Skip to main content

Clicks



Christmas lights are paused. The extension lead is redirected for a laptop battery boost. Boy clicks and complains of hitting bedrock. We have a houseguest this week: the two lads lean in to the screen and comment.
Can't you-
Click click.
No this is as fast as you can travel, except falling out of the sky down-
Click click.
Oh, yeah, or there's, you got some smoke I guess-
Click click.
Dun-du-lalala, dun-du-lalala-
Click click.
Dog sleeps in her basket, deposed from sofa dominance. Dried mud flecks her coat from our earlier walk; from the storm thrown woodlands where the boughs knocked and the earth coughed pheasants up.
Click click.
A few Christmas cards are squeezed on the mantelpiece, in amongst the various items: a wooden model man, vegetable seeds, wedding photo, address labels.
Click click.
Have you ever made a cannon-
Click click.
No-
You haven't lived! I'll show you-
Click click.
In comes Mr, shuffles himself a sofa spot. The lads move up. Dog wakes, sneaks in. The TV sings, aspiration songs.
Our tree is dressed smart casual; santa hat, musical tie.
Outside the weather eases down: it cools. The moon fattens up accordingly.
Click click.



Dog pats Boy


Comments

Suze said…
'Our tree is dressed smart casual'

:)

I think the tree we put up this year is the prettiest tree I have ever seen. Don't know what it is, exactly.

What a nice post, Lis.
15 December 2013 at 22:20
Lisa Southard said…
Watching teenagers play Minecraft wouldn't be on a list of things I would pick to inspire a deep appreciation of how lucky we are to be here: but there you go! Something different and lovely going on :-)
16 December 2013 at 00:47
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
2 comments
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
26 comments
Read more

A Glitch Or Two

My Chromebook has been crumbling. It seems a little like dementia, this inability to upgrade its powers of communication, it makes me sad, even for an object. It's one of the reasons my posts here have been put aside, that and generally being tumbled by tiredness. I have saved up money for a replacement, also I have spent that money on trees and shrubs. I have two novels to sort out however, and this will be the reason I save up again. I don't stop writing, even if I don't tell anyone. In the meantime should you need a calm place to go, I have begun a substack account. Please do drop by. If the kettle crumbles we can make tea (or soup) on the firepit. Me on substack:  Lisa Southard
Post a Comment
Read more