The Return of the Prodigal!
Yes, it’s been ages and ages since my last witterings here. The reasons for this are many and varied. In future, though, I have told myself to put something on this blog every week. (Gosh – I bet you’ll sit there with bated breath in anticipation . . . !)
Last weekend, we had the great pleasure of having our younger, first-language-Welsh grand-daughter, Milly, staying with us. She’s just started “big school” – Penweddig – where all lessons are taught via the medium of Welsh. We’re very proud of her (and of you, too, Ceri) (Ceri’s my other grand-daughter).
Whilst here, Milly did her homework. She knew I’d had poems published, so asked me to write a quick one for her to translate into Welsh – the subject the teacher had set was “Shaking”. So I rushed off a bit of what I thought was doggerel (it looked very bardic in Milly’s translation!). But – oh, heck – an emergency has just arisen!
Back. The emergency was a pair of blue-tits in our kitchen! They wouldn’t listen to our escape-instructions, so I had to chase ’em through the house and shoo ’em through the windows.
Any road up, here’s my piece of doggerel – I shall keep you posted on how Milly’s teacher reacted to her Welsh version. (Please note: the Welsh words for “shaking” as in fear, and “shaking” as in hands are two separate ones – I used that as a poetic ploy.)
“I am shaking
Not with fear,
But with joy.
For I see
Friends shaking hands
And new acquaintances
The world is shaking