No really, I’m not just taking the piss, nor am I trying to diss any poets or poetry in general. I was once invited to an evening of “pooetry” where I believe the theme of the evening was to do with matters scatological, but I wasn’t able to go – no pun intended. And I digress.
I am quite up to my eyes in sheets of paper and poetry (mine) as I am storming into Lent trying to get stuff out before the end of the week. Don’t ask why it has to be before the end of the week, some of us have deadlines to meet. This makes me sound quite important, but in fact no-one but me will give a stuff if I don’t meet the deadline. I am not only up against Time, but a whole batch of poems (what actually is the collective noun for poems that are not yet in a collection?) that still need a fair amount of work doing to them. I don’t know how this can be, they seemed quite fine when I last looked at them, but this is how poems behave if they are left lying around for too long.
And then there is Lent. You will remember that last year I put myself into self-imposed Poetry Boot Camp because it was either that or give up chocolate. I know that Lent is supposed to be all about giving something up, but what I say is that as long as it hurts it counts. So this year I will be doing Poetry Boot Camp and giving up chocolate – not to mention the cigs that have unaccountably crept back in (I blame Daughter of Signs, the Icemaiden and TPE and is it my fault that what Dennis Potter so accurately called “lovely tubes of delight” are bad for my cholesterol levels?).
I would very much like Cat of Signs to take on a Lenten restriction but she has never shown much religious inclination, or inclination of any kind that does not fit with whatever she fancies doing at any given moment. The lovely nurse at the vet’s encouraged me to get a new kind of clay cat litter to encourage her to stop pissing in inappropriate places. She likes it so much that she has quite given up going outside to do her more serious business, and she is not particular about whether the serious business goes squarely into the litter tray or flops over the side and onto the floor. She has also decided that the kitchen sink is a fun place to have the occasional recreational piss. I have been told that if there is no urinary infection then we will have to address Behavioural problems. What am I supposed to do – find her a Shrink? Something tells me she would crap on the idea of CBT.