Shakespeare Challenge: submerge

Collins online dictionary allows ‘to hide or suppress’ as a definition of submerge. Which is the definition I’ve chosen as I have no intention of playing with or near water today.

About three years ago I bought a small plant in a small pot; Fragaria vesca or Alpine Strawberry. It was one of those impulse buys that afflict people when they wander aimlessly around garden centres and feel they ought to buy something as they’ve made the effort of coming in the first place. Even if it is only £2.00.

We have a border at the side of the house, about 6 metres by 1 metre. Or 6 yards by 1 yard. To be more accurate, it’s actually 6 strides by 1 stride. It’s tended to be a dumping ground for shrubs while we move things around in other parts of the garden. As such it is often neglected and prone to invasion by weeds. I planted Fragaria vesca in a corner at one end of this border.

Now, in its third Spring it has travelled the entire length and width of the border. Weeds are submerged and what shrubs there are, struggle to keep their branches above the onslaught of bright green. As an added bonus we first get blossom and then sweet, albeit small, fruits.

Talking of Shakespeare, we went to the ballet to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream not so long ago. As a child Anniemay always wanted to be a ballet dancer, but that ambition was cruelly thwarted. Whenever the ballet came to her home town, she was locked in the cellar for a month and fed nothing but coal. So we now go whenever we get the chance.

I too would like to have been a dancer - Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire or John Travolta - but I am afflicted by clumsi-itis. One of the reasons I started playing in a band was so I wouldn’t have to dance with the girls and embarrass myself.

Sometimes, when we’re just pottering round the house doing mundane tasks (ironing, cleaning ….) Anniemay turns up the volume on the radio and we boogie around to our hearts content, all those inhibitions successfully submerged; me ‘Dad dancing’ and her doing the ‘Sugar Plum Duff’.

So for Scribbler's poem-a-day challenge:

I’d love to be a dancer
I ‘d love to dance a lot
In the days of King Arthur
I’d be Sir Prance-a-lot

I envy all the dancers
They always get the girl
I long to take her in my arms
And give my love a twirl

The only time I’m confident
Is when I’ve had a drink
I had a go at tap-dancing
But fell into the sink

I’d love to be a dancer
The way they move with ease
It’s hard to be that graceful
When you’ve got dodgy knees