Birthday me

My birthday is slightly buried under a pile of wedding stuff this year; digging it out, I find it of more sombre hue than usual. Tonight we dine at a Japanese restaurant ( larians won't tell me which one) and rather than a big present today, my hope is to find something in Africa. Exciting!

The sombre hue? The whole Brexit thing and its ramifications remain peculiarly upsetting. Brexit friends do not quite see it; their tendency is to write it  off as upset at losing, and there has been effort made to reassure me that nothing has changed...we are all still friends, it's just like an election, win some lose some.  We are still nice democratic people,and fair's fair. The racist stuff is just a few awful people who were always like that anyway.

The way it feels is like having an alcoholic uncle with a history of being abusive in his cups.  He kicks the booze, and becomes a pleasant character for decades, then  one night you find him drunk as a skunk, sneering and screaming at a roomful of guests, and a cursory search reveals all the bottles hidden round the house. Being now a favoured niece does not make it easier to be around this character; the fact that he likes me does not make me like him any more. If he can't kick the habit, I certainly don't want to live in his house.

And some say: 'Yes, but he doesn't own the house.'
My answer is; 'What part of the house do you keep him out of?'

But in any case,time and thought will determine reaction. The Tory party are about to elect us a prime minister to whom the electorate has given no mandate, yet there is nary a murmur about this lack of democratic process; it's only a problem when perceived as European.

My birthday doesn't feel special this year, because other unique events are occurring, But that's OK, it doesn't always need to be the biggest thing. Today I shall work, then I'll go have a good time.

(no subject)

What it is to be like me
 to fly
And see the islands in the bay
And skim the ocean foam
And what it is to learn from ancient roots
 Knowing the winds will take you home
Oh what it is to never yet go home.

What it is to be like me
to feel
Each chocopop that melts on a hot day
Each breath of rain
Each insect seeking sweet gold in the sun
And never losing anything again
And never finding anything again.

What it is to be like me
to be
Under the speckled moon
Run through the sky
With earth and stars to play the ancient game
Of live and die and live and die
Learning to live and die and live and die.

This is my birthday poem. It is neither artful nor complete, but it's a map.