(Written during lockdown)

“Look”, you say as we sit in my bed,
“I can see the flerections of the fairy lights in the window,
They’re red and the sky is black,
It looks like they’re dancing in the sky”
And as beautiful as it sounds
I think to myself 
We can only see the bloody ‘flerections’
Because it’s still so bloody early and it’s still so bloody dark.
And so the day starts.

(with motherhood in mind. Written during lockdown)

On my way back from nursery 
Swinging your lamby in the air
I walked past a woman
And I tried not to stare
At her young baby
Being pushed in a pram
While the woman
Chatted to her friend 
About making fruit puree
And painful breastfeeding
And sleepless nights
And I was transported back
To our flat
In those early months 
With you
And it made me think…
'I remember when
I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place
Even your emotions have an echo in so much space
And when you're out there without care
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much
Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
Possibly...'
And so the lyrics continue in my head
Summing up some of the early days of 
Motherhood
You being out there without a 
Care, just being there
While my mind free flowed 
As the hours went by
In a haze
And I was out of touch with reality
For days
And fruit puree is no longer in my 
Everyday vocabulary 
Sadly sleepless nights are
Which continue to 
Make me crazy.
Will they ever end
Possibly...

(Written during lockdown)

We seem to have gone mainstream.
We have Joe Wicks in our lives in the mornings
You ask me if we can visit him at his house.
I have Gogglebox in my Friday night landscape 
And The Voice on Saturdays 
I like the American rapper will.i.am.
We have roast chicken on Sundays
Fish and chips on Fridays
Sausages and mash at some point
Pasta when I can’t think of anything else
Which is quite often.
Pizza makes an appearance maybe on a Thursday
As does Macarooni cheese 
And baked potatoes.
Ham and cheese toasty after nursery
On a Friday as an end of week treat
Sometimes followed by a mini milk.
Is this our life now
Mainstream
Mainstream food.
We dance around to Taylor Swift ‘Shake it Off’
And shout Woo Hoo George Ezra
When he comes on the radio.
Will we look different if this continues for much longer
Have I lost my identity and moulded you into the world of
Mainstream.
Will people no longer describe me as quirky
Or a bit different
Individual
Left field
Off piste
On her own road
Track
Path
Or will mainstream have an expiry date. 
Does it still count for something that we say
‘Off they go on holiday’ 
When we put our clothes in the washing basket
Or am I just grasping at hope that
Left field is on the back burner
Woodburner
Fire pit
Out of bounds
Just for the moment.
Come on quirky
I never liked that word
But I’ll invite you back
If it means I’m still different.