Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

TOAST












The smell of toast reminds me of my father,

Not only because he was cremated.

He made it every morning, in strips three to a slice of bread,

Golden soaked with butter as a happy death.



My mother was the smell of damp wool, flooring wax

Down a gruel-dim hall, nail polish remover and hairspray,

The Roman triumph of a Sunday roast on a tray,

And over them both, the maudlin miasma of tobacco.




It is said that oxygen is odourless,

But surely only to our human noses,

As we sniff our way from pillar to post,

Ashes to ashes, toast to toast.




Wednesday, February 6, 2013

5 REASONS TO EAT ORGANIC FOOD




We are constantly being told that some new survey demonstrates that there is no nutritional difference between eating supermarket chain foods grown with chemical fertilisers and pesticides, and organically grown foods.

Here are five reasons to eat organic foods:

1. They taste better.

2. You will avoid ingesting poison residues from pesticides and chemical fertilisers.

3. Organic growing enriches the soil, chemical farming depletes it.


4. They are usually grown by small, often local growers, so your money goes to a grower in your community instead of to a faceless food industrial/supermarket conglomerate, and with fewer food miles it is once again better for the environment.

5. If organic foods taste better, are poison-free, are better for the environment and deliver returns to your community through fostering local growers, then are they not nourishing you better, and therefore more nutritious?

Oh, and 6., if you shop at a food coop, they may be no more expensive - or even cheaper - than supermarket food.








Tuesday, February 5, 2013

ETERNITY







When I die I shall miss the taste
Of that first sip of tea in the morning,
Assuming of course there is no tea,
Nor, for that matter, any morning.
One thing I shall not miss
Will be other people’s music,
Which translates directly as other people,
Though unlike the tea and the morning
They may well be there,
The whole rowdy lot of them,
In which case I would have to learn
To love them all, which might take a while,
So it is fortunate indeed that this time
For that there will be an eternity.