The Charming Betty
A journey most curious
On ferry amphibious
Half boat, half 4-wheeled bus
Carried the five of us.
All hassle oblivious
To Castle Elizabeth.
image courtesy of http://www.jersey.com/PublishingImages/Attractions/display_detail/dis_elizabeth_castle_2.jpg Find out more on the Jersey.com website.
Sat by a fountain
Gushing like a geyser
Gushes down a mountain
Avalanche a freezer
Spraying in the sunshine
Refreshment stasis
Drops from a diamond mine
Urban oasis.
It was unfortunate:
My last day in the sun.
Not to be beaten
By the unexpected summer rays,
I rushed to the beach
And allowed the sun to gaze
Full in my unprotected face
With only the ozone layer
And ninety three million miles of space
To protect me.
No sun cream here:
I soaked up the photons
On Factor Zero.
No-one would claim they had more time in the sun than me.
But, later, back at the hotel.
Delighted I hadn’t been beaten.
I was mistaken at dinner for beetroot.
And unceremoniously eaten.
“The trees come all the way down to the water”
The BBC told me
It would only by thirteen in Jersey.
Thirteen Degrees C!
The same as the South Coast across the sea?
But it was warmer there
And emptier
And friendlier
The BBC didn’t tell me that.
I counted the clouds:
On Monday
There weren’t any;
On Tuesday
Clouds I sought ,
But there were naught;
On Wednesday I looked, but no,
Still zero.
So sitting on a beach
Under fierce furnace fire
In April
Where the trees come all the way down to the water
And the super-slow-motion crash of azure waves,
Diamond-tipped on golden sands.
In April
I figure that what the BBC
Told me
About Jersey
Was wrong.
When I first became a headteacher
I knew what I had to do.
I strode purposefully into that staffroom
And said a word or two.
I spoke to all of the teachers
I communicated with all of the staff
Found what had to be changed
Plotted a decisive path.
Went away to carry out actions
Written on triplicate plans
Following the latest SMART targets
I journeyed to far distant lands.
And there on the edge of a canyon
Teetering near lava-filled pools
I captured the magical beast
And hauled it back to my new school.
Back in the staffroom I presented
The fruition of my labours complete
Just what my teachers had asked for
The thing that would make us compete.
I’d accomplished my colleague’s desires:
Nothing had gone awry!
And now with the staff on my side
Our standards were going to fly!
But the silence was truly awkward,
Everyone in there froze.
Some of them shuffled their feet.
The Year 6 teacher wrinkled his nose.
Butterflies flapped in my belly
I felt naked, despite my best suit.
I’d misjudged something badly
But what? I just couldn’t compute…
The Deputy cleared her throat
As if she was going to speak.
I couldn’t let that happen:
This was my moment to peak.
Trying to lighten the moment,
I said, “What? Is it the horn?”
And with a sympathetic grimace.
She said “Uniform, not unicorn.”
They told me I needed a Moral Purpose
In education;
To change this nation.
And so I searched for my Moral Purpose
Headed to the coast
Of the Nation of Education
And there in the Sea
Of Consternation
Swimming from the Ocean
Of Despair
Was a single dolphin
And no Purpose
And I realised I’d missed the point.
When I was at school I read a poem that started it all. Quite simply, this 6th former had obviously been inspired by the wonder of nature, its bounty and its manifold abundance, in this poem:
Grass
Cow
Milk
Wow
© 2024 Naiveties and Nursery Rhymes
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
