I was musing on Shilpa Shetty , my Capital Project Director and her desire to go to the Bollywood awards next month ( or two, if any one can help her out...?) and then I thought if Bombay be Mumbai, then Bollywood surely needs to rebrand as Mollywood..........

Hello Dear readers!

Now I must explain .... I posted here a while ago my first meeting with my dear friend Alec Weston the soon to be famous author and I was not kind! I am not removing it because I think that though is harsh and actually I love the dear man, but also its an excellent reminder that this writer( me, hang head in shame to hide wry grin) has a first class temper and should be crossed with caution! Or more accurately I burn fast and furious and forgive just as rapidly often ( depending on the nature of the suspected insult of course!) So later i promise I will tell you some of the nice things about this fellow blogger but for now I am just adding this rider....

So be warned "do not take my words too seriously!"

Why should I be nervous?

Enjoying the communication with this blog friend has engaged me in a dialogue with a human being I might never have had, unlikely we should have connected merely in passing and there is nowhere our worlds would collide.

So we met here in Blogland, sharing pages, stories, opinions, emotions, work and then phone calls continued the dialogue.

Now we were to meet.

He chose the venue, but had the greater `distance to travel. I had chosen a very central hotel, easing my various errands around the city. He arrived he said to the pavement outside closed by workmen, but good fortune, they had completed their task on his arrival and allowed him entry to the delightful interior, and he, alone, could enjoy the singular attention of the being the solitary customer on a wet and busy Wednesday morning on Charing Cross Rd. Thus on my arrival he appeared to be in good humour.

Easily identifiable from the photo on his blog, he seemed also to recognize me easily, though to be fair I am very unlike my photo. Meaning the photo is of me, but taken at a very flattering angle and with delicious lighting. The first problem soon emerged.

“You are whiter (yes whiter, not lighter or paler you will note) than I expected” being preceded by “ of course this may be very unPC but..” didn’t make it any less offensive! However I can only assume in an attempt to redeem himself he added “and more bland!”

Did I recover from this onslaught well? Did I f*!

At first, I had difficulty reconciling the voice and the face as a moving speaking whole, having achieved this, I found myself considering whether the whole held any attractiveness for me. Obviously given his initial assault I wasn’t best placed to find him pleasing. He retains more of the air of a camp old bugger than I expected, his movements falling just short of foppish, and his constant self regard being palpably evident throughout our exchange. His eyes are blue, but age has dulled their rigour I think, they did not hold the cut of intelligence I was expecting, a remnant of cunning perhaps and that disengaging self satisfaction. Oh Alec, how harsh am I! call me white ever again and watch out you b*!

Okay, I have a grip! I am considering finding something kind to say. I am not inclined to make much effort in this direction at this time.

This blog has the potential of being endlessly long. You can stop reading now if your desire. I am about to change the subject. For those who may not have guessed by now this is another of my proxyblogs which appear to ( to me atleast)  reveal a quite different persona in my writing. Thus I can repeat I am on a train. Not and I expect this is quite obvious, the same train as my previous blog.

That train arrived in London a disturbing 9 minutes early.

This one has been delayed by over an hour. Not cancelled atleast, but required to travel at a genteel 55miles an hour due to high winds. Which has given me plenty of time, to rest, sleep even, drink coffee, eat chocolate, make a number of very vital work phone calls and diary appointments and vent my spleen in this delightful post. We are arriving in Beeston shortly. Oh happy day.

I hope to be back live very soon. Meanwhile. Stay loved and lucky in Blogland this day.

x

Dear Bloggers

Of course I have been gone too long to deserve your attention or respect. Work can and should never be the excuse for blank or boring pages and worse! I am on a train. Again. So not actually blogging live. Which has been my habit. Once even a regular habit.

I wish to write about two things and yet I am curiously reluctant to enter either. My sense of snonymity being about to be breached! Yes dear reader I am meeting a fellow blogger. I am thrilled and excited. We are of course not your average middle England bloggers , We are resplendent in our own self worth of being , dare I say it, better than the average Blogger. Not you of course, never my regular readers and if by some good chance this is your first visit, then by luck not you either. You , dear readers are as precious and wondrous as we. Its those others, who , thank heavens , do not enter my pages, lest they tremble with horror at my rulelessness and ironic bad manners. The Top Bloggers are not allowed upon my pages. They shrivel and shreiek with horror and scream and whiter at each and spend time licking wounds and of course each others arses….

What a strange start! Perhaps some random ghost blogger energuy has crept up upon me on the train and needed to vent its spleen before smke-phuffing into another diemension.

So back to the essence(s) of this proxyblog.

I am on a train, yes I know you know, but possibly in actually publishing this entry I might remove the first paragraph or two ,in which case you wouldn’t know now would you! Oh the logic of some people.

Yes.

Heading into the Smokey City.

Meeting the delightful and (I)( trust)( find) delectable Mr Weston. We had hoped to catch a movie, the Last King of Scotland of course. But my rather hectic schedule denied us this pleasure. I myself was happy to sit for the two hours of our first meeting in a dark room watching the flickering images, Mr W desired a more conversational start to our live life. Of course he plans to gaze lovingly into my deep brown eyes and longingly upon my sweet ruby lips whilst struggling to keep his hands off my joyfully plentiful hips…. I wonder what my plans are? I have made no time to scrutinize my motives!

I will endeavour to report on the meeting in these pages, as in only fitting, of course the predatory male (his mothers description! Not mine) may consume me and leave unable to report anything. Oh Sienna, I hope I have your gift of recovery, though to be sure I’ve not been called over to your blog for awhile – mmmmm I am hoping you are okay – (Some-one report here!) I am essentially a motherworrier at heart.

Which brings me neatly to my second issue.

Ah, timing. I decide to take break. I need both loo and tea, a usual state of erratic affairs I find when traveling on trains, and both needs often so pressing, I am due in in 20 minutes exactly, its 8.58 and the train, we are told is due in at 9.18pm.

I am going to pack my proxyblogmachine away and focus on the evening ahead. This too I may return to blog about in due course.

Love you my darlings.

Find me on MySpace and be my friend!

My Love

Your skin glows like the lips, blossoms red as the ego in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your wooden top voice and leaps like a spinningtop at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great roaring brook on the wing.
I am comforted by your love that I carry into the twilight of kindness and hold next to my verse.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears to dust.
As my urgent melody falls from my piano, it reminds me of your nipples.
In the quiet, I listen for the last shotgun of the day.
My heated apple sauce leaps to my breasts. I wait in the moonlight for your secret boom so that we may blunder as one, apple sauce to apple sauce, in search of the magnificient strawberries and mystical cream of love.

Initially, My words are treacle from head to keyboard.

They are clinging to the back of my ears for dear life, refusing to be freed.

I love God and I can call her Allah.

I witness her, every day, in the people I share air with, in the trees and the sun, in the wind and the cold, in building, in words and whispers and especially in song.

She lights up my world.

I have waited next to a path. I whispered good bye when I was young. I thought I had wandered far away and perhaps, perhaps I did.

But she, Most magnificent and Lovable, called me, and kept calling me. She sent me her emissaries in smiles and bright eyes, in my children, in bright red paint and by every seashore.

and then, Mohammad, peace be upon him,

My god I have wanted to love you as wholly as a human ever can, to be patient as you are patient, to be thoughtful as we are filled by your care, to be mindful of need and kind in my giving, to be honest and brave.

I, through the teaching of my favourite prophets, Christ, who my mother raised me with and Mohammad, who was always there, but who I found slowly and gently; need to declutter my life and my mind and my soul.

I am not mystical, or have never been. Not given to magic except the desire to fly. I have and continue to love answers, facts and truths, provable and concrete. I believe in people. In free will. I don't believe in Hell in an after life but do believe we can experience hell on earth and that we all suffer if we allow or contribute to other's suffering.

I believe that God is responsible for all things, good and bad that happens because she gave us that ultimate gift of free will. Because having the understanding and capability to choose to be good and to allow and encourage others to be good is the greatst gift of all.

I belive that goodness means godness.

I love having the capacity to believe.

I believe that many people are on paths towards godness, and that individual relationships with the world that include an appreciation of any of the aspects of the wonder of god ( Goodness) are valid, and vital. I do believe there is only one God and that is God and that Mohammad is his messenger. I do think that may not make me a Muslim in the long run but makes me one today.

I was inspired to write this today by your first post http://goddesss.blog.co.uk but it just a bit long for a comment!

Peace and love.
x

I haven't smoked for nearly a year, isn't that bloddly brilliant?

dove coo
soften the pillow
with talk of sleep

bells hell
time tells
wrinkled and bagged

every muscle needs stretching
and I started with Atkin today
oh well
possibly
I'll smell.

nothing but sobriety
and seriuosness
and

still waiting
patiently
for love.

love

love

how brief and strange a passing thought that wakes one from her slumber
duvet too heavy or too hot
or an onset of a fever?
the dreams that purpose serve our sleep
yet wake us much too early
again have tumbled me from my bed and drawn from me the questions.

If closure is a passing fad
and median disceptor
I am yet to put to bed this last and long disclosure.

if possible my heart is lost
its beat unheated plodding
unheard of love requitted long
and blessed by non but science

I'll pause and let your conclusion draw
from all that is your story
a historian arrogance I have not
so will wait upon your telling.

Alls well?

Good, I'd loathe to have you hanging!

Thus my tale can open with the dream
the academic hall is filling
a serendipitous find I'm there, by Bonington traversing.

I take my seat
and gaze and think
he's eloquent and as lovely
as memory has served him thus at random opportunity.

his speaking ceases to applause,
my intention is unconscious
I go to take my leave
with students exiting from the height
by way of leaving without sight.

he calls my name
and I return
and let him take his chances
I presented here by chance, I say
a serendipity,
the word sharpens his gaze
and I am lost
again.