My displacement
syndrome has driven me to write a poem rather than complete the first
part of the three essays that I have to write before Thursday.
Amazingly enough it is a poem about swimming. Well, sort of. It
certainly starts with my irritation about a young swimmer who was
substantially faster than I and sort of turns into a musing about all
things transitory. Or very few things transitory as I restricted the
poem to a sonnet's length – even if I didn't follow any of any of
the sonnet rules apart form the line numbers. Anyway, it is on my
poetry blog at stephen m rees new poems or
possibly its all one word, but in some combination of my name and new
poems you will find any new poetic writing which I have been
shameless enough to post.
The
OU essay writing is going amazingly slowly and, given the number of
days left before I have to hand in three academically respectable
pieces of work on the Renaissance, it is going to have to speed up in
fairly short order. I always tell myself that I work better under
pressure – though my only real concession to that is cancelling my
attendance at the Wednesday meeting of the Poetry Group in Barcelona.
And that is the day before I have to hand the bloody things in.
Which doesnt say a great deal about how I feel my planning is about
to go! Never mind, I can always settle my nerves by telling myself
that anything is better than nothing. Not quite the standard that I
was aiming for, but let's be real about this!
You
may have noticed that there has been a variety of fonts and styles in
the presentation of the blog. This is because I have changed my
computer (or one of them at least) and, under strict instructions
from Toni I am only using free-source programs, so
this page has been created in LibreOffice Writer – and it does not
seem to interact exactly in the same way as Word. The fault is
probably mine: the User is always wrong! And I am working to try and
find a way that the program will start behaving in a way that I want
it to, rather than doing what the hell it want to in spite of what I
try. It is an education. Of sorts.
And
this is the first of my experiments.
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