#atinylife going, going

Going…going.

ten thousand I am bid:

fifteen at the back,

come on now,

this unique lot! You’ll not see this again.

 

Puffin searches in vain for sandeels.

Swan sickens, poisoned by anglers’ lead.

Gannet, strong, snared in plastic net.

Spring rains fail, sand sweeping over pasture.

 

Fifteen at the back, twenty five online

Yes, sir, that’s more like it, thirty-five for this trophy

stuffed and so beautifully mounted.

You’ll not see another, not anywhere

– forty at the front –

now who’ll give me the reserve price? Fifty?

Thank you, sir. Going… going…

 

In secret hideouts, bitterns still boom

guarded.

Otters gambol and play,

no longer hunted.

Polecats lurk

White tailed eagle soars.

 

Sixty thousand I am bid.

Any advance on sixty? For this handsome Great Auk

shot, stuffed and preserved for posterity.

All done at sixty thousand?

Going…going…gone.

going going

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#tinylife Drudgery – guest post by Penny Hext

Domestic Drudgery

Domesticity – don’t you just love it? Here’s my personal top ten least favourite tasks, in no particular order:

  1. Scrubbing urban seagull shit off the front window.
  2. Swabbing all kitchen surfaces after Beloved’s weekend cooking extravaganza.
  3. Wiping down every single white surface in the house. (Who – exactly – invented white surfaces? Any why?)
  4. Disinfecting the toilet. (No. Flushing water doeDomestic Drudgerys not do it.)
  5. Hoovering the plants. (Yes, there’s an art, and hoovering isn’t recommended. But it’s much quicker. Sorry plants!)
  6. High speed dusting – complete with hoover attachments.
  7. Cleaning the ‘self-cleaning’ oven. (Really? Yes. Some Nameless Numpty forgot to include the metal racks.)
  8. Disposal of soured milk. Especially when you are dairy-free.
  9. Bouncing cold mailshot letters. Ignore at your peril, they multiply exponentially.
  10. Pest removal – including ants, bees, wasps, moths, flies, rats and mice. Not forgetting the occasional deceased squab/baby seagull.

Guest Post from our new Intern Cheryl Smith #atinylife tiny?

Begin AgainI had a normal-sized life, albeit with a tendency to uncomfortable swellings, until recently. In the months after my memoir was published, though, it became tiny.

There’s only five-foot-one of me, so I’ve never taken up much space. Tiny is my natural state, and as I was past middle age with no notable features, I was perfectly placed to reduce this life to near-invisibility. In producing a book, I had written it large – or in 12-point Times New Roman at least – and ventured way beyond my comfort zone. It was exhilarating and I loved it, but playing it tiny felt much more me.

But life won’t be played like that, and comfort zones won’t contain it. The tiny life whispers increasingly, incessantly, that it too, deserves to be written. So here I am, at the keyboard, ready to begin again.