In the bleak midwinter?

As I said in my previous post, I could do without winter - and quite happily hibernate from autumn to spring!  But I think even hibernating animals wake occasionally, and I'd certainly rouse myself for Christmas get-togethers - it's good to have the opportunity for catch-ups with people you rarely see during the rest of the year.

One Christmas get-together we've already had this year was last Friday's New Bohemians party night. I haven't been able to make many of their sessions this year and it was a most enjoyable evening. Seasonal music, mulled wine and mince pies and some hugely entertaining limericks about poets written and performed by Robin Gilbert and Roger Turner really got us into the mood; David Clarke's poetry quiz both amused and floored us - OK, we all knew the author of the excerpt from "A Child's Christmas In Wales", but would you recognise a picture of Sharon Olds wearing a Father Christmas outfit?! Some great contributions in the open mic as always. New Bohemians goes from strength to strength and next year's programme sounds really promising too. 

Robin limericking

A seasonally decked Alison Brackenbury

The weekend brought my pet hates of the winter through - thick snow and freezing temperatures. Perhaps you heard Helen Mort on Radio 4 yesterday talking about seasonal poetry and why snow in particular has inspired so many poets (myself included - see below!). After the coldest night of the year here and pavements like ice rinks outside this morning, I think I'm hunkering down for the day; there's more than enough work on the desk. 

Child's Play

Mouldering leaves beneath

fog smothered lamps,

snow shrouded streets, 

ponds in rigor mortis - 

winter is trigger-happy,

a small boy pointing a stick,

"Bang, bang - you're dead!"

But, come the spring,

it's time to go home for tea.

His victims jump up, resurrected,

laughing at the absurd game

he won't play again

until next December.

(Copyright Gill Garrett 2015)