Summer Dig

The paddock is still pitted with the evidence

of a nine-year-old’s attempt at archaeology.

Eleven years later,

bits of the broken crockery dug up hang about,

next to the oil tank, the bbq, inside the shed,

reminders of how we sifted through sand.

 

We were going to match time-team.

Discover the half-complete ruins

of an ancient civilisation’s round house.

Even now the most that’s been found

is one, dusty, bent up spoon

Dad brought in with him to the house.

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For a while I wanted to be an archaeologist when I grew up, so The Overgrown Garden became a dig site for myself and my younger sister who I roped into help me with the shovel work. I’m still hugely interested in the past, something that comes across to anyone who’s had the unfortunate experience of starting up any conversation with me pertaining to medieval/early modern history. I did also want to be an architect for a while, until I realised that it would take seven years and even then I wouldn’t be designing buildings like Bath Abbey, or Notre Dame, so really what was the point?

Anywho… thank you to DVerse for the opportunity to final work this spoon into one of my posts. I’ve been trying to work out how to use it on Writing And Works since I came downstairs and discovered it on the kitchen window sill. Not that unusual really. My dad tends to pick up random bits and bobs from the fields as he works. [Farmer with an interest in history. I take after him with the history, not so much with the farming.]

You Think Me Old?

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(Image Source)

“You think me old?” asked the man whose folds could tell you of booted feet in bog soaked trenches, too numb from cold to tell when the rot set in.

“You think me old?” asked the man who’d watched women in polka dot men twirl on the arms of boys not fated to come home again.

“You think me old?” asked the man who’d once held books with more care than that which he’d showed to the new born babe passed from his wife’s arms. The man who matched each title to the lines etched in his face and called each new one a moment more of knowledge.

“You think me old?” asked the man. “I am as old as what I have learnt, and what is left for me to learn marks me but a babe.”

Pokemon invade sixth form

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We all have that one friend (or for some of us those few friends) who cannot fail to make us laugh. When one of your best friends turns up to lessons dressed as a Pokemon there us little that will then spoil your mood.
These are the people who make is realise why life is quite so fantastic and why I always remember that no matter how mad my writing seems, real life can always beat it.