I nearly bit my tongue off

When you asked me questions

Of no meaning, no substance

Forced like unwanted suggestions

About where to eat, what to do

How to travel, when to move

Staring over the barrel of a deceased coca cola

Eyes ploughing into me like needles

My responses grew weary and feeble

Conversation like too much hard work

From the very start

And tiptoing into the twilight hours

A train ride that should have been hushed

A meal that made me blush

A sentence too many that was more than enough

How can I stand to be me

When a day out is just pain

And I’m the only one to blame

My ineptitudes, my shortcomings

My overactive brain

With its excruciating bubblings.

The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

Today on Gran Canaria, it rained something fierce.

Blouses and trousers shook on the clothes lines and were left sodden, stretched and hanging.

I prayed for them not to break loose and fly away. Knickers would be strewn across the pavement, bras caught on flag poles next to a sea of red and yellow and socks crouching in dirt-ridden gutters. Thankfully the pegs stood strong.

Children came to school with giant overcoats and umbrellas, ready for an indoor break time and the rescheduling of after-school stuff. They said their match was cancelled, so why wasn’t English?

I couldn’t really explain why.

Hotel buffet blues 

At the start of every day

I say

I’m going to be a vegetarian. 

But then one sweaty Sunday

A hotel buffet calls,

Rows of striped bacon, fluffy eggs

And spongey sausages which flutter 

Down my gullet…

I saunter up for a third helping

Delights piled high on the plate,

A leaning tower of meaty Pisa.

Let’s stuff ourselves to the brim

More so now than we’ve ever done 

Because it’s free of course,

Gotta get that dollar’s worth

Even though the bacon fat

Will choke our hearts. 

Thirteen glasses of orange juice 

And a bucket of coffee later

I’m nauseatingly full.

With a ketchup-stained mouth

And greasy fingers

I swear not to do it again

Hotel buffets are a blessing and a curse

For those with never-ending stomachs. 

The day I got pummelled by a wave 

The waves crash around my ankles in a desperate display of purple fury
Each and every one poised for a destructive landing

A very violet sandstorm. 

Wading in to be whipped, my body tenses

Feet tapping and drifting away from the ocean’s disgruntled bed

One of them finds me, sizes me up, and then punches my body with its crackling foam

Knocked onto the sand, bikini bursts and breasts fall open 

I bounce from grain to grain, submerged and breathless, au bout de souffle, 

Steadying myself, my feet fight with the monstrous current

Metres from the shore feels like miles.

Boob readjusted, wedgie loosened, the sea retreats and oxygen invades

I stumble out of the deathly surf like a drunken banshee woman

Withering like a rose, wobbling like jelly.