Writing

Sugar Rush

This morning I was pouring sugar from its bag into a bowl that we store it in and I was struck by the sensation of it all.  That movement, the granular rush, the flow, I couldn’t help but be reminded of an hourglass.  The slip of moments, seconds, minutes, time, passing away, drawing me forwards, ever closer to that inevitability – type 2 diabetes.

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Writing

Noel

‘Twas the week before Christmas
And all through the city
All the people were shopping
And it was not pretty.

All bargains were bought up
The sidewalks a rush
The cafes all bursting
In this Yuletide crush

There was not a moment
Or space left unplastered
By red and green trimming
Which merchants had mastered

The buskers all busking
The trams were all packed
But I must get to working
Before I get sacked.

(Ho ho ho, Santa pun)

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