Figgis is home from Blackpool and has settled in very well. My shingles are still shingling which isn't very well. The chickens are laying prolifically so very well but Fifi isn't very well. All the cats and dogs are very well but the emptying of Colin isn't going very well because we aren't very well. I'm sure we'll get well soon.
Figgis' eyelids
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ARTISTE
There was a notion
That she had no emotion.
So, crossing that floor
And setting great store
By each and every peachy kiss blown as she ascends the stage,
The joy enters her heart at making a start.
It's sudden, this tearing of the heartstrings,
this pulling out of the rabbit.
It could be too late to make her date with destiny later,
rather than the alligator of possibility
as the jaws slam shut on the trap she's just avoided,
to great clamour, or the fall of the hammer
(that stopped her stammer).
For she'd been a girl so tongue-tied that
success had flown in the face of all expectation.
Her ration of life had seemed all but drained.
The strain shown in her face on dull days
till, walking, she'd caught a ball and thrown it back,
causing such joy she'd decided there and then.
So, the nights became her play pen.
Thrown back and to, to and fro,
rolled into a ball and exalted,
expelled from a glass tank under gallons of water --
little daughter waiting at home sees her dry her hair later.
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