Pretending to be Northumbrian for St George's Day

14th April is a special date for me. It is the date on which I moved to Northumberland after 14 years in Wales. I got all the furniture into a Pickford's van, locked the front door on our house in Port Talbot, dropped the key off at the estate agents and took a National Express Coach to Newcastle -- for good! Big stuff!!! Noel met me at Strawberry Lane and that evening we went to The Tandoor Mahal for a meal. Our furniture caught up with us after Easter when moved into a lovely house in the grounds of St Mary's Stanningtom where Noel was working.That was 24 years ago. I have now lived in Morpeth longer than anywhere else -- so I'm pretending to be Northumbrian now.

Last night The Morpeth Poetry Recital Group helped us celebrate by joining in with gusto on my poem George and the Stobhill Worme. Thanks everyone who read a part and Margaret Kerswell for being such a good dragon and to the audience for their hisses and boos. It was great! I am told I won a raffle token for the ICEBAR too. I love icecream!

There is a video of the poem but you have to be a member of the group to see it.

There were bright books.

there was song.

There was Verner and Adrian as the Squire and the Thane

There were hisses and there was booze

There were even farts and poos!

and there was charity of course. We raised the roof and £50.

and

The ICE BAR is C O O L

The Almost Silent Converation -- a poem of pictures + a Whiplington called Ruby

At Belsay House and Gardens there is colour all year round

but spring is a feast of sight and scents and sound. 

Imagine a constant buzzing of bees

a flitting of waspy things and hover flies. 

Imagine that high pitched chiff-chaff-chiff-chaff-chiff 

and the drill of the woodpecker and the screigh 

of pheasants echoing round quarry walls. 

Imagine dappled sun light shifting 

under new leaf and in and out of shade, 

the smell of damp lichens after rain, the scent

the wonder of the waxy yellow bog lily's flower

the gunneras which grow bigger hour on hour 

a thousand daffodils wafting in light breeze

the peppery nose-pricking breath of flowering blackcurrant its  

dangle of pink blooms all a-buzz with bees, 

Listen for new lambs calling for their ma-a-a-a-a-a. 

Sit yourself down in early spring sunshine and take it in

 -- the almost silent conversation that is Belsay in April.

This is a lovely doggy we met with her lovely owners. I had never seen this cross before -- whippet and Bedlington Terrier -- a gorgeous cross I am sure you'll agree. It was lovely to meet you, Ruby.x