(Our trip to Glastonbury)

The roof of our van leaks
The fridge doesn’t work
We have one ring working on the gas cooker
I start my period as we drive in the gates
It rains torrential rain
You know that word torrential now
And you like me to say it again and again.
We’re at Glastonbury which is a campsite 
Without the festival
For one year only
Because of Covid.
We wake up to thunder
You paint yourself with stripes
And say you’re a tiger
We make friends with another mum
And her son
We play corn hole together 
And I wonder why it’s called that.
We find the stone dragon 
You sit on a stone at the stone circle
We don’t get stoned.
We climb up to the pink castle
I get friction burn on my ankle 
From the pirate ship slide
We stand under the pyramid stage and shout
Whoo Hoo Glastonbury 
We get transfer tattoos 
We make a magic rainbow with tissue paper
We go to the pub which I didn’t know existed 
When it’s the usual 200, 000 people enlisted
In this magical place.
We laugh, we shout, we dance about
We ride the bike all around 
The site 
Each night 
When you’re in bed I feel like shouting from the van top
From the tent roof tops 
From the pub roof
We managed another day
Without getting washed away
You say you’ve forgotten what our house is like
And you want to live in the van for more than 
Seven nights
We are immersed in the camping extravaganza 
And we’re making memories which will be part of us forever.
Now it’s cold and dark with winter sun
I remember last summer and all that we’ve done.

How many conversations can I have 
while I walk down the never ending 
stream of parents at pick up.
Moving with the ebb and flow 
of the tide of tired children 
hot on my heels, eager to get home.
There is no time for Hello how are you
How is work going, oh what do you do?
Dive in there, forget the small talk
Exchanging the headlines, turning while I walk.
Three word sentences seem to work quite well
Questions and answers flying, no time to dwell
Birthday meal successful?
Sleep any better? 
Roof on shed!
Bit chilly - park?
Sausages and mash
Sea swim Friday?
Nice jacket - new?
The Tourist, iplayer
Meet outside gate
Early pizza - pub?
Done test, negative
Finally I’m at the front of the queue
Your smiley face appears in the door 
Cardigan, book bag, ear muffs spilling out of your arms 
Together once more
I love you.

‘Do you want to be buried or burnt’
You ask me at dinner
You could have asked when we were driving
When I could get away with being distracted
‘Probably burnt but remember I’d be dead already, 
I wouldn’t be alive’
But now have you got an image of 
me being burnt alive...
‘Bodies get turned into ash when they are burnt
A bit like the ash from the fire’
Suspiciously you glance at the wood burner
Your face creases with sadness 
as your mind begins to whirl
‘Who will be at my funeral mummy,
You’ll be dead’
Spaghetti shows itself again from your mouth 
as you stop chewing 
and  your tears take over 
You crawl into my arms
Such big thoughts for your little heart.