The Gîte


Gîte: A gîte is a specific type of holiday accommodation. A gîte is a holiday home which is available for rent. Gîtes are usually fully furnished and equipped for self-catering.

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She stands tall and proud,
Elegant on the outside, decorative.

Flowers hang by the door, swaying in the breeze.
Shutters open wide,
Daring the observer to take a closer look through netted curtains.

Looking out onto fields of corn,
Nestled in the perfect spot,
Tucked away and private.

Yet inside holds a secret.
Once grand and new, once solid and clean,
Now she lies dusty and dormant.
Only coming alive when a family enters,
Bringing with them laughter and life.

Look closely and you will see the fireplace crumble,
Touch too hard and a light shade will fall,
Exposing live and dangerous wires.

She is tired inside,
In need of some love.
She is old and worn.

Strong wooden beams support her still,
Strength on the inside keeps her standing on the outside.
Looking at the outside no one could know what is hidden in the depths,
Until they dare to enter deeper.

She could be grand again if someone just took the time to look after her,
Nurture her back to her former glory.
She is not lost forever.
Appearances can be deceptive.

Prose for Thought
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Building Memories


Memories: The mental faculty of retaining and recalling past experience. The act or an instance of remembering; recollection: spent the afternoon lost in memory. All that a person can remember. Something remembered: pleasant childhood memories.

Lives together,
Yet often apart.
Separated all day,
Joined by five hearts.

Goodbye in the morning,
Gone all the day.
Home-time, bedtime,
Sometimes away.

Holiday different,
Together at last.
Memories building,
Like my childhood past.

Same beach as then,
Twenty-five years on.
Father not here,
Fourteen years gone.

Memories built then,
Still vivid and clear.
Just like it was yesterday,
And he somehow near.

A family then,
When I was the child.
As the parent now,
New memories are filed.

Time away important,
A chance to rest.
Recharging spent batteries,
Time out with the best.

Laughter and love,
Five of us as one.
Living and loving,
Memorable fun.

Different culture,
Wonderful sights.
Days on the beach,
Long, lazy nights.

Precious time together,
My family, my world.
Breathing in new memories,
My heart forever will hold.

Prose for Thought

Travel


Travel: Travel is the movement of people between relatively distant geographical locations, and can involve travel by foot, bicycle, automobile, train, boat, airplane, or other means, with or without luggage, and can be one way or round trip.

In the car,
A long way to go.
Are we nearly there yet?
For the millionth time ‘no!’

Turning left,
Then straight on.
Missed our turning,
Gone very wrong.

Children are bored,
Whinging and grumpy.
Bum is numb,
Road is bumpy.

Chocolate, treats,
Keep them happy.
Music on,
Oh no! Smelly nappy!

Play eye spy,
read or sleep.
Distracted for seconds,
Attention must keep.

Kilometres, miles,
Long way to go.
Sometimes drive fast,
Roadworks, drive slow.

Pins and needles,
Sat for too long.
Packed full of bags,
Room for us…none.

Destination, arrival!
French bread and wine!
Holiday begins now,
Stinky cheese is all mine. 😉

This poem was written with the help of my 12 year old daughter during our long journey to our gite in France!

Prose for Thought

Travel


Travel: Travel is the movement of people between relatively distant geographical locations, and can involve travel by foot, bicycle, automobile, train, boat, airplane, or other means, with or without luggage, and can be one way or round trip.

In the car,
A long way to go.
Are we nearly there yet?
For the millionth time ‘no!’

Turning left,
Then straight on.
Missed our turning,
Gone very wrong.

Children are bored,
Whinging and grumpy.
Bum is numb,
Road is bumpy.

Chocolate, treats,
Keep them happy.
Music on,
Oh no! Smelly nappy!

Play eye spy,
read or sleep.
Distracted for seconds,
Attention must keep.

Kilometres, miles,
Long way to go.
Sometimes drive fast,
Roadworks, drive slow.

Pins and needles,
Sat for too long.
Packed full of bags,
Room for us…none.

Destination, arrival!
French bread and wine!
Holiday begins now,
Stinky cheese is all mine. 😉

This poem was written with the help of my 12 year old daughter during our long journey to our gite in France!

Prose for Thought

Irritability


Irritability: Irritability is an excessive response to stimuli. The term is used for both the physiological reaction to stimuli and for the pathological, abnormal or excessive sensitivity to stimuli; It is usually used to refer to anger or frustration.

Easily irritated,
Wound up, cross.
Can’t help this feeling,
Happiness lost.

Simple things,
Drive me insane.
Frustration bubbling,
Nothing’s the same.

Long days,
Longer nights.
Tiredness kicks in,
Reaching new heights.

Feelings fragile,
Tempers frayed.
Impatience begins,
Rationality swayed.

Fists clench,
Teeth grind.
Deep breathing helps,
To clear troubled mind.

Close the door,
Sink under bubbles.
A nice warm bath,
Soothes all my troubles.

Apologies needed,
Accepted, forgiven.
Positivity needed,
Optimism driven.

All forgotten,
Move on once more.
Irritations gone,
Anger no more.

Prose for Thought

Touch


Touch: Touch is one of the sensations processed by the somatosensory system. Touch may also refer to: Haptic perception, the ability to recognise objects through touch. Haptic communication, the study of human touching behaviour. Haptic technology, technology that interfaces to the user via the sense of touch

I’ve always been funny about personal space,
Don’t come near my body don’t be near my face.

I need room to breathe, room just to be,
I need to be independent, in control, free.

Don’t know how to dance, don’t know where to begin,
Not comfortable with my body, feel strange in my skin.

Asked to move, to copy each other,
Can’t make up new movements, work with one another.

Uncomfortable feelings, very self aware,
A need to escape, be alone, not there.

Trusting each other, hands and feet touch.
Going through the motions, but not liking it much.

Aches and pains, releases of tension,
Talking, understanding, receiving attention.

Easier with time, becoming more free.
Loosening my body, feeling more like me.

Helping, healing, team work and such.
The wonder of movement, the magic of touch.

This poem is a out a new dance therapy group I have been attending to help mums with post-natal depression. I have found it very challenging, but it is helping!

Prose for Thought

The Madness Before School


Madness: The quality or condition of being insane. See Synonyms at insanity. Great folly: It was sheer madness to attempt the drive during a blizzard. Fury; rage. Enthusiasm; excitement.

The Madness Before School

Mum where’s this, mum where’s that?
Where’s my coat and where’s my hat?
Where are my shoes and where is my book?
Where’s my school bag I can’t find it? LOOK!

I can’t find my pencils, mum where are my pens?
I’m going to be late now, late for my friends!
Mum I need some food, mum I need a drink,
I can’t find my glasses now where are they? THINK!

My tie has gone missing, my key’s just not here,
I left it there I know I did, mum is it near?
I need my PE kit, mum where is my purse?
Why can’t I find them, have you moved them? SEARCH!

I’m off now mum I’ve found all my things,
When you pick me up can you my dance stuff bring?
I don’t know where my dance stuff could be,
Think it’s in my room, I’m not sure. SEE!

The door slams shut, the children are gone.
Enjoy the peace but not for long,
The husband appears, says where are my keys?
Where’s my laptop bag can you find them, PLEASE?

All of things things are here, use your eyes,
They’re under your feet, they’re on the sides,
Organise yourself the evening before
Then you’ll search and panic no
more.

Prose for Thought

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