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	<title>Redemption Blues &#187; Mary</title>
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	<description>Abstract: Autobiography or confessional? The title is not plagiarised from the literary offering by a certain Mr. Tim Griggs, but that of a short story that has been languishing in my archives for over ten years, an ironic comment on the requirement in modern Western society for a female to be attached and the difficulties in attaining this state of “bliss”.</description>
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		<title>Five</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=403</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=403#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 01 Mar 2009 09:44:48 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Leaning on the draining board, tea towel for padding, yet your elbows still bruised, the newspaper strategically folded to reveal the crossword as the starlings perched along the empty washing line.&#160; The drowsy hum of the bees at the Tummel mint, in the shade of the parasol planted in the border you watched his infant&#8217;s [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Kate</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=244</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=244#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 14 Jan 2007 11:41:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Every week my Mother would drive up to 12 Campsie Road in her dark green Austin Allegro nicknamed Syd after the fortuitous arrangement of numbers on the registration plate to enquire after my Grandmother Kate’s shopping needs (usually a few tins and a half loaf from the nearby Co-op), to deliver the Daily Mail (she [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Recording Angel</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=169</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=169#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 18 Sep 2005 15:31:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=169</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Having sliced the grapefruit, Oti watched as I struggled to dissect it without discourteous spray, no easy task when a tablespoon is the combined cutting and scooping implement.  “It reminds me of tonic,” she informed me as she sipped the mug of tea flavoured with a dash of lemon juice (having gallantly washed her [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Weeping Willow</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=73</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=73#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 19 Sep 2004 20:41:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[“And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cells”
Keats, To Autumn
A film of condensation protects the modesty of the veranda panes following my bath with door ajar. The lawn is damp with mid-morning dew and wasps zigzag wearily above the moss. The intruding [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Scythe</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=62</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=62#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 31 Aug 2004 20:30:29 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=62</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Tis God that lifts our comforts high
Or sinks them in the grave,
He gives and takes bless&#8217;d be his name
He takes but what he gave.
(1799).
[Diary entry, 1994]
The imbecilic drone of the radio continues long after the kitchen has emptied. Undaunted, unaware like some self-important attention-basking airhead punctuating her inane utterings with a laugh or a coquettish [...]]]></description>
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		<title>Laburnum Spray</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=57</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=57#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 25 Aug 2004 20:25:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=57</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Twenty-four hour supermarket shopping, wander down the aisles between the smoked bacon and pasteurised milk, the washing powder and multi-coloured fizzy drinks, the cat food in plastic pouches and the greetings cards, row upon row of glossy magazines and coffee granules in jars. The local bakery with Scotch pies: greyish meat of indeterminate origin bulked [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>A Flask of Magic Mushroom Coffee</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=52</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=52#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 08 Aug 2004 20:18:18 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Autobiography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Chameleon Lite]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=52</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[[1994]
“I could murder a cup of tea,” she would say, heading for the kitchen. “The house of the ever boiling kettle” as my then boyfriend dubbed it. Tea for welcome. Rich Tea, Digestive, custard creams. Tea for comfort, tea for study. Tea for contemplation. Tea with three Hermesetas and two sugars for my Dad. Tea [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Cucumber Sandwiches</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=40</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=40#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 21 Jul 2004 20:04:29 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Chameleon Lite]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Diary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=40</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The bells announcing the end of the vote send officials scurrying through the corridors barely wide enough to allow two people to pass without catching a whiff of after-shave or deodorant.  Greased-back hair and pinstripes the uniform of the ruthless self-promotionalists milling in front of the chamber with expressions blank until the chosen target [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Peonies</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=25</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=25#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 22 Jun 2004 19:48:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=25</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[When Death doth come in its full rage,
It spares not young nor old;
But cuts them down at any age,
It will not bribe with gold.
Take warning then all ye,
Who read this passing by;
And learn to live so that ye,
Be not afraid to die.
(1820).

O, March 9th.
Dear Dad,
I am sitting at my desk in the study upstairs in [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?feed=rss2&amp;p=25</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Intermission</title>
		<link>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=21</link>
		<comments>http://www.redemptionblues.com/?p=21#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 19 Jun 2004 19:43:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>site admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Diary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mary]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">/?p=21</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[A green beer bottle, label torn off, deposited in a defunct devotional niche. At the bus stop my reading interrupted by the incongruous sound of a man whistling Land of Hope and Glory.
I could not resist knocking on the Welshman’s door. Spectacles perched on his nose, he sits hunched over his designer black keyboard all [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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