2014 a Short Review

I have not blogged in almost 10 months, shocking I know. Life has been rather busy and went from being very hard to being very wonderful. I had a month of work early in the year and now I am back on track and trying to finish the PhD. I have four wonderful pets, Daisy the dog, Aslan and Willow the cats and Karl the bunny. Most importantly I have my lovely girlfriend.

 

Enough mushiness now. I am going to re-start blogging so I just wanted to start with a quick recap of the time I’ve not been blogging.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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!

Faith and Love

The road ahead may not be easy,

the journey not always fun

and I can’t promise how it will end.

But it’s yours.

It’s always yours and only every

will be yours.

And you have to walk it alone.

But do not be afraid

because others walk on their own roads

on their own paths that will only every

be theirs.

And when in the hum of voices

in the chaos of bodies you

find someone who wants to

walk beside you

In faith and in love

Walk beside each other.

Roads never becoming one but inseparable,

neither leading or following,

but together.

As tides change and paths change

be patient, be kind and be faithful

in her and in Him.

The road ahead may not be easy

the journey not always fun

But I can promise it’s worth it.

 

The Image that inspired this poem.
The image that inspired this poem.

Pretty Petty Pity – Poetry

Winning was never important to me

it’s the taking part that’s key,

but when I met you that all changed

playing scrabble makes you deranged.

You begin to sweat

I begin to fret

and when you lose we fall out,

you huff and puff and sometimes shout!

And even when it’s not a game,

you look at me like I’m to blame

when you are not at your best

even when its not a test.

It’s a good thing you are pretty

and I’m not petty

cause I let you win out of pity.

Hayley and I in hats
Hayley and I in hats

 

Dear 16 Year Old Me – Poetry

Dear 16 year old me
Yes, at the age of 24 you are still overweight
And you’re still wearing those same glasses
You never really became cool
Although at the age of 19 you had a hair crisis
And just stopped caring

Dear 16 year old me
That music really sucks
You know you don’t like deathmetal
Go put some B*Witched on your iPod
Go on…you know you want to
And stop wearing that black lipstick
You secretly know it doesn’t look good

Dear 16 year old me
Remember when you read that book
And assured yourself it was a phase
It wasn’t
So stop kissing boys in bars
And when someone tells you they live in a castle
Don’t believe them
You will lose not only a significant amount of dignity that night
But also a very nice cardigan

Dear 16 year old me
Someone will call you beautiful
Even when you have a spot the size of the moon on your face
And some friendships will last 400 miles
And some days the world will be absolutely perfect

Dear 16 year old me
You will make some mistakes
Being catatonic in the knife capital of Europe
That’s a low point
And breaking your ankle on Hogmanay another
But in all honesty
Don’t worry to much
At least this far
It’s been alright

 

Shockingly this friendship has lasted 400 miles
Shockingly this friendship has lasted 400 miles

My 16th Birthday Party

Broken and Beautiful – Poetry

You are as beautiful as you are broken

And I would have glued every shard of you together

Piece by piece

Until blood poured from my crippled hands

Just to make you whole.

But you will always remain fractured,

Ill fitting in the body and mind which god granted you

Until you stop looking for what you see as normal.

And if you love men

Love them with all you are.

As I loved you.

Holding Hands

Pressed Moments – Poetry

I remember being young and my grandmother showing me flowers in a book

Not pictures of green stems and read petals

But small, paper-thin flowers

Colour pressed out over time

Held between tissue paper

A moment from long ago warped and frozen in time

A gift from my grandfather, who she met as a young man

 

I was given flowers, sunflowers and small purple flowers

They were beautiful, casting a large shadow on the wall beside my bed

I loved them

When they began to die I took the small purple flowers

Carefully wrapped in tissue paper and placed them inside a bible

To wait out time until they are as thin and faded at the flowers my grandmother showed me in her book

Moments from her past

 

These may not be flowers I show to my grandchildren

A moment of my past

They may become forgotten, lost in the story that is my life

But now they are a moment freezing in time

A moment stood still, unknowing when

If time and grace will end it

But now it is my silent symphony

A moment for myself

I have achieved a wish from my childhood

I have cared enough to press the flowers flat in the book

And in nurturing them I will leave them untouched

Because only time and patience will allow the moment to become fixed

 

FlowersShadowsGran and I at my Graduation

 

Said Little, But Said Enough

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I remember very little of one of the hardest days of my life. But I remember you. Holding my mother as she cried for the loss of her father. I don’t remember what was said or who else was there, but I remember you. Tall and strong, teaching me with your presence how to comfort someone for whom words could never be enough.

You told me of my twin cousins, dead before their first breath. You consoled me then. Said little, but said enough.

I can’t remember the first time we met. As is with memories, when I think hard enough I think I can remember. A false memory, a patchwork of times and places that my mind has assembled till the joins are barely visible.

You have always been quite. All through my childhood and adolescence the silence has been there, a shadow in the background of my life. Never a silence of distance or awkwardness. A comfortable silence. Like a sofa that is always there, not always appreciated but there none the less.

I don’t know if these words will be said in person, or what you would think of them. You have been there at my best and at my worse and your silence brought me calmness.

On Relationships, Harry Potter and Drunken Chats

I’ve just spent the weekend with my best friend at the Green Man Festival (blog post about festivaling to follow), and my best friend and I have a wonderful habit of philosophising and contemplating the world when together, particularly after a lot of alcohol has been consumed. Well, I say philosophising, we are probably slurring drunkenly and shouting, “Aye, fair dos mate!” every two minutes while pouring copious amounts of alcohol into a mug.

That aside, one thing we contemplated several times over the weekend was our current relationships and lack of previous ones. I won’t regale you with our drunken chat but the gist of it was that my adolescence had no prepared me for a serious relationship like it was supposed to (by these relationships I mean the proper adult relationships with the meeting of the parents and considering the big terrifying F*****).

When I was 15 years old my friends were having their first relationships, drunken fumbles at house parties while drinking Blue Wicked and tentative handholding at the school gate. What did I do with my late adolescence? I read Harry Potter, wrote FanFiction and listened to My Chemical Romance. In no way do I consider this a waste of my youth. I still enjoy Harry Potter, still have a quick fling with my favourite FanFics and love a bit of MCR. In contrast the majority of contemporises have now broken up with their first loves and are moving on to their new shiny squeeze.

But this adolescence of wizards left me at a loose end, relationship wise. I did not do relationships, a fact I told my Lady Friend when we started dating. Well, my wording at that point was slightly off; I said, “I don’t do relationships”, which was almost taken the wrong way. I had never had a meeting of the parents, an introduction to the friends and never even had a proper first kiss that wasn’t fueled by alcohol in a club at two in the morning. So going into a relationship was scary.

So where does this leave me now. I have been in a relationship with the LF for just over four months. Four wonderful months where things just seemed to have happened naturally. Nothing has been painful, or forced, or fake. It’s just been. I’m not saying I’m not incapable at times. I am. But I think we are working it out pretty well, I still have crazy ‘what am I doing’ moments, but they are followed up by laughs, and jokes and that takes away the scary moments.

Love
Perfect…but with many and varied flaws.