Yay my SO is back driving (although he still walks round with his arm in the napoleonic style - poor thing) - so no more white knuckle, closed eyed drives on the motorway or across the harbour bridge unless I choose. Ultimately it was good practice and i do feel a little less nervous about motorways and bridges but there are some real psycho drivers out there - Guys! Calm down, chill out, go home, hug somebody.
You all need to head over to Maureen Crisp's blog here today to be reminded about why you need to find out how to work this intermawebby thing. And australian wunderkind writer Lili Wilkinson's blog here is always worth a look too. I'm about to take my walking flea hotel for a trot up on Big King so I'm just going to post an old poem of mine today. Sorry its a bit sad...
For All the Lost Girls
They're calling my name
But I'm not her anymore.
Interrupted
by chance,
Picked up
Put down,
Lost at sea
Buried in the sand
Wrecked.
There's no outlook
No chance for stormy weather
Slammed doors
Lost touch.
Pitch a tent,
Query the neighbours,
Let the dogs out.
But I'm gone
Whatever you find
I'm not her anymore.
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