Eclipse for Scibblers

Scribblers

Sunday October 8^th from 2-4pm

For anybody who is afflicted with the need to scribble

come and read what you have written

other poets and authors would love to listen

let us gather together in friendship

At the ‘Look and Sea’ Visitor Centre

above the Harbour Lights Café

overlooking the River Arun

in Littlehampton

Email me with your questions or to say

that you cannot wait to meet us: dafbelt@outlook.com

Eclipse

Even though I would have loved to travel

to America to watch with child and adult,

when the greatest eclipse in memory occurs

as the moon passes the sun, to fully occult.

Folk took holidays abroad to wait in awe,

wonder, close to fear and strange emotion.

Stargazers all, some for just that day

all don weird spectacles in their devotion.

Who asks how terrifying this was, way back

when phenomena like this were not predicted?

On an ordinary day, day became night,

was this to them, end of the world depicted?

As a marvellous passing darkens the sun, 

what a gift to see these celestial bodies.

In previous centuries utter horror begun,

this happening shared now is anybody’s.

For sure there’ll be stories sworn for be true

inexplicable, stranger than fiction tales.

A huge clock stopped, a healthy man died

silence of birds, sad cry’s of the whales.

It is possible that anybody reading this might think that I am totally mad, completely out of my tree and off my trolley. If that is indeed the case it is because I have a very full life. I have a very full head too and this is entirely my own fault if keeping fit and healthy to the degree that I do is anything to go by. You would think that I do enough physical exercise without taxing my poor soggy brain a well. The thing is, that sad little woman I may be, but I have so many interests and find it hard to put one aside to allow any of the others a chance of fulfilment.

This weeks fabulous eclipse do keep me enthralled for a while but sadly I was only able to watch it on TV and not join a Facebook friend I have in Kansas City watching the heavens for real.

Tonight my best friends which includes my husband Steve, are going to the Collector Earls Garden in the grounds of Arundel Castle where we will chatter and munch our way through a picnic, washed down with a glass of something bubbly (In the case of my man and our friend Anthony that will be mineral water), Michelle and I will have the bubbles to ourselves but since there is a two hour allocation for picnicking and then a full performance of A Midsummer Nights Dream, that won’t be hard. There is a focal point in the gardens called Oberon’s Palace made from local wood so there could not be a more perfect setting.

     Oberon's Palce inside The Collector Earls Garden, stands in front of the Cathedral 

We will all take along something warm for an extra layer in the second half when it can get chilly even in summer. This is England after all.

Swim Training this morning for me was:

400

50

50 Rolling the set four times

Total 2000 mtrs

The guys ploughed through a much longer set and still came out smiling.

Great massage yesterday Vicky Vickery, thanks pet.

Bless me, Bless Me, Bless me.

On Friday, after the 6.30 am swim session, I sneezed all the live long day. I suffer from what I call chlorine poisoning now and again. During most of the year it usually occurs on a Monday, so it was surprising to get an attack at the end of the week. Having made inquiries, I found out that the chemicals, what ever they are, it may not actually be chlorine, I don’t know that for sure, but they are added to the pool water automatically these days.

Maybe I am mistaken but I find that the sneezing fits are worse during the school holidays.

Don’t get me wrong now; I am only too happy for children to learn to swim. It would be negligent for families living in a seaside town not to send their kids for lessons before they let them play on the beach. 

However, parents need to teach the children how to behave and one little rule I was taught as a child was that you must pay a visit to the toilet before you go into the pool to swim and play. Only yesterday I did heard a child tell his parents that he ‘went in the pool’.

I struggle to keep a nose clip on but if you suffer from the chemicals then it is the only option. Stick with it and try to get used to wearing the wretched nose clip at least when the most children are visiting the pool during the school holidays.

It took me most of the day to calm my poor sinuses down and that was a bit of a worry since I knew that I had an interview via Skype with a fitness guru pod-caster from Los Angeles, Robin Legat, who wanted to talk about my experiences starting and pursuing a new sport after passing the age of forty, which in my case came after reaching fifty. We had great fun chatting about my travels and races, both good times and bad.  The talk will be recorded and Robin will let know when it will be available to hear on the internet. The programme is called ‘The Seasoned Athlete’, and that is one thing I most definitely am… Well Seasoned.

Little Chief Yellow Cloud

Holiday makers visiting for a day on the coast,

Windy on the beach but a pool too, we boast

Happily swimming making dad so proud

A little girl and boy in a toweling shroud.

The parental teaching only goes so far

‘Stay at the shallow end, don’t go out too far,

stay where your feet can touch the ground’

The girl did handstands her mummy had found.

Gradually kiddies start to get boulder

Boy and girl both jump from his shoulder

Laughter and giggles, they play for so long

Splashing and squealing and singing a song.

‘Both go with mum’, dad said ‘Down that way’

‘Go to the toilet now and do as I say’

‘No need’ said the boy, ‘I went in the pool’

Did somebody missed out that golden rule?

‘You shouldn’t do that where others can see

Go into the toilet when you need to wee’.

‘Why not’ laughed to boy ever so loud,

;’Cos they will call you Chief Yellow Cloud’!

The Worst That Could Happen

Scribblers News

I am going to call the piece I have posted here today, contemporary poetry or if you don't think it is that, (I am quite new to this modern stuff) then let us say that it is just a piece of Flash Fiction, because it is in fact exactly 500 words long and that is very often what is required in that field.

What it also is, in truth, is a race report from last Saturday, so if you don't reckon it as poetry and you don't like short stories then it is just a diary entry again.  

The Worst That Could Happen

Well, we do hear about the horrible things

that people do to other people.

The papers are full of dreadful stories

and so I understand why

my friends and family

worry about me now;

now that I am so old.

Here I am still doing things

that some people,

some a lot younger than me,

gave up attempting years ago.

You must be more careful.

That is the most common thing I hear.

Remember you are not twenty one any more

The thing is,

I like what I do

And while I can

I will go on doing it.

Last Saturday I had great fun with my friends.

We took a train to the Isle of Wight

Lots of people do that right?

Admittedly, most of them do not

bung their clothes in a bag,

stick it on the back of a van

to be transported

to the place where they will

finally arrive; after they

have swum across the bay

from Sandown Pier to where Shanklin Pier

used to be before the Great Storm destroyed it!

It was a 1.8 mile swim

without the buoyancy of a wetsuit,

they are clearly frowned upon

by the organisers of the event.

Don’t be so daft one person said to me.

Daft is it? It is not the first visit.

My friends and I look upon this

as a fun day out together,

a club outing.

We have done it for years.

Mind you, there was a moment

when I couldn’t see any other swimmers

anywhere near me, or safety canoes,

or the lifeboat for that matter.

What’s the worst that could happen?

I asked myself.

Well, I am 78 years old.

What if I got terrible cramp?

What if a got Hypothermia?

What if I had a stroke?

What if…….

A Great White Shark ate me?

There had been a sighting

off Hayling Island

five miles away

mentioned on the BBC South today news.

I had taken that with a pinch of salt,

probably just Basking Sharks;

they only eat plankton.

How do they know,

that I am not plankton.

Must be the smell I suppose.

If I were to be totally honest

I did feel better toward the end of the swim

When I saw a safety canoe close by me.

He pointed the right route out with his oar,

telling me that I was a little off course.

In actual fact, three much younger,

Muuuuuch faster swimmers than me

Did get very cold.

Uncontrollably shiveringly cold.

Even though they were in the water

a lot less time than me.

There was soup and bread at the finish.

No showers available

No changing rooms.

It was sort of communal changing

in the boat house,

each facing the walls

and not looking at each other bits.

The best part

for us lot from Littlehampton,

was that we were presented with

some pretty smart but old silverware.

We did really clean up,

with four trophy’s between us.

Nice. Good work.

Scribblers news

Scribblers

Sunday October 8^th from 2-4pm

For anybody who is afflicted with the need to scribble

come and read what you have written

other poets and authors would love to listen

let us gather together in friendship

At the ‘Look and Sea’ Visitor Centre

above the Harbour Lights Café

overlooking the River Arun

in Littlehampton

Email me with your questions or to say

that you cannot wait to meet us: dafbelt@outlook.com

This meeting is for anybody who has written a verse at all, ever and it is not aimed only at eggheads. You do not need to have taken any qualifications to come to the meeting. What I hope will happen, is that a few secret poets will come along and take a turn at reading their work.  It doesn’t matter how long you have been writing or if you have only written one thing, or if you have a little drawer full of poems or stories.

It matters not a jot if you have a perfect grasp of grammar or if you have never used a comma in your life. Much of my first months writing, in my drive to write a poem a day was dot and dash free. My reasoning being that I was the only one who would see it and my husband the only one who would hear it. However, should Carol Ann Duffy bowl along on October 8^th she can jump the queue.

My greatest downfall is that every now and again I set myself some complicated verse pattern like this one below today. Mostly, once I have something that I want to say in verse, I can get it done in one hit but this one had me working at it off and on every day this week. You may read it a think I shouldn’t have bothered, but it is such a subject that I wanted to be special and actually I have said what I wanted to say, and (here we go again) if it is your own poem, you can only do it in a way that you feel it needs to be written.

                                               C.R. with her Uncle Ben

Catie-Ross

Life is not always easy for new born babies,

her first year on earth, Catie-Ross showed this.

Some people thought she would never survive

as intensive care tubes invade this little miss.

Rarely possible to feel her mother’s lips kiss

as doctors and nurses fought to keep her alive.

Anxiety as treatment sometimes seems way amiss.

All ifs’ and buts’ and too many maybes.

Waiting was tough and hope dreadfully slight,  

the one permanent for the family was hope,

as push came to shove, they silently prayed.

Rarely a break from needles and stethoscope.

Operations stretched chance like a tightrope.

Parents and baby bonded through their crusade,

how can something so tiny possibly cope? 

Born with the spirit to fight her own fight.

She smiles and chuckles through every pain,

too often touch comes from a latex glove,

so unfair when desperately needing a cuddle,

private promises offered to heaven above.

Picture of innocence is this sweet baby dove

Doctors’ solemnly stand in a robed huddle.

This child survived on one thing, and that’s love

A family’s pilgrimage was not held in vain.

And here with Uncle Ross. Below is the most recent photo I have of her playing in the summer sunshine on the beach just like other children just past her first birthday.

Scribblers
October 8th. Don't forget to put the date in your diary.
2-4pm at the 'Look and Sea Visitor Centre in Littlehampton down by the river side.
Hope you see lots of new faces bearing sheets of scribbled poetry lines to read to us.
Email me, Daphne Belt, for find out more. 
dafbelt@outlook.com and to send me your poems to post on this blog if you fancy doing so.

Thanks Will

If only he were still here and alive

And had the centuries survived,

I’d like to give the man a hug

See him give his beard a gentle tug.

I’d like shake the great man’s hand

For plays seen on evenings planned,

Tell the bard I’m filled with pleasure

Burned in my soul to forever treasure.

Thank you Will, your plays were great

Hook line and sinker, you sealed my fate,

From childhood I have been your fan

Did your mind make me what I am?

My husband and I attended a funeral service in Shoreham followed by a short drive to the cemetery for the burial both of which were very moving due to what was a sudden death of a friends and work associate.

Poems pop into our heads for all sorts of reasons and this short one below was the child of that funeral yesterday. They are an excellent way of dealing with our emotions and I find that they work well as a kind of therapy.

Lengthening Shadows

Too late to gather rosebuds now

Missed opportunities regretted

Forgotten those to whom indebted

Selfishly ever onward plough

Passing those with whom you once duetted

Too late as shadows stretch out longer

When unsung comes the last sunset

Inevitably seen the life long threat

The current pulling all the stronger

Trickling down your neck a drop of sweat.

The old man in the sea is not Neptune rising from the water, it is just my husband Steve

at a charity swim last week in Littlehampton to raise money for operations for children born with a cleft palate, living in countries where the operation is not performed as a matter of course. Freestyle 4 smile is the charity.

Invitation to Scribblers poetry group

Scribblers

Sunday October 8^th & November 12^th at 2-4pm

For anybody who is afflicted with the need to scribble. Come and read what you have written to other poets and authors who would love to listen to you.

 Let us gather together in friendship at the ‘Look and Sea’ Visitor Centre

 in Littlehampton, above the Harbour Lights Café, overlooking the River Arun.

There is a pay and display car park nearby. Email me with your questions or to say that you cannot wait to meet us and read your poems, flash fiction, scribblings etc.

contact: dafbelt@outlook.com  More info on www.dafbelt.blogspot.co.uk

Welcome to my blog. It was formerly my sports diary and I have not posted during the summer months whilst I was busy training and competing in triathlon events. Since I don’t have any races for the next 6-7 weeks I thought it might be useful to use it to give out any more information and answers to questions that people might have about the new writing group Scribblers.

I live in Littlehampton and previously went, when I could to the Worthing WOW Write Nights when they were in Frasers Bay at the Connaught Theatre and then last year at St Pauls, just over the road from there. I thought St Pauls was a big improvement on Frasers, I personally did not like it much since the actual bar remained open and there were coming and goings while readings were in progress. I really missed those meetings and so thought I would start another closer to my home.

This blog was at first used for my own poetry but drifted into being more of a diary  as I said. If anybody has a poem they would like me to post here please sent it to me in an email and I will happily put it up. Meanwhile I will post one of mine every now and again until we get going. Email: dafbelt@outlook.com

Just to fill the space I have added a couple of photos that show evidence that about three years ago I had an accident when I was out run training and broke three bones. I was so angry with myself and had no idea how a prize fidget like me was going to cope with being out of action for a while. It was pretty soon after that I realise I must impose some sort of discipline on my self to save myself from being permanently grumpy. The idea that came up to keep me from sulking was that I must write a poem a day until my fitness was restored. I have always loved poetry even as a child but writing was new although I was always big into letter writing and had a number of pen pals as a teenager.  

I did do a full year of one a day poems but then settled down to a couple a week and have not stopped. So much about me. Let’s hear about you.

                                              Mrs Grumpy at Worthing Hospital in 2013

Deva Worlds Triathlon Championships Qualifier. Chester

Deva Worlds Triathlon Championships Qualifier. Chester.

It has been a while since I left a piece on this my diary page.  I was told that I should not post a page daily anyway because it would be less likely to be read if it was an every day thing.

Since the triathlon season has now started with a bit of a bang, I decided that I would give the whole thing a rest and that would allow me to actually get some worthwhile training done for the races I have so foolishly entered when I am easily old enough to know better.  Couple this with the fact that my husband has, after a quiet start early this year, suddenly become so busy that neither of us can find a moment to attend to anything less important. 

                                             Panarea one of the Aeolian Islands off Sicily

Steve, my husband/coach has had one long working trip abroad on top of the next starting at the beginning of May when I went with him for two weeks whilst he was working in France and based mostly in one spot. As he knuckled down to endless work, driving back and forth to the South of France chasing after clients who were on a buying trip from the USA to visit all the enormous antiques fairs in Beziers, Avignon and Montpellier, I went out on my trusty bike every day, on my own, on the blissfully quite roads of the Route des Grandes Crus of Burgundy and other equally beautiful roads.

 Biking on almost empty roads in rural France is like being in biker’s heaven for as long as it lasts. I stayed behind in a gîte a little way outside of Beaune, free to come and go at whatever hour I fancied, eat when I was hungry and rest as I pleased.

That time stood me in good stead for my first important event just two days after our return from France. We traveled up to Eton Dorney Lake near Windsor for a sprint race that was a qualifier for the sprint race at the World Triathlon Championships that will be held in Rotterdam in September. Tagging along to that was Kathy Azapardi who has been filming me on odd occasions for a motivational piece that she and a couple of colleagues have been working on that will conclude their course at Brighton film school.

Kathy stayed with us overnight before that event for the sake of simplicity, since it meant the Steve knew well where he was driving to and so would save Kathy having to find her way there as well as a bit of fuel using her own car. She had already requested and been given permission to do what filming she needed during the event by Human Race CEO Nick Rusling.  The Eton Sprints is a perfect venue to use for beginners since it is entirely traffic free making nice safe bike and run courses and a less scary first open water swim for the hundreds of new triathletes taking up the sport I have loved for donkeys years. I did get my qualifying slot for the worlds so I was happy with that.

Steve then had another long drive on a two truck job taking furniture to a big house on the tiny island of Panarea that is one of the Aeolean Islands off Sicily. This turned into a much longer trip that was planned when the ferries there went on strike and Steve and the other guy driving the second truck were stranded there for several days.

It sounds like fun but it was a difficult job because the load could only be driven off the ferry and on to the dock side and that was only small. The two truck loads of goods had to be unloaded piece by piece onto tiny little three wheeled motorised carts that in turn took the goods up dirt tracks to the house awaiting the delivery. The owners were not there, only their team of staff, so that took a great deal of time and was more than a bit testing.

 

Both Steve and I found that he did not get much in the way of sympathy for his plight since it is hard to feel sorry for somebody stuck on a paradise island that everybody else would love to spend a holiday on. The sad fact is though, that one does not get paid during spells like that but your outgoings do mount up since you still have to eat and find somewhere to stay.

And so my man had to wait on tender hooks to see when the next ferry from Naples would arrive that would start him on his much delayed journey home. It was an edgy time for me too wondering how the rest of the trip would go now that, previously laid plans were all abandoned.

Amazingly after and overnight ferry ride and two very long days driving Steve made up one of the lost days and did get home ready for us to make our next journey to the next triathlon event.  For Steve it would be an event that he had hardly been training for due to that work hold up. He did get a swim and a short run on Panarea but it is just a pretty pile of rocks so mountain hiking was all that was available.

So after Steve had unloaded his return load picked up in France, we left the next day for Deva Triathlon and the Roman City of Chester, way up in the north of the UK level with the north coast of Wales and Manchester. Deva Victrix, or simply Deva, was a legionary fortress and town in the Roman province of Britannia on the site of the modern city of Chester.

Deva was again a qualifier for the World Championships in Rotterdam at the end of the summer race season but this time the qualification would be for slots in the Standard distance race. The event tee shirt has the date on the back but it does not show that it was held on June 4^th 2017. What the shirt shows is;

IV VI MMXVII

 It was a superbly organised event with the best goody bag we have taken home in many years. These days our sport is much more about making as much money as possible and less and less is given out to the participants. At Deva as well as an excellent quality event shirt there was also an embroidered hand towel, a fine medal and umpteen sachets of this and that sports nutrition products.

The 1500 mtr swim was in the river Dee and very well marked with huge buoys. The Bike ride was a one lap undulating course in the surrounding countryside and indeed passing right by The Trevor Arms at Marford where we stayed during the trip. The whole event was extremely well marshalled and with the competitors name clearly on the race number you got shouted at by name which was great.

Having done a handful of less important events before Deva came along offering slots in the World Championships, and having done the sprint qualifier at Eton with no adverse nervous effects at all, I was more than a little alarmed when after registration for the event and a pleasant lunch in an Italian restaurant, and drive around the bike course, that when we got back to our room, I suffered panic attack, something that I have not had in a very long time. I would not have said that I was particularly nervous consciously but there it was; unmistakable.

Poor Steve was as alarmed as I was as I puffed and panted and struggled for breath, feeling so tired and having waves of nausea. It lasted for about two hours until I fell asleep. Steve said he could not believe that I passed from struggling for breath, suddenly into a peaceful sleep. HE, did not sleep, he was wide awake. Then he watched in amazement when I woke, got up and made a cup of tea as if nothing at all had happened. I slept well and woke up feeling fine. Steve had not slept well at all.

We drove to one of the excellent parking areas and walked our bikes and bags to the race venue and waited for our wave that was all competitors over fifty and the last wave at that at 9.30 am. Having had such a scare with me the evening before, Steve stayed right beside me until we had jumped into the river and swum the hundred metres to the start point. Then with a final reassurance that I was fine, we began our race.

 Steve always does a race prediction for me and this time I had emailed it to my sister and family since they were coming from forty miles away to watch our race. They would then know when to expect me. My swim was fourteen seconds faster that he predicted. My bike was just over a minute faster than he said but my run was slower.

During the run section I felt that the strain of the panic attacked had reduced my energy level but still the total time for my event was twelve seconds less that he thought so no complaints since that was good enough to give me my Worlds slot so mission accomplished. 

Swim: 37.46

T1: 4.36. I had a real struggle getting my left foot out of my wetsuit!

Bike: 1.38.55

T2: 4.05. Somebody had taken my bike place on the rack and my stuff was everywhere, I had to get a marshal to help.

Total, in spite of trash transition times: 3 hours 43mins 48 seconds.