Last Sunday I gave a talk at the local Secular Society about Richard III and how the book was created. I used a power point to illustrate, showing them all the fun we had promoting the book, e.g. Dr Richard Buckley, head of the archaeological dig, with his colleague dressed in full Wars of the Roses armour. I even did my Witch of Daneshill act with silly hat, the lot. It seemed to go down well but the next day a friend told me that he had been to a number of their talks and they were usually very serious affairs. Oh well, it is the season to be jolly...allegedly.
The other week, in one of our poetry seminars, we were looking at iambic pentameter with rhyming couplets. The next day I was in the GP's waiting room and was inspired by events that occurred to write this:
You think the door's an automatic one.
It's not and what is more it weighs a ton.
You take the blow full force right in your face
but people see and so you have to brace
yourself pretending that you've not been hurt,
leap off the floor and brush away the dirt
and as you walk you hold your head up high,
ignore their giggles and the urge to cry.