Two Camels and She's Yours........

My beautiful and wacky daughter and her hubby are off for a fortnight's holiday to Morocco.  Her surgery will probably miss her for the two week's - or probably not.  Just to refresh, Kerri is an RDN (among other things) at a mainly cosmetic dental surgery in Buckinghamshire and a phone call to me one bored dinner break went something like this:

 "Hi, mum.  Thought I'd give you a call on my dinner break, I'm eating in, it's raining."


"What's that whizzing, Kek, I thought you had no patients over lunch?"

'I don't - I'm just trimming a piece of wallpaper with the drill - you know those middle trim pattern things - not quite even"

I continue my yapping when I hear a slurping sound.

'Kerri is that the saliva suction I hear..?

'Just clearing my sinuses, mum...'

'You grotty child...'

Suction continues in background.

'I can still hear the whoosy noise!'


'Fly's just come into the room, I'm trying to suck it dead'


I continue my mundane conversation and the next thing I hear little chippy noises.  


'What are you up to now, kiddo....?'

'Rolled some luting cement into little balls and I'm trying to ping them into spit cups, mum.....it's fun!'

And so the remainder of our conversation had little interruptions for the next 10 mins.

 The staff at her practice nickname her 'Matron' as she's a bossy cow, and likes her surgery just so. She blows up gloves and does chicken impressions for scared kiddies.  She's run open days at the surgery on weekends and sacrificed many a Saturday in between to help out, as they get the odd celebrity patient in.

  On return from her holiday, she'll tut and moan as the the temp that takes her place will have things in other places.  But she's still the biggest asset that surgery has. I burst with pride when I read the plaque she was awarded and all the patient comments that go with it.  But, where that apparatus-abuse comes from, I don't know!  It's not like I ever took her or her siblings to McDonalds and played 'Karate Chop' with the french-fries or anything...........



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Freshly Pipped

A family gathering, a Sunday debate
A spread of keen citruses, bright and ornate

Your hunger awaiting the green light from dad
As he seasons and juices his fresh catch of scad

Sitting adjacent, parents and sons
In happy approach, each canonical nones

Grace and a table indicative of
Pride from a father, a labour of love

Who mentions quite playfully,  points with a knife
How the fruits of their loins will be needed in life

To keep the seeds handy, to burst into colour
Peeling the pith, squeezing juice from another

They'll each have a table, and gathering glow
And a orchard of offsprings, a life to bestow
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Mite To Mound

(I've veered from the sad truth to an unrelated positive of this prompt)

Gathered steps from grand to mite
becomes your future overnight.
Borne to have, to cultivate,
sweet plantations there await.

We wave to father's trail that weaves,
among the pungent, drying leaves
Skin relations, tying links,
respect for what a woman thinks.

A whole with no hypocrisy,
a blip, a blood democracy
As evident as blazing star,
we track our loved ones from afar.

The smokey trails, the hissing streams,
the catcher feathering our dreams
Grandma's trembling hands may stealth,
to sell our goods and keep our health

Wonder Star, Returning Moon,
your day is over, none too soon.
Babes back in arms of their creator,
stars will call a little later.

Gathered round until again,
they venture on their many plains.
Alas we'll waive and watch the skies,
fill from which our lives derive.

To say goodbye in sacred mounds
Sweet Plantations, sacred grounds.