The Present Of The Past

That green, green caravan.

Chipped paint and the smell 

of burning sausages.

A carpet of wild grasses and flowers 

spread before me, more majestic than

any red velvet line.

How I love this place.

The placid horses in the adjoining 

field watching in bemusement

as I place my spindly eight year old foot

onto Titania's carpet

and throw myself in the air.

The fauvist ballerina, all arched 

hands and pirouetting limbs,

flying into the sky

and then rolling into the earth,

grasping fistfuls of grass as if

readying myself to consume the

world.

A haze of Beethoven's 

Pastoral Symphony in my

ears, my eyes, my mouth. I can taste

its mellow honey.

My mother claps her hands

 in smiles, beautiful tanned gypsy

woman icon in cheesecloth red.

Perhaps one day, if I laugh enough, 

I will be that woman.

Now is all preparation.

I am singing as I dance,

I am embracing the air as a trainee lover

and it plays waywardly with my 

dark curls, blowing them up high

above my head so that I grow a tall crown of hair.

Queen of the flowers.

I feel beautiful. The boys join in,

moving their bodies like mad 

little warriors fighting against 

an unseen force.

This is my freedom. Great blasts

of joy lift me out of

my insignificance and carry me on the wind,

heady summer carriage of hope.

The bonfire my father builds burns holes into the dusk.

Happiness poem written by me (and published in a national anthology) in 1999.

The Outfit

Vintage 1970s Maxi Dress: bought and worn by my Mum when pregnant with my younger brother

The Soundtrack

Van Morrison: Astral Weeks

Photos taken by me last month using my little digital camera at 26 weeks pregnant 

Cocoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

 

I loafe and invite my soul,

I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,

Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,

I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,

Hoping to cease not till death.

 

Creeds and schools in abeyance,

Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,

I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,

Nature without check with original energy.

 

 

Part 1 of Song Of Myself by Walt Whitman, via 1

The Outfit

Vintage 1970s Liberty Print Pregnancy Maxi Dress: made by late granny Kiki for my Mother

Rosebud Clips: from Accessorize

Black Belt: old from the high street 

 

The Soundtrack

Nick Drake: Place To Be

 

 

Photos taken at my parents' house a few weeks ago when I was 22 weeks pregnant with twins.
The large portrait I'm sitting next to shows late granny Kiki in her early twenties.

 

Thanks for your thoughts on nursing dresses. I may need to opt for separates much of the time when breastfeeding, but refuse to give up my dress addiction entirely. Some of you were asking for an example of what I'm looking for, it's this sort of thing, with a wrap tie front and hidden panels for nursing beneath, only below knee length and ideally a little more interesting:

 

 

 

 

 

 

or button down styles like this:

 

 

 

 

I'm well aware I may be asking the impossible! Have already succumbed and bought one high street nursing dress. And if need be there's always dresses like these on Ebay......

Christmas Tale: Soft By Candlelight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the sleepy dancers gone,
Just one candle burning on,
Shadows lurking everywhere:
Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go
Nodding under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
Stooped in the still and shadowy air
Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

 

 

Mistletoe by Walter De La Mere, via 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit:

Vintage 1970s Maxi Dress: made from Liberty fabric by Granny Kiki for Mum

Red Berry Christmas Wreath: my Mum's, worn as a crown

 

 

Photographs taken by my Mum and myself, using my little camera.

Shot in my parents' bedroom.

 

 

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas!