And Its Goodnight From Me - Days Gone By

In the 1920’s the Highdown Hotel was then Highdown Manor, a home of class and distinction to an aristocratic family of wealth and high reputation. The stables would have housed horses, both for work and riding pleasure. What better way to explore the Sussex Downs than on horseback. Elegant and sophisticated summer afternoon tea parties would have been held in the art deco designer gardens. Maybe even dances or even a ball. All exquisite reasons to get dressed up in regal finery and show off your status. Were these wonderful social occasions for fun and pleasure or were they really a way of rubbing the noses of friends and acquaintances in it as to how well one was doing? Now this elegant home, once a symbol of status and wealth, is a hotel, a very elegant hotel of course. The stables are now guest accomodation, all en suite naturally. The family house that was, is home to a fine carvery restaurant and an elegantly designed bar. Upstairs is a function room, a venue for weddings and other parties. What an awesome setting for a wedding, at least that is giving this beautiful building some of its glamour back.

© Jem Farmer, all rights reserved.

600 seconds at lunch - Icelandic Poets

OK firstly I am never asking my mother for a prompt again!!! I don’t know any Icelandic poets, unless Magnus Magnusson counts. Was he a poet as well as Mastermind host and dad to Sally. That fearsome black chair, ‘I’ve started so I’ll finish’ just doesn’t sound the same coming from John Humphries. X/x/x//, there that’s the catchphrase scanned, so a bit of poetry theory too. Really can’t get used to Meter, stressing and unstressing speech. Stressing me out it is! Too bad I want level three so the poems in my portfolio have to be in form and not my normal freestyle. Too restrictive for a freewriter like me but I want the qualification so needs must for a year or so. Actually mum this one worked good I am out of time.

© Jem Farmer, all rights reserved.

Morning Pages - Prepare to be Assimilated

‘This carriage is two of eight’ drones the mono-toned announcement from the train speakers. I feel like I am surrounded by the Borg from Star Trek, no doubt I will be assimilated shortly. The coffee is ghastly, maybe they have put something in it as part of the assimilation process. Maybe we all have been taken over already, the three of us in carriage two of eight have all just done the robot thing and said ‘Yes, I am on the train’ into our respective mobile phones. I was going to try and scan people today, but am having doubts now as the guy opposite is way too camp for me to do this seriously. Seems his maid has pulled a sickie and he’s trying to get cover from an agency. He’s having a fit as apparently it means his flat won’t get cleaned till Monday. Is he on this planet? So the maid is ill, get up off your ass and do it yourself! What a gimp!

© Jem Farmer, all rights reserved.