Late-summer morning
Golden light and black liquid
Saturday begins
In response to TJ’s Household Haiku Challenge. Prompt: Gold. I’d just taken this photo then I saw the prompt… too coincidental to ignore!
Late-summer morning
Golden light and black liquid
Saturday begins
In response to TJ’s Household Haiku Challenge. Prompt: Gold. I’d just taken this photo then I saw the prompt… too coincidental to ignore!
Over the weekend, my brother and sister-in-law were in Zurich and since he’s a big car guy (and proud owner of an awesome Valiant Charger) we thought we’d check out the Dolder Classic vintage car show. I think this is the first vintage car show I’ve attended and I really enjoyed it.
It was a nice scene – people just cruised in with their cars and would stay for a few hours (it seemed) then head off. Some of the vehicles were for sale, others just for show. Afterwards we checked out a few more beauties in the car park as well.
There were lots of muscular Mustangs, curvy Stingrays, a Delorean, some real golden oldies and, of course, many Porsches — I think Porsche must be Zurich’s favourite marque, you see so many on the streets here. My favourite was probably the superb Amilcar Pégase from 1936 – the workmanship and details were exquisite. It was an Amilcar that caused the death of Isadora Duncan (her scarf got caught in the wheels and broke her neck) so that’s an interesting bit of historical trivia.
As well as drooling over all the pretty motors, the people-watching was lots of fun too. I enjoyed seeing a family of six emerge from a two-door Mustang, some elegant old dudes in an elegant, convertible Bentley, a stylish matron driving her zippy, royal blue 60s Porsche and a pair of rockers with face tatts, a vintage jalopy and a baby bump.
Anyway, I haven’t done a photo blog in a while and this really lends itself, so enjoy!
Sometimes feels like
everyone’s saying it’s
Nazi Germany
But in fact we’re in
the Weimar Republic
with the internet
and superfast broadband
and actually no wars
in living memory … almost
nearby.
And I read about
the wartime occupation of France
on holiday in France
And my brain only
forms German words
and I live in that neutral land
between the two countries
and it hasn’t even been 100 years.
And I wonder what it all means
Are we
cursed to live in interesting times?
or are they so dull
we’ve overlaid reality
with Pokémon cartoons
and Trump and Brexit and terrorism and guns and refugees are just…
flotsam of news
jetsam of state control
And politics.
This sordid mess
still looks beautiful
from Lake Geneva
And I just don’t know
what to make of it all
Summer heat
And old friends
drift out and in
shimmering, floating through my life again
carrying currents of warm air
caressing my skin
loosening my brain
Happiness, basking
in gentle-fierce friend-fire
banked round my heart
shored up for colder times
And we swim together
spraying drops of clear water
quenching a soul-parched dry
refreshed and clarified by
your shining eyes
seeing far below the surface
soul-deep, I gaze fondly back
But passing fast and lovely
vibrant summertime blooms
fleeting, beautiful, bounty
against blue, blue skies
And silvery moons…
Your tongues speak treasures
licking my loneliness
clean as a groomed feline
As worlds collide, combine
enfolding my family in kindness
While two little boys delight
in simple joys of a new friend, who’s an old one
Held in sweet stasis, so brief
the heady, overblown, ridiculous emotion
of high-summer moments
Last week I said goodbye to one of my best friends in the world. It wasn’t goodbye forever. Don’t panic, no one has died. But Goodbye physically, for probably quite a while. We live on opposite sides of the world and have 5 kids between us. It’s amazing we could even spend a week together, really. But we did, and it was magical. Not fakey, stupid glitter-princess Disney magical. But the real shit. The kind of contentment and coming home feeling you get from spending actual quality time with a true friend.
My friend is one of the cleverest people I know and does not suffer fools. She is frightening, powerful, wickedly funny and capable of extreme good. We talked a bit about our respective struggles with anxiety, workloads, kids, mothers and all that. Maybe unloaded a bit of baggage. We didn’t talk about everything ever, that would have taken another lifetime. But we got through a fair bit and, well. I don’t even know how to talk about how great it felt seeing her every day without just sounding hokey and ridiculous.
Our friendship always felt important. It was one of those where it seemed like we knew something – even many things – that others didn’t (and isn’t that the hallmark of all great love affairs?). As someone who struggles a lot with self-doubt, occasionally tipping over into self-loathing, I think having my friend here helped make me feel important. Like I mattered.
It got me thinking about real connections versus the internet. Then Pokemon Go happened and I feel kind of disturbed by it. I’m not much into video games myself and I’ll readily admit I’m paranoid about these opiate-for-the-masses type things. Hey: don’t sit still and quiet and think of things, don’t have real conversations, don’t make trouble – just play this inane game that will take up All. Your. Time. It would be horrible to be bored or unoccupied for even one moment, right? Or to just walk around the world without being plugged into a super-reality, or music or a portal to your mates’ current statuses? In a time when we’re all gnashing and screaming about gun violence and rape culture, how is anyone not making the connection between that and an augmented reality game where it’s fine to capture and/or battle any random creature you come across on the street? I can only shudder to think how this will escalate once the Grand Theft Auto augmented reality version comes out. Maybe I’m living in the past, but isn’t GTA the one where you can steal cars, bash hookers and waste passers by? As long as they’re the superimposed game characters, not people in real life of course… because no one will ever confuse the two. Ever.
Oh and then there’s the thing I heard that all the photos and videos you take with your phone in PokeGo are sent back to Google / internets HQ. So now they’ve got Google Maps and images and video of inside your house and all your stuff, and a nice little record of your daily routes as you go about your usual business as well. I’ve got friends saying they’ll ban other friends from playing it in their home. But my mate visited me in Zurich recently and played Ingress (basically the same game, but with aliens) almost constantly so I guess our place is already on the servers. Whachagonnado?
It terrifies me though, and makes me sad. I worry that, as a society, we’ve all cashed in our warm, living, breathing life-giving cows for handfuls of magic smartphone beans. Sure the beans might give us access to a fantasy world in the clouds of unimagined wonders. But it’s a dangerous place up there and, ultimately, does it help us live well when we spend all that time out of the real world, listening to magical harps on Spotify and hoping to steal a goose that lays golden Pokeballs?
I just finished an excellent book, Mullumbimby by Melissa Lucashenko. It was set in and around the eponymous town near Byron Bay on the north east coast of New South Wales. My brother, his wife and their kids live there so I know the area reasonably well. The book was from a modern aboriginal woman’s perspective and I loved the connection to the land, this idea of sitting still – meditating in a way — to really hear what nature and the universe is telling you. Pretty much the opposite of Pokemon Go. Don’t get me wrong, I’m addicted to my smartphone. But I do yearn for a less connected/more connected life. And that Byron Bay hinterland area is so special – last time I was there, I sat by the Brunswick River and cried and cried all over my wonderful sister in law. She helped me feel better, but so did just being there on that sandy, scrubby ground by the water. I’m not aboriginal but, even for me, that feels like a sacred place. And I think that can be found almost everywhere if you pay attention to really observe and absorb – probably not via the medium of a little glowing screen.
Back to spending time with real people and hanging out with old mates visiting Zurich (two so far this summer…) . Spending time with them was wonderful and soul-satisfying in a way I don’t really get from social media. Seeing my friends in the flesh, it’s obvious to me that physically being with someone must light up a bazillion more brain synapses than just talking on Skype, Facebook interactions, letters or emails does. Don’t get me wrong. I totally rate these methods of communication and would be all the more lonely without them. But it’s not the same. It’s. Not. The. Same. Just feeling the breeze on your face, then seeing it touch your friend’s hair… feeling the same air temperature… even subconsciously, this must say “we’re here, we’re experiencing the same things” and that’s so important. Humans’ ability to quickly travel so far from (and back to) their childhood home, friends and family has surely evolved far faster than our lizard brains’ capacity to have relationships with people. I guess that’s why we invented social media in the first place: to somehow bridge that yawning gap.
I feel like I need a grand conclusion to this but I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to preach to anyone. I don’t have any answers. I’m a smartphone-addicted sad old goth who wants to feel connected to my friends and is miffed by Pokemon Go. Tomorrow we welcome another old friend to visit us Zurich. Can’t wait.
I’ve lived in Switzerland for 2.5 years now. Things have got easier.
I had this feeling a while ago when I had a random hour or two to spend along Bahnhofstrasse and I ended up chatting to a stylish shop assistant in one of the fancier places for 10 minutes – we had a basic conversation mostly auf Deutsch just about our kids and that my eldest is almost perfect in Schweizerdeutsch and how when she lived in Lausanne for a few years, she wasn’t much good on the French but her kids were experts etc. I didn’t buy anything (it was all Moschino-level stuff, eek) but I left feeling like I’d gained an extra layer of confidence.
Today I overheard a conversation in a hotel where the lady asked for a black tea and the maître d’ said it was available at the breakfast buffet. Small, basic exchanges but I am understanding them.
My own German is still pretty bad – I lack confidence so I say things quietly and tend to mutter, which doesn’t help me OR the person I’m talking to. Then there’s pronunciation problems – I requested Ibuprofen in a pharmacy yesterday, saying it in my Australian way: “Eye-buprofen”. The assistant looked puzzled, until my friend chimed in with “Ih-buprofen” – A-ha! Then telling the same friend (who is Swiss-French) about a feature I’m writing that mentions Crans-Montana there was a moment…. “oh Crhuns-Montana!” (put on your best French). I will amend my pronunciation of this one from now on. Although there’s a certain appeal to Craaaans maaayte!
Anyway, here’s 11 things I am loving about my life in Switzerland right now



I really hope we can stay.
When I moved to London town
I saw unicorns all around
Trotting, prancing, showing off
Their silky manes, both street and posh
Amy Winehouse with her hive-horn
Too quickly turned to crown of thorn
The gorgeous, lovely and the torn
Who’d bring it on the Tube each morn
And outside London, thought I found
Unicorn habitat all around
The ancient magick of the land
Emerald glades and pebbley sand…
I didn’t spot the British Lions
Sitting noble at their pints
Wanting to protect their pride
Gath’ring power, biding time
Shaking out their mangy fur
Memories of what they were
So golden, graceful, deadly, sleek
King of the jungle is not meek!
Claws were sharpened, teeth bared
Lies were told, tempers flared
Fighting, snarls, self-righteous rage
Ugly beasts who won’t be caged
Cruel attacks from either side
Barbs that puncture both their hides
Boris, Farage, Cameron: cowards
Rich men turning lion’s gold sour
And finally the ivory spike
Overcome by fear and might
A heavy blow, ruthless, loud
And unicorn lies in a shroud –
A silly, worthless mythic creature
Dreams slashed of charm’ed future
Now I hear the lions roar
And nothing will be as before
How do I speak about you as your twilight approaches
The way you fit so smoothly
in the palm of my hand
So many times I’ve held you
My fingers caressing your surface
A reassuring presence in so many ways.
Have my eyes dwelt on your radiant face
More often than on the sweet heads of my children?
I hope not, but I fear
You’ve been with me, so near
In almost every moment these past five years.
Have my fingers moved across your surface
More than they’ve trailed over my husband’s body?
Undoubtedly. How unfortunate.
So how do I say goodbye
To one who’s been so intimate
So close
And yet, also, tethered me to tough times
a symptom? or a cause?
when the wet rope of anxiety
wraps round my wrist
cutting, painful, trapped
dragging down, suffocating
in your glowing depths.
But you were a beacon
on those long, long newborn nights
A conduit of joy
upset, rage and the mundane
So many Moments: captured!
A modicum of comfort in exhaustion and despair
A window to the world, it sounds so trite!
Friends spoke, smiled and sobbed through you
And now, my most ardent hope
Is that your stuttering, failing light
Doesn’t flicker out before I fickle find
Your replacement
(A new galaxy awaits!)
It seems absurd to eulogise a machine
But, my smug little Smarty
Mirror of a thousand selfies
You’ve been with me through such a time
It feels silly-sad to lay you to rest
without some remark
before you go to gather dust in a drawer
is it fitting to bid you
Goodbye old friend?
Last time it rained like this
Rain, rain, rain
It was spring? autumn? In…
my share house in Newtown
the same rain, same, same
Some days it would stop
Then it’d start up
again, again, again
Uni textbooks damp and curling
lank hanks of velvet curtain
on my sliding bedroom door
over my barred window, hiding
the pane, pane, pane
Blocking out my hangovers, oh
the pain, the pain, the bane
Of my existence.
A lover called my room “the pit”
But I had a red rose
outside on the covered balcony
A little flame, flame, flame
One night another suitor
Left a small china dog on my doorstep
Racked returning from the pub–
a tender campaign, campaign, campaign.
I’d go to my beautiful friend’s house
Try to ease her sadness
with pizza, throwdowns, hairdye–
We’d laugh, tho her heart was
in twain, twain, twain.
I did my work, I felt sad and happy
I got drunk all the time.
It rained and rained and rained
Sometimes wonder how much has
changed, changed, changed
Is it any surprise
We have the same knives
When our lives
Are so easily connected
By flight?
But complacency’s unwise
Because not all the ties
Are strong and it’s night
In your world, while in mine
The sun shines
And tho the lines
Of communication open lie
The sight of those knives
was a cutting remind
You’re not by my side