My big sis Jacqui and I were about to wing our way to London… hard to believe a whole year has gone by! 

So here’s the poem I wrote last year as part of my poetry course… god I love London!!! 

London Times Two

The city, so busy

was making me dizzy

or it could have been the clonazapam,

that we took again,

and again

with a little wine, then we slept, amen!

a day and a night

at that crazy height

half the world, on hold, slid past

until at last

terra firma . British soil, were we excited?

I’m inclined to say yes, but that’s a guess, we were just so tired

that we wept and slept.

How inept.

But we woke anew, at 4am, we showered too

smelling sweetly of Britney Spears fantasy perfume,

we hit the streets, wallets stuffed with pounds

like hounds we sniffed out sights and sounds

of London waking and opening it’s doors

Oxford Street calling us, tongues on the floor

H&M first for a leather jacket

Marx and Sparx undies, 6 in a packet.

Next for a T-shirt, Gap for another

Lady Di on a key chain (that’s for our mother).

Buckingham Palace!

we watched those fella’s,


in starch.

Black boots, shiny buttons

on red coats, resting weapons.

Through Saint James Park, to Westminster Abbey

a little peaky and somewhat sleepy.

Jet lag be damned! We would not waste a minute

coffee a deux, a trip to the loo, then straight back in it.

15 pounds

to look around

we hovered a minute, then paid the cost

and soon we were lost,

to other worlds where kings killed queens

and queens were mean

in places unseen

their wax figures trapped behind glass screens.

Darwin and Newton watched us leave,

a walk in the sun a short reprieve

from a schedule packed full

a slower pace, breathing space until

the eye filled the sky line.

London’s wheel of fortune for tourists to fly in.

But while her camera is in action,

you are my distraction.

For the views are those I saw with you

5 years ago, how time flew

like a cliche, we worked until we were cosy

loosing the urge to be nosey

to explore beyond our door, to stay as tourists

Yet still I am accosted

with memories fostered in scarves and jackets,

in crisp packets,

drawers of the forgotten

at the Tate Modern,


in the afternoon,

a walk in the snow,

a broadway show.

Todays sun shines

on different times

but thoughts of you will make me stronger

so I stay with you, a while longer.