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My Diary For 2023

Every year I write a blog post about which diary system or set up I am going to use for the following twelve months. In recent years, I have moved away from a Filofax (I trialled something earlier this year - more of that in a minute) and fallen in love with the Hobonichi printed diaries. For the last two years I have used a Hobonichi Weeks as my personal planner and I won't be deviating from that this year. I have tried a Hobonichi Techo A6 a couple of times but have never managed to feel comfortable with it size-wise.  I have always lusted after the Hobonichi Cousin A5 as a main work planner so, this year, I have bitten the bullet at launch time and invested in my very first one. Hobonichi Weeks The Hobonichi Weeks is a slim diary with a yearly, monthly and weekly layout. The main section is a "week to view with notes" and there are an additional 70 note pages at the back. This year (2022) I used the "Mega" version which comes with almost three times as m

Poetry Corner

Today's post is from Louise, who blogs over at "Defective Tykewriter" (although the blog is collecting dust once again...).  Louise is a serial procastinator, sporadic writer and is sometimes published.  She offered me a selection of poems but I've decided to print all three.  Over to Louise...

* * *


They say that the
Souls of dead sailors
Live On as porpoises

And as your bodies
In your watery grave

Maybe your soul
Was swimming

And the tears
That you cried
When the last lifeboat
Was lowered

Perhaps they fell
On the faces
Of those you loved

Last kisses of saltwater

And the screams
Of those left behind
Sound so like the gulls

Maybe your soul is flying


Rotting he lies
On gentle grass
Stomach distending
Skin black and bloated

Maggots and blowflies
Caress putrid flesh
His fluids staining
The hallowed ground

No burial for him
No discreet grave
Nor polite cremation
But bones gathered, and kept

No ashes to ashes
But corpse to bones
Scientific knowledge
Revealed like intestines

On the body farm
The dead are decaying
Pioneers of the forensic world

a.k.a. how to tell a four year old the dog died)

At peace - I said
Not in pain anymore
It's like being asleep
For a very
Long time.

The park was bleak
I was in tears
She was silent.

She's in a better place
I said
And she was very

(Older than Grandad)

And it's okay to be sad
I said
Death is a very sad thing
I said,
Wiping the tears away

She looked at me
I can't open my sweets
She said.