Authors Electric

As it is the day of the general election in the UK. I've written a lighthearted poem of outlandish promises candidates might claim they will deliver if elected. It is complete nonsense, any policies I've included are completely spurious and any resemblance to actual politicians is completely unintentional. Here are your five candidates - who would you vote for? Vote for me, vote for me I promise chocolate cake for tea, Overflowing lemonade All is free, expenses paid. Vote for me and you will see The future’s bright We’ve got it made.   “Cast your vote for me” she says “Just put a cross beside my name Not all the parties are the same We all find scapegoats we can blame. My policies? Oh, this and that Tax cuts pulled out of my magic hat How could you not vote for that?” A vote for me will save the world I’ll make the sun shine every day* (*Except for Christmas - we’ll have snow) The world will be a happy place Here, have a sticker, with a smiley face. ...

Recently, my daughter sent me the link to an article about the women of Greenham. I had never camped there, but had visited a few times for demonstrations and to show solidarity. I had three small children at the time and a husband working somewhat more than full-time, and would not have dreamed of leaving them. I remember an elderly Friend saying words to the effect that clean clothes and brushing teeth wouldn’t matter when the bomb went off. True, but until then, the small mundanities of life must go on, I thought. There were women at the camp who had left families behind; there was also some talk of women who had fled unhappy relationships. I don’t know about that. I just know that they were all much braver then I was, to uproot themselves and live in challenging (to say the least of it) conditions in order to bear witness to the evil of the base and protest against it loudly, disruptively and consistently. I honour them. I have one caveat: a young father took his children to the ...

The 21st of May, one month to freedom (or so our rulers say). Three full lockdowns, two stolen years to stop us all from dying (or so our rulers feared). A single day equals fifty-three million  masks in landfill, as many unseen smiles and muffled protests (that our rulers suppressed). Enjoy your new normal! Six people in a soggy bubble drinking alfresco from takeaway cups, fully vacc'ed yet tracked and traced (our rulers say just in case). While behind locked doors, the lonely seek solace from Facebook friends never met and scammers they don't suspect, conspiring to explain what makes zero sense in this infinite emergency. Five virus deaths today (subject to change). Statistics are fantastic! Mightier than words when used on the innumerate to frighten and control (as our rulers well know). One month to unlocking when the truth will hit the fan. Might need to open more slowly, find a positive spin for economic meltdown, negative interest rates, a million new variants, mental he...

  What with lockdown and the weather, it’s been hard going these last weeks! On the plus side, I have been slowly mutating into my aunties, beloved bakers and knitters and stitchers, joys of my childhood. They were limited in their aspirations by time and circumstance, but content with their lots, so it seemed. I was the only girl born for many years, so was the happy recipient of beautiful clothes – smocked dresses, knitted cardigans… and oodles of pocket money for doing little errands for them. Now, with no need to be striving to be ‘someone’ outside the house, I’ve been learning the contentment of housewifery. I don’t mean dusting or hoovering,by the way, nothing so drastic, just making. Supplies of cheese straws (recipe courtesy of Auntie Sheila) go out to a friend in a nursing home. We are growing fat on home-made scones and biscuits and buns.   Then there’s the knitting. I make things for Knit for Peace and CRIBS. I’m not a natural and often have to start again a cou...