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Saturday, 10 March 2012

Lurgy and Turkey

I’m in the process of recovering from a bout of one of those stomach bugs that strikes without warning and provides an uninvited detox, a ruthlessly efficient purge of the system to put any health kick to shame. The house reeks of the delightful combination of bleach and febreeze with which I’ve doused every inch in the hope of eliminating all traces of the traumas recently passed. Solid food is making a hesitant but welcome return and with it energy and the ability to stay awake for more than an hour.

Fortunately the lurgy didn’t strike until Thursday, so I was able to make this week’s Leeds Savages writing meet. I hadn’t managed to complete anything on theme (‘A New Start’ being the topic of choice, and one on which I have more than a few ideas that i’ll try to put to paper soon), however the five minute writing task at the beginning of the meet resulted in the following random little piece – the subject was ‘It was cold’ and inspired a variety of weird and wonderful stories and poems. This effort is neither but quite fun!

IT WAS COLD in the gloom
Of the ice encrusted tomb
Where Boris came to take his final rest
Frozen with claustrophobic fear
Too bitter to shed a tear
Or voice the horror in his increasingly icy breast.
Only yesterday morn at the crack of dawn
He’d been running ‘round without a single care
A quick wring of his collar and Boris was a goner
And soon they’d plucked him bare.
He always knew it was his duty
As a much vaunted thirty pound beauty
To come to such a tragic Shakespearian fate
And come December’s winter chill
He’d inevitably be topping the bill
The prize turkey on the honoured Christmas plate.

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