The headlines of my life

Born in davyhume in 74
To Pam and Malcolm a son
To Gary a brother 7 years junior
Home was a flat across from my nan.
 
The memories are sketchy at best

I'd moved from the flat before turning one
Only 100 yards away
And strangely still opposite by nan
 
It was around the age of 18 months
My behviour as a child changed
Sleep was no longer a friend on mine
My parents lives rearranged
 
For the next year or so
I made my mother weep
My mind was engaged with everything
And I ran on just one hours sleep
 
The neighboorhood would help to raise me
mum slept whilst it was light
Aunty Agnes and aunty Anne did the day shift
And then mum stayed up through the night.
 
Doctors tried all medications
I spent time with child psychologists
Efforts mainly were fruitless
Experts became mere apologists
 
One final throw of the dice
Chances of success miniscule
At the age of two they decided
To send me on early to school
 
The idea seemed to work
Through the day my energy abated
Physically worked out
and mentally stimulated
 
Mrs Reagan was my nursery teacher
In all for near three years
We had a great connection
Formed through smiles and tears
 
Pat Reagan to all who know her
Has cared for three generations
Is still teaching at my primary school
The name nursery swapped with foundation
 
I remember primary school fondly
I loved to make friends and to play
I never had feelings of anxiety
I looked forward to school every day
 
I think I remember all of my teachers

Mrs Cornthwaite, Sheila Atkinson
Sheila Woodyatt,  Anne Taylor, Vera Pryce
Mrs Smith, eccentric Mrs Bernard

Ian Royal, Diedri Stubbs, all were nice
 
Mrs Bernard was one in a million
She had these crazy ear rings
A dog called bonnie and drove a tr7
Played piano and funny songs we would sing
 
She read Ogden Nash and Roald Dahl

with so much passion and conviction
She created new realities
Cratfted on carpet with fiction
 
I remember the fire at the scool

Mrs Bernards room was burnt out
A large section of the main school was damaged
My brown pencil case I'd do without
 
I loved the social side of school
I remember all my classmates
I felt closest to simon Whitehead, David Lowe
Namoi Stanway and Sarah Yates

TBC 

Distant memories

He sits alone and wonders
Of a life that he once knew
Of people real and places near
Are the memories true

Vivid dreams they're not
And whilst they did take place
There's not enough familiar
It's just the faintest trace

It a factual account
Recalled in fading hue
And whilst he cant remember
He knows it all as true

Call me, text me, FB me

It's that god awful feeling
When you notice your pocket feels light
When you've been out of the house for fifteen minutes
And you realize your phones not in sight

You'll only be out for an hour
And half of that times in the car
But still you are undecided
Is driving back is a step too far?

It's a feeling that you might miss that call
The one you're not actually expecting
Or worst still not be able to make a call
As a phone box is out of the question

Or you won't see that status update
From your friend who's not a real friend at all
You walked passed him in a corridor at school once
Granting him access to your soul on a wall

A phone has and always will be
A device for communication
But the thing that strikes you as different
Is the constant update fixation

The idea of not having a device
Is one not many comprehend
It's your camera, photo album, notepad, map,
Address book, toy box and friend

So with this multi-functional Swiss army phone
Our lives have to be sweeter
But there are so many things it will never do
To kiss her is not the same as to tweet her

It's an add on not a replacement
life is much more than an app
upgrade your thinking, download some You time
Avoid this gadget based trap.


Written on my iPhone.
Sent from my iPod

Poor Sir Lyn

It's a challenge in life, I must endure
and it's one I must do on my own
tort but pensive I resolve many battles
when I sit down and thrutch on my throne