Monday, November 19, 2007

A Roar and a Whimper

I have been honoured and bestowed with a Shameless Lions award for "Powerful Words" which I am proud to add to the collection of trophies on my sidebar, particularly as it comes from House of Pants whose lovely poems I have just been reading in Obsessed With Pipework. Funnily enough, I had just decided to subscribe to this on the strength of the name alone, before I even knew that House of Pants was in it (and hers are the first three poems). This is, of course, a Sign – of what, I don’t know and really, one can’t be expected to do everything. Reading the signs does not necessarily mean interpreting them (though I do sometimes have a stab at it). Enough just to know a Sign when one appears, and to trust that all will unfold in the fullness of time.

But where were we? Roaring words. I haven’t made so much as a squeak on the blog for a while but have been bleating elsewhere, in shocking pink notebook to be specific. Being somewhat more than usual energy-challenged, I’ve only had the wherewithal to do one or the other, and the other won out. But don’t think I haven’t missed you all or that there haven’t been loads of things I’ve been telling you – in my head, that is. Just to prove that this is true, here is a snap from a recent trip to Homebase.

I was having another Stepford Wife Moment and thought, I must show them this. I had so much to say about it too but you’ll just have to take my word for it and try and imagine what it is I had to say because it’s all gone now – wiped. That’s what happens if you don’t get the words out quick as they come, you see. They bugger off. All I know is that at the time – Wednesday evening of last week, to be precise (which for some unaccountable reason I feel it behoves me to be) – I had returned to Homebase with one of their standing lamps that was so hideous when unboxed, and so defiant of being assembled into anything resembling the picture on the box that decided I could not give it houseroom for one minute longer. I looked at the Christmas tinsel and the lights, took in the fact that I was the only punter in the store and was brought to my knees. Take me now, I said to no-one in particular, but there may have been an angel at my side and you can see the brush of its wings in the bottom right hand corner, or I may have been struck by a combination of unearthly fatigue and opioid prescription drugs. Reader, no-one came. So I stood up, got a bag full of slow-burning tea lights and lived to do another blog post.

I thank you.


Kahless said...

WOW; no people. Bliss indeed. :-)

And another award; congratulations!

Gael said...

Congrats on your award. Very glad you've not been carried off just yet.
I think I've mentioned before that in a previous life I worked for Homebase (even wore the hallowed dungarees and clip on hessian tie for a while)and was regularly brought to my knees - and not in a good way. I saw the light and switched horses, now get to spend a damp November day working in a cosy study surrounded by books and papers drinking coffee and eating chocolate... no contest.

Reading the Signs said...

Hi Kahless, I know we are still neck and neck but I'm not counting - until someone gives me the prize money.

Hi Gael, perhaps this is the particular speciality of the store - bringing people to their knees. Hallelujah for you seeing the light.

cusp said...

Yes I know what you mean about this experience. I often refer to going to Tesco on a Sunday (a thankfully rare occurence) as 'Visiting the Temple' --- such is the concentration and look of awe and wonder on the little faces of Mr and Mrs Consumer as they pick up, dither, cogitate and then select something like Toilet Duck for consumption.

I'm convinced that Tesco and the like are The New Church and that one day, alongside the Costa Coffee Bar, there will be a little rail with little cushions on the floor next to it in blue and red and white where one might kneel down and thank the Good Lord Shopping.

Quelle experience humbling.


Anonymous said...

You do have powerful way with words - your words always do seem to have a roar to them, no matter their size, their intent. They do more than "squeak."

I like the idea of a an angel looking over you during this, gently guiding you along. Either way, I am thankful you have written again.

Have a glorious week.

Reading the Signs said...

David, one way or anotherI'm always bumping into angels - and losing marbles.

Happy Thanksgiving!

That's so pants said...

Hi Signs

Glad you enjoyed OWP and Pants's contribution to same. It is a good name, isn't it?

Lucky you for finding an empty shop at this time of year. It would never happen in London - as I'm sure you'll remember.



Anonymous said...

you are such a great writer - wit and wisdom and a way with words that refreshes me. Did you really sink to your knees? I mean, physically. Relax with candlelight and I will think of you. I could well be brought to my knees here if I dwell to long on where I am - some empty university where the only sound in this very large hall is these keys clicking and the electrical drone of a pc - on my knees I would be but just thinking of you writing words that somehow have the power to infuse me with - yes - there is good in the world - there is soul - there is a woman burning a candle and composing a poem in her head...

Reading the Signs said...

Hi Pants, I entertain the fantasy that these places empty themselves of people when they get wind of my approach. And then the angels move in.

Anonymous, thank you for your kind words. Writing does refresh soul, in my experience - and language can. I have found that, particularly when reading poetry.

Did I sink to my knees? Well yes, literally - in my imagination at any rate. And as I saw the gesture it carried, for me, a double meaning.