Showing posts with label messages. Show all posts
Showing posts with label messages. Show all posts

Sunday, 29 November 2015

Shops and Robins


A couple of days ago a Facebook friend posted this robin message. It struck a chord as a few weeks ago my partner's mother mentioned she had been in the garden shed sorting out apples from her garden when a robin flew in and refused to leave for about ten minutes, just sitting on the work bench as it watched her. A couple of months previously she had lost her husband after a long illness. His name? Robin! I joked that perhaps it was a sign from him, but something that the rest of us would leap at as a sign, she still seemed doubtful about. It would take a lot to convince her mathematical and no nonsense nature, which is not given to any kind of flight of fancy.

Work has been exceptionally busy lately as I project-managed the refurbishment of an emtpy run-down Victorian shop into a new off-campus housing and advice base for the University of Sussex on top of the rigors of the day job. There were weeks where I literally ate, breathed and slept the shop and most of my own life went out the window, but luckily it was all ready on time for the launch and has been very well received. For my part it has been a pleasure to breath new life into a beautiful old building and ensure it retained its character amidst incorporating the necessary mod cons and professional finish. It was one of those gems that every little girl dreams of opening a shop in - full of space and light with wide double-fronted window seat areas.

Now I have gone back to one of my other projects - which is setting up a website for Brighton and Hove Heritage Commission, a campaigning group intent on saving Brighton and Hove's increasingly threatened heritage.

Saturday, 27 September 2014

No Pain, No Gain...?

No Pain, No Gain...?

My stomach protests what it can't digest
My incisors hurt when I'm indecisive
My limbs stiffen when I'm inflexible
My blood goes anemic when I lack iron
My heart aches when it's broken
My voice is lost when things go unspoken 
My nose runs when I'm run down
I risk the big C if I let things eat away at me
Whenever I risk going off track
My body gives me a symptom
to nudge me back
But why, oh why, doesn't the bloody thing just send me an email?

                                                        ©LS King 2014