It’s May the first, May Day. The day when as a child we would dance around the May Pole in strictly defined weaves to the sound of John Summersbee's bellowed, mother-of-pearl accordion. Plaiting and binding, twisting and turning the gaily coloured ribbons as we skipped in-and-out and around-and-around like demented elves and fairies.
Long ago now, and as I remember it the sun always shone down on the May Pole back then. No May Pole today, some sunshine though - and I have a pen and paper to doodle on. Sat here automatically scribbling, waiting to see what pops out of my pen this time, I scribble a dark lost swallow then realise that hope's in trouble, beginning to flounder a little in a life of stormy seas.
Just my mood I guess, anyway here’s my May Day doodle.
MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY, this is HOPE, HOPE, HOPE. MAYDAY, HOPE. Break. Position 52 25 North 013 33 West. My boat is on taking in water and sinking. I require immediate assistance. Three people on board, and we have no life-raft. MAYDAY HOPE, OVER."
Fantastic :)
ReplyDeleteDark and yet I am laughing. Maybe it is ringing a bell.
ReplyDelete;o)
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