Hogmanay celebrations

This afternoon i ventured out to get birthday wrapping paper from our local Margiotta store so that i could send gifts off to the States for Marjorie's birthday which is in late January. On the way i received a phone call from Gail. Could you get me something? she asked. Yes, of course i replied, thinking that she would want either Nando's spicy crisps or pecan pie... Could you get me some of those round bread things that you eat sometimes? What i heard was "round red things" so i said what, oatcakes? No, those big round things with holes in them. We both ummed and aahed for a while as we tried to work out between us what these things were called, Gail knowing what she wanted me to get and me doing a mental hunt through the cupboards! Finally we got it - bagels! Yes, bagels. I want to put my candles in and light them, Gail said. Oh, ok i replied, thinking: Does she intend to stick a pillar candle in the middle?

It was only when i returned home with the requested bagels (i opted for plain ones rather than sesame!) that i realised that she wanted to finish burning her birthday candles. Of course! The bagel represented the full moon, the 10 candles are for the new year (it being 2010) and the milk chocolate reindeer was needed to represent Christmas.

We had a simple ceremony which ended with melted reindeer, waxy bagel and many photos! Oh, and then i lifted the candles and wax off the bagel, toasted it and we ate it!!!

Happy New Year!

Light Night to Fright Night

she offered herself as a human shield
the policewoman, blonde and brave
- though it was hard to believe
the sparks would not simply
plunge into her high-vis jacket
and rapidly melt gaping holes in it.

sparks -
fireflies hungry,
angry,
vicious -
blast from the fires,
rockets of hot, bright jets
unexpected,
whipped up by wind,
rebellious when dowsed
plumes of thick, acrid smoke
fill the night air and our eyes,
noses, lungs.

Smoke inhalation
fights with burning
as cause of death
i see hair catch light
faces lit with astonishment
then fear
as sparks melt hats and gloves
then lick their way over coats and scarves

Wicker Man, Guy Fawkes, now me.
I am alight,
i burn, i melt,
i scream
but my throat is a ball of fire
i scrabble to tear off my clothes
but my hands are dry bones
which clatter to the cobbled street
i stomp my feet
to get attention
but find there are
no boots, no feet, no legs,
just bones,
dry, barbecued bones.

And then,
and then
you pulled me
to safety
and i began
to reassemble.