Orange Peel

If a peel can ride on a citrus wheel

How do oranges write on peel?

A pip may owe its life to a zest

But why do oranges peel from a vest?

Oranges may win at a game of squash

But do zests have an orange crush?

When a citrus over tips

Does a peel give a pip?

While a citrus jives on the dance floor

Should a zest sing to an orange core?

As an orange surfs on peel

Is a pip waving to an eel?

Zest, zests a zesty peel

Pip, pips a pipping peel

Peel, peels a peeling peel

Revealing orange peel.

Do You Have Writers' Cramp?

In December my new short story 'Writers' Cramp' featured in Issue 5 of the Ironic Fantastic magazine, edited by my friend and fellow writer Paulo Brito, based in Portugal. In this story, dedicated to my friend Brian, there is a mystery to be solved in the writers' block when artist Little Miss Malaprop gets herself in a muddle and goes missing.

I took inspiration from all my many talented writer friends who have always encouraged me to develop my writing and poetry. Considering I write for fun, having this support from many established writer friends means a lot to me and it was only natural for me to write a short story about writers that I hope they will all find amusing.

From Europe to Australia,  there are an eclectic range of established and new international writers, illustrators and poets featured in this issue, so it is an honor for me to be published with them all and I was pleased to see some of my good friends featured too - it is a pleasure to be able to be part of something creative with all of them.

As some of you know, I am a big supporter of promoting local talent across the Arts and over recent years the freedom to self-publish on the web has opened many doors to independent writers, artists and publishers. Today many creatives can collaborate and share their exciting talent without being stifled by bureaucracy, or controlled by the giant corporate wheel.

Issue 5 of the Ironic Fantastic is free to download.  A taster of all the wonderful stories and poems featured by all the amazing international contributors can be seen in the contents table photo I have posted above. I hope you will all enjoy reading this magazine over the festive season.

I would like to end this post by wishing everyone a wonderful Christmas break and a sparkly new year - see you all for a cat's tongue wag in 2016!

Placebo Bring A Sense Of Belonging To London

"Would you write a review of Placebo for Frouctor, a new Arts Review magazine I recently launched in Athens?"

This was the question asked by the talented artist and good friend George (that's what I call him) from Greece, who also lives in London. Well how could I refuse this challenge given Placebo are one of my favourite bands that I have seen live many times both here in the UK and Europe over the last 20 years since they formed at Goldsmith's College.

The Placebo review is currently being translated into Greek and will feature in the third issue of Frouctor magazine, to be distributed across Athens in the next few weeks.  As I only speak English and Spanish, the translation of my Placebo review will be Greek to me, so I am letting my blog readers have a preview of the Placebo gig review I wrote in advance ... and in English. Enjoy!

Placebo Bring A Sense Of Belonging To London 

Twenty years was not on the play list when Placebo performed at the sold-out Hammersmith Apollo show in March. Formed in the summer of 1995 in London, Brian Molko's unique and piercing voice had not lost any of it's bite. But for those fans expecting a nostalgic crowd-pleasing trip through the six-piece band's seven-album back catalogue, they will have been disappointed. The play list leaned towards the future rather than the past, with the bulk of the set list focusing on the band's latest 2013 release 'Loud Like Love'.

A lively ecstatic crowd applauded as Placebo, dressed all in black, stepped out on stage as the P.A. pumped out the backing track of the spine-tingling remix of 'Pure Morning' vs Sigur Ros' 'Svefn-g-englar'. A sea of fists could be seen bobbing up and down in the air as Placebo kicked off the evening with their electro alt-rock track B3, followed by shaking up the crowd's senses with 'For What It's Worth'.

It was a brave move by Placebo to risk losing casual fans with a top heavy new material set list. Had the band taken the nostalgia approach and played more of the older songs from a decade ago, there was a risk that the newer material would have appeared more one dimensional and faded into the background. Although the edgy belter 'Scene Of The Crime' ignited a surge of emotion amongst the crowd on the night, the latest material would not have been edgy enough to compete against a set list filled with older, more established grunge and industrial electronic influenced songs that carry the trademark sound that is Placebo at their best. The gamble paid off.

Classics such as 'Every You Every Me', 'Special Needs', the drug-induced track 'Special K' and closing track 'The Bitter End' will never tire but there was no looking back for the group. Twenty years on Brian Molko's voice has not lost its unmistakable stretched tone and on the night was just as powerful as the band delivering the music. There was a feeling of belonging by Placebo's lost legion of forever faithful fans, with a sense of relief knowing that Placebo will always be their band.

'Begin the End' seemed appropriate to set the scene for the band's four-song encore but it was the long-standing cover of Kate Bush's 'Running up that Hill' that gripped the crowd with its explosive electronics and deceptive uneasy sharp tones that Molko brings to life and makes his own. The group close with 'Post Blue' and the 'Infra-Red' from Meds. With a theatrical bow Placebo exit after sharing the highs and lows of their vast career and delivering a glorious performance that is a reminder of the scope of their brilliance. Placebo are loud as love and have left a taste of what we can expect from this London-based band over the next twenty years.

My Father's Rosebud

My Father in 1944

Today marks the second anniversary of my father's passing.

After work I attended a Choral Evensong at London's historic Southwark Cathedral, near the River Thames and nestled opposite the City's oldest station, London Bridge. I was 43 when my dad departed and visiting this Gothic oasis of calm, was the perfect setting to celebrate my father today and light a candle to remember my time spent with this amazing man, who was the perfect gentleman, father and hero to all his grandchildren.

Perching myself on a seat at the back of the Cathedral I was captivated by the singing, which not only was angelic and enchanting but also brought a tear to my eye. I left before the end as the beauty of my Gothic surroundings began to make me reflect on my late father and overwhelmed me but in a good way. I was glad I decided to take my work colleagues suggestion and visit this hub of calmness to celebrate my father.

The poem I wrote last year, entitled simply, 'To My Father', celebrated the life of my father and was published in e-book series  The Ironic Fantastic # 2, which is free to download.

This year I have written a new poem, which focuses on my childhood memories of my father, called Rosebud, the name my dad called me as a little girl. I hope you enjoy it.

In memory of my father, Edward Douglas Duffin (9th June 1929 - 28th January 2013).

RIP My Beautiful Father xxx

Rosebud

Born on Van Diemen's Land, where Australian devils roam,

Watching African black rhinos play on the Serengeti plain,

Racing in an Indonesian becak to avoid the Monsoon,

Bathing Sigiriyan elephant orphans in Sri Lanka,

Kipper tie and back scratcher claws, 

Bugle horn and a countryside run,

Listening to Pendle witch stories,

Childhood memories,

Shared with my father. 

Remembering The Homeless This Christmas

With just over a week to go until Christmas Day, my thoughts have turned to those people less fortunate, who may be spending their Christmas sleeping rough, relying on the hospitality of charities for their festive meal and drop in centres for temporary shelter to keep warm,  if they are luck enough to secure a bed.

Earlier this year I too experienced financial hardship for a few months and was struggling to pay my mortgage. This was on top of dealing with emotional turmoil following the first anniversary of my dad's death back in January, followed by the breakdown of a relationship in February which ended badly and not helped by a chain of events that followed. This all had a huge negative impact on me at the time. Things happened that I could never of predicted and planned for in advance. But I managed to get through that dark period, highlighting a inner strength that sometimes we don't know we have hidden deep inside. 

I now work as a contractor, earning more as a freelancer than I ever have before and the turmoil of the first half of 2013 is firmly behind me for now. But I will always remember the experience and it has taught me a lot about self-survival.  Through hard times we may lose a lover or two and shed a few friends but as a result we fight on and become stronger. We attract the right people who bring positives rather than negatives into our lives. 

So, as Christmas Eve draws closer, lets be thankful for what we have in our lives now, our health, a roof over our heads, a job, family and friends and reflect on those people who don't have these things we take for granted in their lives and have no choice but to sleep rough on our streets.  

Below is a poem I wrote in September after my own personal experiences of financial hardship and following a trip to a art gallery one lunchtime at work to view an exhibition of dog drawings, sketched by a talented artist who was sleeping rough on the streets of London with his beloved pet.

Homeless

The world seems so small as I look at your feet,

I sleep on cardboard, each day struggling to eat,

Lovers and friends gone, I see my family no more,

No shoes to walk in, my feet swollen and sore,

Your footsteps are cannons, you blow me out,

Everyone's a critic, what are you all about?

I look up in thirst as you spit on the ground.

You pat my dog but don't drop me a pound.

I am a nobody to you, I can see it in your eyes,

But once I was a somebody, is that a surprise?

A job in the City, a house in the countryside,

I dream of survival as I sleep with my pride.

I draw on experiences, canvases filled with strife,
Artwork on gallery walls, an ambition of life.
Money in my pocket, a room for the night,
I will always remember you, a future so bright.

A Community Spirit Lives On In W7

The memory of Alice Gross lives on in Hanwell

The second largest manhunt took place since the  7/7 London bombings when a 14-year-old local Hanwell girl, Alice Gross, went missing on 28 August. It took specialist teams more than a month to find her body. It was wrapped in plastic and found in an underwater grave in the Grand Union canal 15 minutes away from where I live. On 4 October convicted killer Arnis Zalkans, the prime suspect in her murder, was found hanged nearby in Boston Manor Park, four weeks after he was reported missing.

While people debated why the police took so long to find the body of Alice and why Arnis Zalkans's conviction of murdering his first wife in 1997 wasn't identified when he first entered the UK in 2007, my thoughts turned to the strength of the community spirit that shone through and became clear from seeing my fellow Hanwell residents come together in such devastating times. Earlier, after the local girl had gone missing, the community of Hanwell on behalf of her family, started a local campaign to Find Alice. This soon drew national attention through the extensive media coverage that developed following the murder. The whole of the UK's hearts became filled with hope and together united with Hanwell for the same cause, to find Alice.

Throughout the weeks following Alice going missing, Hanwell became dressed with yellow ribbons, a symbol of hope. These could be seen tied around posts, trees scattered along main roads, residential streets. Posters of Alice were visible on trees, in the windows of shops, houses, local businesses and tied to the entrance of parks and open spaces, including Elthorne Park, next to my flat.

Despite feeling vunerable during the period leading up to the discovery of Arnis Zalkans's body in Boston Manor Park in October, especially when walking home on my own past Elthorne Park, knowing that my neighbours were all united and actively pulling together while the search continued made me feel safe.

I have lived in Hanwell, a small village nestled in the borough of Ealing, since 1997. Hanwell is famous for where the Marshall amps story began, with regular visitors to Hanwell including legendary musicians Jimi Hendrix and Pete Townsend. Having lived in London for nearly 20 years, with 17 of these in Hanwell, I have seen people come and go and the community of Hanwell morph and change over the years. The one lesson I have learnt from the recent murder of Alice Gross is how something so tragic can only fuel more strength within a local community and bring everyone together both young and old, including people who have lived in Hanwell for years and those who are new to the area.

People often think that living in London must be an isolated and unfriendly experience but I often tell people it is not. I have made many friends over the 20 years I have lived in London. Some of my best friends I met when they were my neighbour, or from chatting at the local bus stop on my way to work each day. When people visit me in Hanwell they always say they have been made to feel welcome by the people they meet.

Wherever you live, feeling that you are part of a community is important. Today, the yellow ribbons, flowers, messages and candles still lie beside Hanwell's Clock Tower.The murder of local girl Alice Gross has highlighted to both the national media and to the UK as a whole how strong and alive the local community spirit is in Hanwell W7. RIP Alice Gross.

People Have A Global Voice On Climate Change In London

Me at London's People's Climate March 

On 21 September, I took part in the People's Climate March, the largest combined global climate march in history, with 2,646 solidarity events taking place in 162 countries, including here in London. On that Sunday, over 40,000 people attended the London rally from across the UK, with all ages taking part, from grandparents to children, founding campaigners and future generation of social media campaigners united. I carried my Avaaz banner, promoting the need to take responsibility for cleaner energy and chatted to interesting people from across the UK.

My friend David, who is a fantastic photographer, joined me on this peaceful march and he took some wonderful shots, in particular as we walked past Whitehall towards the Palace of Westminster, where the march ended with speeches by campaigners including the musician Peter Gabriel and actress Emma Thompson. I was pleased to learn later that 400,000 people attended the New York climate change march on 20 September, making it the largest rally in history.

My first experience of campaigning harks back to the late 80s, when I took part in a series of anti-war marches as a student  in Sheffield, with the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) symbol scrawled on the back of my denim jacket. The passion for campaigning continued throughout the five years I spent as a student and continues now. Anti-war campaigning has been the main theme over the years for me, including protesting against the Iraq War in 2012 and a Stop The War Coalition march in 2013. However, the environment and the effects of 'global warming' have become increasingly more important to me over the last decade.

Recycling each week is not enough for me and I believe more needs to be done to raise awareness of the irreversible damage that a build up of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere can do to our natural environment, our health and well-being. By acting now on simple things like changing the way we use our energy and manage our waste, we can prevent further damage before it is too late. We should not depend on the large corporates to be the only ones who need to change to make a difference. We also need to change our own behaviours, in order to prevent irreversible damage to our natural habitat. 

I also went to see the film Pride on 19 September, which I recommend going to see if you haven't already but remember to take a tissue, as tears may flow in a good way.  This inspiring film, set in the summer of 1984, when Margaret Thatcher is in power, tells the story of a London-based group of gay and lesbian activists who raised money to support a Welsh community of miners on strike, organised by the National Union of Mineworkers.

The two groups discover that standing together makes for the strongest union of all. Something that was achieved across the 162 countries that took part in the People's Climate Marches this month.

Read more here about the  People's Climate March London