and get skirts down to an art first.

Homemade Dr Who skirt
Homemade Dr Who skirt

Finally I thought I should end with some poetry. These two were written at a Relaxation and Reflection workshop run by the lovely Christina Thatcher and Charlotte Nock. The aim of the first poem was to talk positively about your body and the second poem is based on something I do to relax.

Sorry for my selfishness

I am abusive to you both

and for that I am sorry

you did nothing to deserve this

and, I have no excuse for my actions

They were selfish

acts often driven by vanity, haste or lust.

You have both stuck by me

even when I forced you out in the cold

broke your bones when I

was too drunk to care

then made you work for eight hours straight

to fuel my drunken binge.

I have never taken to to be pampered

never a whole night off

never really respected you

for what you do for me.

So, my companions

the the who walk with me through life

Right foot

Left foot

I am sorry for what I did

Those shoes were too small

they didn’t stretch to fit

and those socks weren’t clean

so this year I make a vow

to think of you more often

and be kinder to you

(unless I really like those shoes,

available only in a size too small

but then, at least

you will look fabulous!)

Fear

I hold inside me a mild fear

of being pregnant at 16…

I am 24

I alos have a fear

of being the world tallest woman…

I’m 5ft 6″

So I watch documentary after documentary

so I can make a plan

incase I end up in a South American jail

or become a child genius

or decide to join a cult.

I hold inside me a mild fear

of not being prepared.

16 and Pregnant

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My Luve is Like a Red Red Rose – An Interpretation

Today (25th January) is Burns Night where we celebrate the life and works of the Scottish poet Robert Burns. Today is also St Dwynwen’s Day which celebrates the Welsh patron saint of lovers, a Welsh Valentines Day.  To observe both these events I decided to recite a love poem by Burns, My Luve is like a Red Red Rose. When I read it out to my flatmate she saw something else in the poem and we wrote an interpretation of the original.

Robert Burns
Robert Burns

 

My Luve is Like a Red Red Rose

By Robert Burns

 

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,

That’s newly sprung in June:

O my Luve’s like the melodie,

That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

 

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

 

 

Till a’ the seas gang dry , my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

 

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve !

And fare-thee-weel, a while!

And I will come again, my Luve,

Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile!

Suzy and I, just as serious  and sensible as Mr Burns.
Suzy and I, just as serious and sensible as Mr Burns.

 

A Luve is Like a Red Red Rose – An Interpretation

By Rachel Houghton and Suzy Youngman

 

My love is like a green, green zombie,

That rises from the dead,

The only way to kill him,

Is shoot him in the head!

 

As grey thou art my crippled corpse,

From underground you lie,

And I love you still my dear,

Until the dead do rise!

 

Until the dead do rise my dear

And the army’s overrun.

Then we shall meet again my love,

Under the fading sun.

 

Join with me, my only love,

Heal my rotten heart.

Thou this world be broken

This is just the start!

Winter Writing Poetry

Last Saturday I spend the day up at The Ciliau in Mid-Wales. I was there at the end of summer and we spent a wonderful day writing about the countryside and read poetry down by the river. This time you could definitely tell winter is on its way, the wind battered down the fields and the river was almost unrecognizable. Christina and Emma were facilitating again and they made it an amazing day with a beautiful range of winter poetry to read and inspire us. I wrote loads on the day and I am looking forward to going back over things and editing. Below are two pieces I am pretty happy with, the first piece was inspired by the prompt ‘winter from inside the house’ and the seconds one I was inspired by the poem ‘The Promise of Snow‘ by Esther Morgan to personify winter.

Beautiful changing colours of the coutryside
Beautiful changing colours of the countryside

Winter Woes

The toilet is always cold

Nothing heats the ceramic bowl

In the dead of night when I can wait no longer

With a heavy heart it’s there I wander

To be woken up with a chill to my ass

Oh, woe is me for being a lass

Winter Kisses

Winter has kissed many lips

Not bothered by sex, colour or creed

all lips are given the same attention

but some are kissed so hard they bleed and crack

The ones without home or fires

are favoured with an embrace

squeezed until their bodies become cold

and as stiff as their loving captor

Winter watches the people left behind

weeping in jealousy of those chosen for special attention

winter thinks if they were to pay them enough thought

he would not have to hold the ones we forgot.