Author Rebecca Mugridge: RECIPE - Chilled Chai Refresher

Author Rebecca Mugridge: RECIPE - Chilled Chai Refresher

Round Robins - Oh please !

I feel compelled to write this today after receiving something I dread every year...the Christmas newsletter. They are appalling, I loathe them I feel that frankly If it is the only time of year you can tell me what you are up to is via an A4 amateurish photo-shopped letter then please just don't bother.

I sometimes write a note in a Christmas card, granted, especially if I know that for example the person concerned has had a momentous event in their life or I am giving them a nudge about meeting up in the new year.



This one today ( and it is not even Dec 1st) is full of what little Catlin and Imogen have been up to - I've never met them, I am sure they are their parents pride and joy - but really, honestly, am I interested in whether, Catlin has swum a whole width in swimming class, or Imogen has learned fecking London's Burning on the recorder. In a word - no. There parents have not physically spoken to me in nearly 9 years.

There are many people know as a family, who do this abhorrent thing and I have to admit that in the past I been very tempted to write one for us. There was one year- we had had the most appalling year...just for a change, she says with a big grin on her face. My father had died, and my mother had just been diagnosed with breast cancer - yes that sort of a fab year. We were all sitting at lunch remonstrating about the pile of offensive 'newsletters' neatly stacked on the dresser and I begged my DM to let me write one for us.

I was going to basically to announce to our collective Christmas card lists which probably total 400 people that since my Papa's untimely demise and DM's diagnosis that I had gone completely off the rails, that I had a crack habit, that I was hardly able to string a sentence together (nothing new there then) and that my sister in reaction to all of this had become a prostitute. I was not allowed- :(. DM is game for most of my silliness and in fact on most occasions thinks up far more 'interesting ideas' than I - I am glad really because it would have meant stooping to their ridiculous level.

So if you are thinking about sending me a 'Newsletter' 'Round Robin' 'Family 2009' or other such absurdities then just don't waste the postage. If you are someone I genuinely care about then I know what is happening in your life and there is a 99% chance that I like your children.

On the bottom of all of my work-related signatures previously, there has been a PS save trees - do not print this strap-line - take heed and don't waste the paper !!!





Right, I have said it, it is off my chest now, thank you .....

Thoughts on a cold January Morning.

I can feel my heart beating,
I can see the cars,
The flag, The flowers,
The beautiful,beautiful flowers,
He is here and we must go.

I can feel my heart beating,
Please don't drop him,
Please don't drop him,
I climb the nine steps behind him,
The can hear the blood rushing in my ears.

I can feel my heart beating,
As I walk down the aisle behind him,
So different from the time before,
hundreds of pairs of eyes on us,
I can feel a gloved hand clutching mine,
They are waiting, watching, I cannot breathe.

I can feel my heart beating,
I can hear an organ swelling, people singing,
Half smiling, I wish they would go,
I wish I could turn and run, I wish I could scream
stop.

I can feel my heart beating,
As they place him down,
I put a reassuring hand on him,
I kiss him,
I take my place and don't take my eyes off him

I can feel my heart beating,
I smell incense and hear muffled words,
I can't breathe, The gloved hand is still in mine,
I must be brave, I cannot falter, I must be brave.

I can feel my heart beating,
People talking at me,
Mumbling reassuring words,
Congratulating me on my dignified performance,
I wish they would go,
Leave me alone. I just want him.

I can feel my heart beating.

29 January 2001

Three hours old

The most overwhelming feeling on earth,

A love so pure and true,

like a tap turning on, there is no return,

my heart is captured forever.

So perfect, so new,

Eyes staring into mine, taking my breath away

and stopping my heart.

I can't stop smiling, I am bursting with pride,

Someone so tiny,

I love her so.

Her little hand wrapped around my finger,

I never want to let it go.

I will love her and protect her for all of my life,

I am someone now.

31/07/98

Daddy's Girl

Fathers and their daughters - huh?

Holding his big strong hand,

Feeling safe from the world with one big hug.

Gone, taken, never to feel that again.

Pain, excruciating,indescribable pain

My world shattered,

My family decimated, so alone.

Learning to stand on my feet again,

Get out of bed in the morning,

work, smile, carry on - so hard to hide from my despair.

Silly things....

His fingerprints still on the window where he leant to close it.

His mug pushed to the back of the cupboard.

His slippers still lined up regimentally by his dressing table.

The smell of his aftershave on the jumper still on the back of his chair.

He is not in the next room, the happy memories are too painful to entertain.

I must be brave, I am told, think of happier times, be strong.

I just want him back, showing me what to do, telling me off for not using raw plugs,

Raising his eyes to the gods, when I miss a shot. Laughing at me for being gullible.

'You are such a Daddy's girl,inseparable, so close.' people remark.

Yes I am a Daddy's girl,

...and I always will be!

January 2001

Views from a roof

' I keep telling her she has the best view in London'

Just words, justification for disorder,

What I see is different,

What I see is beauty,

Shining, glistening in the sunlight,

It's reflection in the puddles left from the overnight rain.

It's metal blades casting a shadow in the midday sun,

A haze in the distance obscuring the landmarks.

What I see isn't materialistic or shallow,

not a status symbol.

What I see is life, cutting edge, vivid, stark, sometimes horrific images,

What I see is a different view everyday.

How am I supposed to be feeling?

lucky? grateful?

What I feel is pride and privilege,

What I feel is different, an opposing view,

a different vision.

I do have the best view in London,

I do have the best view of this strange yet magical world,

- but not because she says I should.

June 2002