Category: Life’s rich pleasures

I do find joy in many thing, once I’ve stopped whinging. These poems celebrate them.

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The Water Droplet

Out with for a walk with the boys yesterday, all three of us took utter delight in spotting icicles. (The boys also took utter delight in snapping them off and using them as weapons, but we’ll edit that bit out.)

So yesterday evening, the funniest thing happened. I came over all airy-fairy. Fear not – I made a full recovery – but not before I penned this little flight of fancy. So get your whimsical wigs on and enjoy.

The Water Droplet

Cut loose from the rigid regime
of a snowflake, I join with a stream,
flowing free – oh! just like those sweet dreams
that I dreamed when I dwelt in a swamp.
Down
I
romp,
with my soulmates bound close to my side,
What a ride! Til we joyfully slide,
with a whoop and a cry from the roof,
and
then…
Ooph.
I collide with an icicle. Please,
no, don’t freeze! I cry out – but I freeze….

I sulk. I await my release.

But then, as I hang, it occurs
to my brooding mind – things could be worse.
I’m with friends. I look good. There’s a view,
I’ve got nothing important to do,
except join in the winter display
as a sideshow to snow. And one day,
when I’m caged in an aquifer’s pore*,
or in polar ice – man, what a bore –
for millennia, possibly more…

I’ll think this was the best day of all –
When I hung from the roof looking cool.

 

*See – whimsy and A Level Geography can  be happy bedfellows…

©️Nina Parmenter 2018

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Dinner with the girls

Last Saturday I went out for dinner with some fabulous friends, and it struck me how very similar it was to dinners-with-friends 20 years ago – but yet how very different. Different place, different friends, slightly different topics of conversation – yet the laughter, the bonding and the sheer joy of time spent with my ladies remained the same.

And, obviously, my face hasn’t changed a bit.

Dinner with the girls

1 – THEN (1998)

Dinner with the girls today,
So little time, so much to say!
We’ve spent the whole week studying,
So let the gossiping begin!
The sales today were just THE BEST –
I got this tiny glittery vest,
Which works for me, cos when I’m out,
I hoik em up; there’s boys about!
Let’s get into the crux of it:
Do you all wax your lady bits?
And when you’re naked with a man,
Do you do EVERYTHING you can?
For pudding? Ice cream! Make it 2!
My friend will have a Malibu.
Then let’s go clubbing, drink some more,
But try to get to bed in four –
Tomorrow, MUST be up by two,
I’ve got an essay still to do.

I hate it when the evening ends
Cos nothing beats good times with friends.

2 – NOW (2018)

Dinner with the girls today,
So little time, so much to say!
We’ve spent the whole week parenting,
So let the gossiping begin!
The sales today were just THE BEST –
I got myself this thermal vest,
Which works for me, cos when I’m out,
I layer up; there’s flu about!
Let’s get into the crux of it:
Do you all wax your husbands’ bits?
And when you’re naked with your man,
Do you keep socks on if you can?
For pudding? Crumble. Gluten free.
My friend will have a cup of tea.
My goodness!! Is it half past ten?
I must be getting home again –
Tomorrow, MUST be up by
eight,
I’ve got the hall to decorate.

I hate it when the evening ends
Cos nothing beats good times with friends.

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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Big long German words

Some people say German is an ugly language, but I’ve always found it incredibly enjoyable to speak, wonderfully descriptive, and, at times, hilarious! Besides, writing this allowed me to spend some time rifling through my Duden German dictionary, which took me right back to the happy place of my student days.

So, if you’re ready for a bit of fun oral exercise…

Big long German words

Big long German words are such a banquet for the ears,
They’re scary on the page, but please, just set aside your fears!
For like those German vehicles we’ve taken to our hearts,
The perfect German word is made from perfect German parts.

“Staubsauger” means hoover, or a “sucker up of dust”,
A “Büstenhalter” is a bra, or “holder for the bust”,
“Liebestrunken” means besotted, “drunk or high on love”,
A “Handschuh” is “a shoe for hands” – you’ve got it, it’s a glove!

“Gluhbirne” means “glow pear”, or a lightbulb, as you guessed,
“Brustwarzen” are nipples, simply “warts upon the breast”,
“Fahrtrichtungsanzeiger”? Well, that won’t take much unravelling,
It’s an indicator, or a “thing that shows which way you’re travelling”.

“Nacktschnecke” means “naked snail” – a slug to me and you,
“Durchfall” – well, that’s diarrhoea, or “stuff that falls straight through”,
“Fallschirmspringerschule” is a parachuting school,
And it means “a school for jumpers with umbrellas for a fall”!

So that’s the way it works! You see, it’s not TOO big or clever,
You just work out all the little parts, then stick them back together,
And now you’ve got the basics nailed, you won’t get stuck again
On words like “Donaudampfschifffahrtsgesellschaftskapitän”!

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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You cannot beat a stick

My children have some great toys so  I feel a mixture of delight and slight irritation when they abandon them all for sticks.

No trip to a woodland, romp round a stately home, or quick pee in a layby is complete for my children without harvesting a stick. Gun-shaped sticks are among the most prized, although fights regularly break out over a good “staff”.

I am totally without scruples when it comes to disposing of them – however a 2 minute run round my house revealed the booty shown in the photograph. Yes. The sticks are winning.

You cannot beat a stick

Toy companies are pretty sly,
Their flashy ads are slick,
But still they cannot fathom why,
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If I open the Matchmakers, that will be it

Well, here we are, coming towards that end of that magical / terrible time between Christmas and New Year. Nearly time to contemplate the dull, saintly times that lie ahead and wave farewell to guilt-free scoffing. But just about time to open one last box of choccies… I mean it can’t do any harm…

If I open the Matchmakers, that will be it

Well then, my friends, it’s the end of December,
I’ve eaten more goodies than I can remember,
And left in the cupboard, one last chocolate hit,

If I open the Matchmakers, that will be it.

I’ve eaten the Roses, the After Eight Mints,
The Pringles, the Wine Gums, the Lindor by Lindt,
The time will soon come to (ugh) cut down a bit,

If I open the Matchmakers, that will be it.

I’ve eaten Fruit Pastilles, and hummus and brie,
And portions of pud that are too big for me,
My jeans are quite tight, but – yay – PJs still fit,

If I open the Matchmakers, that will be it.

So sod off, New Year, and the cry to “get fit”,
Cos naughty food’s yummy and healthy food’s shit.
But my stomach IS sticking out more that my tits…

I’ll open the Matchmakers. That will be it.

Honest.

©️ Nina Parmenter 2017

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I was a teen in the 1990s

Although my teenage years were the inevitable emotional rollercoaster (cheers for that, hormones), I was hardly the rebellious type. Through the rage and the tears (yep, again, nice one, hormones), I was generally content, and I put that down to three things: a supportive family, amazing friends (seen left, modelling some exemplary 90s fashion choices), and the awesome era in which we were living. I turned 13 just two weeks before the end of 1989 and so very nearly all of my teen years were spent in the 1990s, and my heart, and quite a lot of my music collection, still lie there today. The latter part of the decade was spent as a student, but this rhyme is really a tribute to the first five years, growing up in rural Somerset. It might not reflect your 1990s teenhood – but it very much reflects mine.

 

I was a teen in the 1990s

I was a teen in a golden era,
You know when I mean – it couldn’t be clearer,
The best years of all, and I don’t say it lightly,

I was a teen in the 1990s.

Firstly, my friends, just think of the fashion,
I think you’ll agree that we all looked smashing,
In red or green jeans, all wide at the knees,
Pendulous jumpers and cavernous tees,
Bright swirly leggings and big paisley shirts,
Huge tie dye t-shirts and ankle-length skirts,
Blanket-look jumpers all fringed at the hem,

And completing the look, what else but DMs?

Now modern-day music is pleasant enough,
But it doesn’t compare to the Wonderstuff,
James, The Stone Roses, The Charlatans, Suede,
We’d yell out the words as the Levellers played,
We were spoilt for choice when we fancied a dance,
There was Black Box and Shaggy and Snap and N-Trance,
And who could forget – the Rebel MC,

He rocked like a ninja! He stung like a bee!

Watching Blind Date and The Word on the box,
The birth of the email and bad alcopops,
Quoting the sketches from History Today,
Big games of rounders that 30 could play,
Pretty Woman on loop – I just wanted to BE her,
Shopping in Woolworths, Our Price and Athena,
And stuck on my wall, affixed with Blu-Tack,

Will Carling, Tom Cruise and, yum yum, Roger Black.

So today’s sorry teens must surely confess
That ours was the time that was simply the best,
Cos you’ve got your smartphones to point at your face,
But we had landlines and – oh yes – Ace of Base.

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2017

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The National Trust

I have a deep affection for the National Trust. With two energetic young boys, the weekend rule in our house is generally “anywhere but at home!” Our National Trust membership allows us to unleash them in some beautiful places, leaving our own house mostly unwrecked (although slightly more full of sticks) for one more precious day.

I think of the National Trust as a slightly eccentric great aunt, prone to lectures on the correct placement of cutlery, but also quite likely to slip me a boiled sweet or a couple of quid. So I hope this particular aunt doesn’t mind a bit of gentle ribbing.

 

The National Trust

The National Trust, The National Trust,
A mightier thing than all of us,
A fine institution, a positive force,
For a tenner a month, it can all be yours!
So we get in the car and head off for the day,
The brown signs of worthiness show us the way,
We head for the house – but I’ve got quite a thirst –

“Can we not go to the tearoom first?”

No – onwards! Past tapestries, teasets, a Titian,
A slightly tedious exhibition,
Cabinets, carpets and candelabras,
And a lovely lady, name of Barbara,
(A volunteer, reduced to tears,
By standing in one room for years)
She points at a pot! We all say “wow!

But can we go to the tearoom now?”

There are grounds all around, where there’s joy to be found,
In glorious nature, its sights and its sounds,
There are log piles to climb, and rope swings to hold on,
(It’s just like the park, only ten times more wholesome),
Rose gardens, rockeries, rippling rivers,
A small hairy man with his arrows and quiver,
Who gives us a go on his medieval bow –

But NOW is it time for the tearoom though?

Wait! Listen! YES! the clock strikes three,
The footsteps thunder – time for tea!
And mums, kids and grannies, all manners at bay,
Stampede for a spot in the Courtyard Café,
To toss back some tea, and scoff down some scones,
And snap up the shortbread before its all gone –
But where do we go once we’ve stuffed it all in?

LOOK! A shop full of chutney and artisan gin.

The National Trust, The National Trust,
A mightier thing than all of us,
A fine institution, a positive force,

For a tenner a month, this can all be yours.

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2017

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