A Cat's Christmas Eve! by yours truly - Merry Christmas.

There was a deep, deep silence all about the house,

Bar the crunching of the bones of a poor dead mouse.

The cat, she’d had fun, the chase had been long,

But the mouse was now eaten, even the tail was gone.

 

During her pursuit, baubles had been smashed,

The tree-topper dislodged, came down with a crash,

She’d torn all the crackers until they were shredded,

A large vase of flowers was now all deadheaded.

 

In spite of this destruction, she’d woken up no kids,

So settled down to sleep, was about to close her lids,

But then there was a noise, a grunt and a groan,

From the chimney it did come, this dulcet tone.

 

And just a minute later, two boots did appear,

Followed rather promptly by a sizable rear.

But with the room in ruins and full of detritus,

The cat thought, ‘HIDE! Better not let him find us’

 

But quick was dear old Santa, for he needed to be,

And seeing such destruction, and the fallen tree.

Cursed to himself and stared at the cat,

Before he drew a wand, from his big red hat.

 

He whispered very quietly and the tree was uprighted,

The baubles lights and crackers, were all reunited,

And happy with his work, he placed his gifts around,

The cat it seemed had scarpered, nowhere to be found.

 

So, Santa having finished fancied mince pies and cream,

But found the cat sat sitting and looking quite supreme.

She licked her lips all delicate, appearing very happy,

And said to Santa in ‘Meow’, that he had better hurry.

 

Santa saw the clock and gave the cat a wink,

Was up and out the chimney before she’d even blinked.

And with a Ho, Ho, Ho, he shouted his goodbye,

As the reindeers and his sleigh, zoomed off into the sky.

 

So, everything was silent, all about the house,

But . . . WAIT, WHAT . . .!

Was that the squeak of another mouse?

Spring, book review. (Ali Smith)

Well, this is a strange one because, let’s face it, I have bemoaned many an author before for being lazy with the time honoured tradition of using the comma, speech-marks and the full stop where appropriate and, when lacking I become somewhat distracted which, for me, spoils the experience but here, Ali Smith's writing style has such a sense of freedom to it, unshackled by those conventions and structures that it just works. Strange!
So, in honour of this damned right annoyance having been nothing more than a slight irritation, I shall fill you in on all things Spring.
Spring does not start it germinates. It germinates from Winter but the only connection between the books is the author's name on the cover, so you can read the seasons in any order you wish.
Spring is about loss, the loss of a friend; a best friend and onetime lover, for Paddy is dead, gone, and for Richard, who has known her, loved her, worked with her for decades, there seems little reason to carry on. With his ex-wife and daughter estranged he might as well just crawl under the train that’s arrived in the remote Scottish station and wait for it to roll.
Spring is about Florence, a schoolgirl with amazing powers, powers of persuasion. A schoolgirl who walks into a brothel and out again without hurt or trauma, whilst emancipating the ‘workers’. A girl who rescues her mother from a high security detention centre for illegal immigrants saves Richard and travel the country with impunity without payment or service.
Spring is about detention, immigration, power and our inability as a nation to truly comprehend the trauma, fear, pain, anguish and steadfast resolve those who have fled their countries have really gone through to get here, but when Brittany meets Florence and they travel to Scotland and save Richard and met Alda – not her real name as she too is illegal – and Florence and Alda disappear, it focuses the mind, Richard’s in particular.
Spring is a time for regeneration, life to bloom, death to be celebrated, be it the death of winter or Paddy’s death, and Richard is rejuvenated, he has a new project: Immigration, and he’s filming again, working, he’s found meaning.
This book is a charming, scary, slightly surreal experience that has an almost poetic flow to the narrative that has you not only flicking forward to see how things materialise but back to check you've made sense of it all and Spring, be it the book or the season, are so full of delights I can recommend them both. Be out, get out, come rain - which we have a lot of in England - or shine, and enjoy it, them, life, the memories of those who have passed, and read; read this, Spring, but read that too, the one you’ve been putting off the one you loved as a child, the one you didn’t read but should have and revel in beginnings.
Three and a half stars.

Don't forget to search my blog for your favourite authors and books and if I haven't read them, message me with your recommendations.

Herts & Minds anthology is launching on Wednesday 11th December 2019

If you like ghosts, ghouls, and Werewolves, the beauty of the English/Hertfordshire countryside, a wandering cat cast in bronze, that comes alive by night, historical fiction, death by dangerous driving, poetry, or a good old fashioned crime drama, then you're going to love the Hertford Writers' Circle 2019 anthology, Herts & Minds.

From our home town of Hertford to New York, from the slave trade to murder, from Welwyn to the remotest corner of Ireland, this book will take you there and further.

Packed with dramatic stories about snakes, flowers, aliens, bullying, a dystopian Hertford, and finding a corpse in the boot of your car, we've got it all, and you could too if you are in Hertford on the night of the 11th December (Wednesday) and would like to join us at the books official launch (7:30 pm, Courtyard Arts, Port Vale, Hertford, SG14 3AA) but if you are not, if you hail from further afield but would like to purchase a copy - for yourself, a friend or for Christmas - just message me in the comments or via my Amazon author account and I'll make sure a copy wings its way over to you as soon as possible.
For an exclusive extract from this anthology, visit my blog again on Christmas Eve, for I will be posting, The Sprout that Ruined Christmas, which I may also read at the launch if I feel brave enough.
Enjoy.