In memory of a death

AAAAAEEEEEIIIII!! When on Tuesday a whole swathe of conservative MPs stood with labour to approve a motion against their own government, I knew democracy had died in this country. The bid for freedom has failed and our country is trapped in the eternal cell of the EU. I can no longer listen to the news, it is too depressing. I continue to work virtually full time, and walk the dogs, and listen to music. Last night we watched all the repeats of Extras to try and cheer ourselves up.

4th September

today she died
her voice muted
as is her smile
buried are her odd sayings
almost lost now
recollections rusty
memories musty
not easy to connect
an hour, day, week
when she was near,
she is dead
and now it is as if
she was never here

Annie Elliott 

Ann's new poem is a tribute to her mother, for yesterday marked the anniversary of her death in 1976, so long ago, yet never forgotten. The poem stands, surely, as a testament to all our parents and the friends we have lost. Though memories fade, the trace of the person exists through Ann and MA, the granddaughter Violet never knew, and beyond them through MA's daughters, and before Ann the ancestors we have traced back on the female side for so many generations.

On a lighter note, Edwin left for Italy yesterday for a week in the sun at Naples. He is going Airbnd to an apartment they have rented with a garden roof terrace, where they plan to have cocktails. Because he and Alice will be self-catering, he took a huge packet of gluten-free spaghetti in his luggage. Surely taking pasta to Italy must be the modern version of taking coals to Newcastle.