Self portraits by Amy

While studying for GCSE and A'level Art Amy started to produce a lot of self-portrait paintings, these are a few of my favourites.

Teenage Troubles

I used to write more and much longer poems when I was a teenager, maybe I had more time back then at least for writing poetry. The five poems in my Teenage Troubles collection occupy a special place in my heart.

Dave was a caveman came second in the Hounslow Poetry Competition in 1984.
Not a very pretty sight is an earlier insight into body dysmorphia.
The Antique Junk Shop has developed into a YouTube video.
Who's been corrupting our son? is about my brother and his teenage friends.
Inadequacy comes from the same place as my interest in 'Unspirational' and Stoicism.

A Mindful Day in London Town

As you may know me and my family have been going through a tough time lately. Things I have been keen on encouraging, in the face of mental health issues, over-reliance on technology, pressures of the consumer and materialitstic world have been; philosophy (thank you School of Life), mindfulness (via 3rd wave CBT and Bhuddism), connections to church and charity, music and the creative arts. In order to further exploration of these areas, I was happy to take part in the mindfulness open day at the West London Bhuddist Centre.

The two big sessions of the day were one hour of yoga followed by one hour of meditation. There was a lot of therapy involved, with just a hint of Bhuddism, I felt. Afterwards we enjoyed an afternoon in Hyde Park followed by a Chinese meal.

     

          

On Sunday we visited our local church for a farewell service followed by a leaving meal. The activities at the Bhuddist and the Christian centres both had a very good vibe to them, making me feel that it was fine pursuing the ideas of both religions at the same time.

The Bogginsthrops and other curiousities

I wrote the Bogginsthrops and other curiousities when I was a teenager and recently drew illustrations for each of the seven characters. The Bogginsthrops were a family of three brothers and one sister and the curiousities were their three friends. Below are brief descriptions of the seven characters, I may develop their stories further in the future.

1. George Bernard Shaw Bogginsthrop
'The neighbours didn't like the eccentric, hippi, vegetarian philanthropist who practised his sitar in the middle of the night and meditated whenever there was a convenient moment free from the worries of mankind.'

2. Emily Bronte Bogginsthrop
'Emily Bronte Bogginsthrop was a very nice, acceptable girl who tried hard to be a social misfit like her brothers.'

3. Edgar Allan Poe Bogginsthrop
'Edgar had only to pop his head round the front door and he would receive apprehensive glances from the neighbours who passed by, even from the lady who carried her pet albino rat underneath her fur hat.'

4. Walter de la Mare Bogginsthrop
'Walter was of a very nervous disposition, he chain smoked roll-ups and had a terrible railing cough.'

5. Ciggy
'Ciggy Fagash, otherwise known as Diaphragm Sam or just plain Dire, sang, mumbled, shrieked, snarled, screamed and generally played havoc with the unfortunate listener's eardrums, it was quite a feat in itself that the group managed to keep in time and occasionally in tune.'

6. Acid
'Acid was always in a bad mood and Emily sympathised with Ciggy for having a sister like that.'

7. Patti
'The girl had dark hair and pale skin, she wore dark clothes and was bony in places.'

Seven Stages of Teenage Angst

When I was going through my adolescent poetry I found seven very short poems that I thought worked well as a poetry cycle which I have called 'The seven stages of teenage angst'. You can find more of my adolescence poetry in Teenage Troubles on my WattPad pages.

 

Pictures for an exhibition

Amy was a talented artist as a small child and continues to be an artistic teenager. These are a few of the artworks she has created in recent years. You can find more of her pieces on her Amythestjasmine Pinterest channel.

Pictures of Bowie

About this time last year I shared my Beatle Dreams with my blog. Now, with the passing of Bowie, I thought I would share the pictures of Bowie I drew and painted as a teenager. He was important to me as I was growing up, I think he helped me feel less freaky and alone and I still enjoy his music today.

 

   

   

Selfies from the Eighties

I was angst ridden as a teenager. Very keen on dead pop stars, Edgar Allan Poe and horror portmanteau films like Dead of Night and From Beyond the Grave. I still have similar tastes, but have lightened up considerably since then. Accompanying my gloomy self-portraits from my adolescence is a gloomy self-portrait in poetic form called 'Not a Very Pretty Sight'.

Not a Very Pretty Sight by Lorna Wadge

Someone looks out through the bathroom steam

There is a strange reassurance, things are not all they seem

Fingernails squeeze her skin curiously

In a desperate attempt to cure the acne

She can hardly see through an overgrown fringe

As she reaches for the baby soap and starts to cringe

I have heard about reflections

They make you look pretty by distorting the view

Just shows how many people gaze at themselves

Haven't they anything better to do

She looks slightly sallow and painfully thin

What a terrible state to get herself in

Her hair is reminiscent of a sad drowned rat

She wonders what she is looking at

Who could she possible be today?

When all teenagers are infamous anyway

She looks so ill, so unhealthily pale

It is not so attractive being young and female

Her eyes are anxious, dull and brown

They are looking at life when it is upside down

She dislikes herself from her head to her toes

And she is paranoid about her nose

How could anyone live with something like that?

She is wetter than the bathroom mat

Her mouth is dry, her thin lips are cracked

you can see the signs of a blues attack.

Freckles hide phobias, adolescence hides the smiles

Damp hides the scratches on the bathroom tiles

She looks rather tired, she knows it is all in vain

When I look in the mirror I will see her again

Xenophobia Magazine

I worked on Xenophobia in the 1980s in my teens. It was inspired by Smash Hits. My musical tastes at the time were New Romantic and Goth. Inside are features on Altered Images and Japan (the pop group), also art galleries and baroque influences. I made up two of my own groups, Beautiful Europeans and Bondage Strap, and also my own lyrics to imagined songs.

Another Day, Another Place

I originally wrote my play 'Another Day, Another Place' when I was eighteen after experiencing a 'holiday of a lifetime'; a three week coach tour of central and southern Europe. I have updated and condensed the play into a seven minute video, which includes more countries in north, west and eastern Europe, that I visited in my late teens and early twenties. The play was really about self-discovery and the friendships, loves and break-ups experienced by the young people on the tour bus, rather than a great appreciation of the places we were visiting. The accompanying music is made up of two songs written by me when I was seventeen and eighteen 'I can see you' and 'Waiting for me'.

The Excuse

Over the years I have enjoyed a number of exercise activities; swimming, which I still enjoy on Saturdays, all kinds of dancing, yoga and walking, which, not having a car, is also a necessity. However, at school PE was my least favourite subject, an attitude I shared with my best friend. This is an excuse letter I wrote to get her out of one particular games lesson. Unfortunately it was not taken seriously and she had to do the class anyway. The accompanying picture is by Amy.

 

Dear P.E. Staff,

Could you please excuse Alison from her P.E. Lesson as resorcinol and crystalline organic compounds have diffused and demolished her anti-bodies leaving her with a panachronism and making her myopic. She also has a thallium in her central nervous system which has devastated her libido and she is now waiting for 'good old' lobotomy which will hopefully cure her of her schizophrenia and xenophobia. At the moment she is undergoing treatment for her chronic social disorders and we are transferring her to another psychiatrist as the previous one went mad and is now dwelling in a lunatic asylum south of Watford. Despite her leanings towards anarchy and her militant tendencies which cause her to go impuris naturalis, she is strictly and strategically opposed to the filthy capitalist bourgeois pigs and the mediocrity that surrounds the succession of imperialists in pre-revolutionary Prussia. She is willing to disregard her objectives and maintain an elevated degree of over righteous sanity and stability for the good of the welfare state. Alison is a very sensitive five foot five demented gnome, would-be-hippi, who is a member of a samarium, occasional druid and her increasing interest in the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks have led to the acknowledgement of the nuclear fallout shelter in the back garden. She is mentally deficient at the sanest of times and has occasional lapses of intensity which is only too common in manic depressives and delinquents. Alison has an inbuilt inferiority complex which led me to the conclusion that her grey matter is not as green as I once suspected. I have always found her very pleasant when she is not around. She has an atrocious claudication in the ninety degree, neither acute nor obtuse, wooden means of support and she is suffering with convoluted nervous tissue in her skull which has left her with exhaustion and brain fag. We hope that her allegiance with Satan and the fact that she is a hypochondriac and psychopath will not detain her for an abnormal length of time at the sanatorium. I hope you will understand as she still has gruelling primal therapy sessions to overcome.

Yours metaphysically,

The hunched backed antichrist with green teeth and a degree in melodramatic hair-dos with a tendency to hypocrisy

(AKA Alison's mother)

Dave the Cave

My poem 'Dave was a Caveman' came second in the Hounslow Poetry Competition and was also featured in my college magazine. I wrote it when I was fifteen about the teenage boys I was encountering at home and at school.

Dave was a Caveman by Lorna Wadge

Dave was a caveman in disguise
He wore dark glasses to hide his eyes
He was such a poor, pathetic sight
That people would ask 'Are you all right?'

Dave felt he was a slave to everyday matters,
With his hair uncombed and greasy
And his clothes in fading tatters,
Dave lit his cigarette and took a drag,
He sighed a sigh of deep depression
Which gave the impression
That he had brain-fag

Dave thought he could be a politician,
An artist, a poet or a rock musician
Dave thought he could act, he thought he could sing
But Dave you can't do anything

Dave thought he was important,
All knowing and all seeing
His mother said, 'Hey Dave,
Act more like a human being.
The neighbours will think there's something wrong.'
Of course they would have been right,
There was something wrong with everyone,
Dave had seen the light.

Dave was a cavemen, Dave was deep,
Dave was only happy when he was asleep,
He lived at the bottom of a dead end street,
Dave was a cavemen, Dave was a creep

Dave coud be defiant
When he was so incliend,
He fierecly made bold statements,
He stood up for his kind,
For forgotten adolescents
The world had left behind,
He spoke with fire and passion
And then he changed his mind.

Some people think he's civilised
Which cames as a surprise,
Considering that Dave
Was a caveman in disguise