Monthly Archives: October 2015

Tell Me About It

Britannia Square DIY 150930

Don’t tell me of your life, your loves, your woes,
Or darkest thoughts; nor should you presuppose
That’s how it is, that’s how the story goes.

It’s all made up, invented, I propose.
A poor imagination’s what it shows –
Don’t tell me of your life in boring prose.

For once you start your tale it grows and grows;
There’s little sense of hope – it’s just a pose.
And so it goes, that’s how your story flows.

You miss the highs and concentrate on lows:
The worst of times, when you have come to blows
With people in your life, your friends, your foes.

To spin your tale, remember that you chose
What to include, and what to juxtapose –
You’ve lost the plot; that’s how the story goes.

And telling it won’t bring you to a close.
Excuse my yawns, I feel the need to doze.
Don’t tell me of your life, your loves, your woes –
That’s how it is, how every story goes.

© 2015 Peter Young

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When the Music Ended

Piano Keyboard Fur Elise 151019A

At last, she’s gone. Peace once more. When you look closely, not everything has disappeared. The dent where the bust of Schubert had smashed into the kitchen wall. Which was quite a feat, considering it been launched from the bay window in the music room. And all the scratches and missing paint along the hallway and the paint chipped from the front door – it must have been a struggle getting the Broadwood out. I’m glad I wasn’t around to help. I suppose she got her mates from the orchestra – that beefy chap who plays the trombone. And the bass player. You need to have a bit of muscle to lug one of those around.

But they’d taken everything else – perhaps in spite, or plain vindictiveness. I never liked her taste in furnishings, so no great loss – all those music notation-themed prints: a bunch of semiquavers and triplets get tedious – clichéd and always incorrect. There was no good reason for the toast-rack to be shaped like a treble clef.

There had come a point when Für Elise would drive anyone mad, especially when you had heard it, wrong notes and all, for the thirtieth time of a morning. But it was definitely troppo when the string quartet joined in. All that scraping and plinking – even the cat had sought refuge out in the back garden, or beyond. And then they’d huddle, poring over the score. Or that’s what they wanted it to look like from my position by the kettle, always on hand to keep them topped up with teas and coffees. They must have always been on a caffeine high to play like they did – with so little concern for the audience – in this case, me. I tried earplugs, but then I’d been attacked for insulting the guests, and for not hearing their orders for refreshments.

It didn’t take long to get through all the clean mugs. They put them under their chairs where I couldn’t easily get at them, so when I tried, I’d knock over their music stands, sheet music all over the floor.

But now the floor has only the deep indent of the piano castors; something to remember her by. Although that’s not the problem; it’s that tune I can’t get out of my head: Da-da da-da da-da da-da-dum …

© 2015 Peter Young

This was a writing exercise for the Creative Writing group last Friday.
•    You walk into your house and it’s completely different. The furniture is all changed and there’s no one at home.
Thanks to Cranes Music of Worcester for letting me photograph the piano.

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Autumn Sunrise at Croome Park

Sunrise over Croome River

Sunrise over Croome River

Sunrise over Croome Lake

Sunrise over Croome Lake

© 2015 Peter Young

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Sheep

Sheep at the Chinese BridgeA short-sighted sheep reading the notice at the Chinese Bridge at Croome Park.

Other photos of the Chinese Bridge  are to be found on my blogs for July 3rd and June 7th.

(Click on the image to enlarge: you need to be able to read the notice.)

© Peter Young 2015

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