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

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.

Wonderfully Shit -Poetry

My home is wonderful.

My house is shit.

Black mould paints the walls,

sits on my books before dancing in the air.

I clean with Detol, Flash and Vanish.

It always comes back.

 

Then the cupboard lost its door

exposing beans, peas and Gobin Pie.

This at least is edible.

The milk in the fridge shouldn't be solid

and I'm sure ham should not be green.

My house was shit.

My home was beautiful.

Our vodka family
June 2011...decided not to take our tree down too early
Bye bye flat 😦

 

 

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

Landscape writing – Poetry

Yesterday I went with some other writers to The Ciliau which was a beautiful house in the middle of the country. There I met a range of women from professional authors, to a pilates instructor and an artist and we spent the day writing and performing poetry in this beautiful landscape. 

Later in the day we went down to the river and performed some poetry the waters edge and then had a chance to write some of our own. This is perhaps my favourite piece of the day and the most polished in the short time we had. I wrote several other poems and prose pieces during the day which I am still working on editing.  I read this to the group at the end of the day at Ciliau and got lots of laughs out of them. The leader of the group also said she liked the way I read it, I’ve got a bit of a accent that seemingly works well when I read, so I might try recording it and seeing how that goes. 

Stone

I’m a stone, a little red stone

In my little river home

 

I’m not self-conscious of my shade

So bright others call me brave

I don’t know why I am so red

“You’re just unique.” My parents said

 

But I’m not sure that’s really true

I could have been born green, black or blue

Perhaps its because I blush

Or I’m having a hot flush

But I am not prone to emotions much

And I’m not sure I have hormones as such

 

But yet here I am, a little red stone

In the little river I call my home