June 29, 2015

Dawg Gone Cat

               Soon as I saw the empty food dish I went into leaving-your-pet-too-long mode!  Get a sitter or a walker...!!

Hey! Cat -you've got the freedom to go out and hunt your own
while I can't get my dinner till my owner's come on home
You think your so superior with slinky-slanty eyes
but I've a bite so snappy and with quick and clean surprise!

And I'm not all that choosy as to who would taste my bite
so you're lucky you're in on you're own this fine and hungry night
I guess I'll go and have a gnaw at that old bone again
but it's not as near as filling as my meat and biscuit grain

I wonder where they really go when they're home late from work
they take so long then wonder why I go a bit berserk......
So think your damn self lucky you've the freedom of the place
and wipe that smarmy feline-scowl off of your pretty face!

 *            *              *          *

Hey! - Dog - you think it's lucky to be out there in the world
that I'm always happy here indoors all fed and warm and curled?
Have you ever tried to catch your own? How perfectly absurd!
takes the strength of Cleopatra to catch either mouse or bird!

No! It's not a nice place out there, you're not always treated right
that is the reason most cats wait to go out late at night
But I'm longing till they're back too - I'm hungry just like you
if only we had thumbs and learned to twist that opener too!

Yes I know from where your coming, such a long and fearful wait
till we hear the engine of that car, or squeaking of that gate
But i think it's time for protest and a little bit of grit
pick your corner brother, and let's drop a real big shit!


June 26, 2015

A Right Tough Mudder

I would like to give a huge 'Well Done' to my son Ross (PrettyBoy) and his workmates at the hospital,  who helped in raising a cool two and a half million pounds. They  faced a 12 mile assault course that had a range of brutal obstacles, including iced underwater cage, barbed wire crawl every mile,  electric shock pass through, artificial enema,  rat drop and more mud than a hippo would need in a lifetime!  It took the guys just over 4 hours to complete the task.

The annual event, called the Tough Mudder Challenge, is growing every year, and I believe America has an even more extreme version of the course.  The majority of the cash raised is for the Help For Heroes Military charity that helps both the wounded and widowers' families effected from Afganistan soldiers and aid workers during conflicts.

I've popped up a few snaps (including one of his cut and scraped knee caps), in pride of Ross and his friends who trained hard for the event.  Full course finishers were awarded a T-Shirt and other little keepsakes.  So congrats to all you tough mudder fudders!   I'd start training for the next summer event now if I were you guys!

June 24, 2015

Jacob. He's a Little Cracker!

Let me introduce the latest addition to our clan.......little Jacob - weighing in at a whopping 10lb!  He's home from hospital now and no doubt sleeping through all the excitement surrounding him.  Jacob is my 5th step grandchild and The Cheaper Half is delighted to add another boy to the mix!

Being 500 miles away in Scotland is a bit unfortunate but we're planning a journey as soon as possible.   I wish my stepson Seany and my step daughter-in-law, Sam, all the best (and a little rest) and for Jacob and his two sisters Mia, and Layla, and brothers Kian, and Ryan, many happy, loud, grazed knees days to come.  There's nothing like a baby to warm the heart. 

June 22, 2015

Those Returnings

The morning came with coffee
and a sack of mute replies
Voices rasped with consternation,
pity in each other's eyes

They'd make safe conversation
as shouts battered the hotel
A heroine in satin sheets
and vast chaotic shell

The night before when neon
lit the contours of her shape
And flashes flattered every inch
of common man's escape

Kisses talking loudly
on her beautiful behalf
Left the same simplistic yearning,
cigarette and autograph

                                     written for Magpie Tales

June 20, 2015


I know I shouldn't mock but I can't get over how many blokes (particularly in our  male dominated family) are terrified of spiders.  I'm the chief spider catcher of the house, quite happy to pick them up and cup them in my hands for safe ejection as I don't allow any  'pidies to be killed indoors.  I've had many a panic-induced, mushy stain left over carpet and wall.  Of course, I understand that spiders can be dangerous in many countries but not ours and trying even to get them being thankful for that alone still didn't gain them any respect!  But overall, apart from the odd cobweb, what real harm do they do?

My older son, PrettyBoy, a Serco Security Guard, who as a child of 5 or 6 would have sat through The Exorcist and take on board that it's only a film  (he didn't so get those receivers down before you dial that Childline number!)  is still not keen in shooing them. 

But, PeaPod, my sensitive 21 year old,  whose friends and he I've chased many a time up the garden with 'pidie-in-closed-hand, is so arachnophobic that he states even the very name 'spider'  is frightening enough and now wants to refer to them as  'intruders'.

Fair do's.  But here's hoping he's not got a bedroom window open when screaming 

  ''Help - there's an intruder in my room!'  

Wonder how he'd explain that one to the police!

June 15, 2015

Sweet Venom

Poison Ivy on the phone - why can't you leave that man alone?

Infatuation, bold as brass, when they're alone within his class
Padded lips in twisted smile, eyes hypnotic, blue beguile
Manipulator, nonchalant, a marriage-wrecking debutante
Feeling those defences wane, as scents and smirks drive him insane

Poison Ivy on the phone, oh, how those lips and breasts have grown

Cascading hair in shades of gold, all sun-kissed, loved and uncontrolled
Addressing him in gingham frocks, bruise on thigh, and lacy socks
Suffocating steps too close, oh what those deep breaths could disclose and 
Nonesuch mind carries away the guilt he feels on this fine day

Poison Ivy on the phone - those silences you don't bemoan

Her following of wanton boys, whose soul and heart she soon destroys
Fail to sway her thoughts to them, this faceted, relentless gem
Who will not stop and so Hell bent, meaning every word she meant
That satin sheets and softer skin explode new senses deep within

Poison Ivy on the phone, please will you leave that man alone

Too much at risk, so quick to fool, something he never taught at school
So finalise and disengage, this girl around his own one's age
No more detentions, drives and lessons, before things run into confession
Just set aside those rights from wrongs - for we've been married far too long

© Pernickety Nell 2015

June 12, 2015

♯ iPodding Well Hope They Meant It ! ♯

  On a rather quiet bus ride home this morning, I was aware of a pair of female passengers a few seats up on the opposite side, looking round a few times.  I didn't know them so continued to stare out the window, listening to my music regardless.  It wasn't until we were all getting off at the terminus that things became clearer.  

Unplugging my earphones to thank the driver and in readiness to cross the busy road, one friend said to the other, loudly, and for my benefit:

"I think it's rude having to listen to other people's music on buses."

( Yikes! - I had the volume up a tad too high for the past couple of miles! )

The friend replied:

"I know!  AND she must have been about 40 as well! 

I turned 51 in January.  Cheers ladies!    


June 07, 2015

☼ Depressive Dan? ☼

He wanders round the tenements 
all broken glass and dust
Pride's gone out the window
hard to cope and readjust

No jobs or second chances
just the mighty hand of fate
Who clips you round the lughole
if your patience fails to wait

A trail of pure stagnation
answers economic fuss
Not many other topics 
for the worried to discuss

Houses held in high regard
now derelict and damp
Wall to wall frustrations
in the glow of spirit lamps

Fingers crossed for food banks
and offers to wet nurse
What's the point of popping off those clogs
you can't afford a hearse!

Hunger pangs and ulcers
colds attacking to the core 
Be glad of stuffy noses 
now that hygiene's out the door!

Everyone in equal wanton
stuck like glue to the same spot 
Where it matters not an inkling
if you're family or not

So, what held these folks together
down this cold and bitter path
The belief in healing music
the capacity to laugh

Life throws misfortune at you
hurls your beating heart downhill
Flirty notes and sense of humour then......
they'll never break your will

© Pernickety Nell  2015


June 06, 2015

☆ Here Boy! ☆

I don't normally upload clips from talent shows.  I don't even continue to watch them after the seriously-deluded contestant stages are over.  But even I had to admit that the ultimate winner of this years Britain's Got Talent, really touched me.   Even had me wiping away a tear at the end.

A clever trainer, a clever dog, telling a funny and cleverly structured, touching story.  No need to watch the whole video as it's all just judges comments at the end, but give it at least 3 minutes and I guarantee you you'll have a lump in your throat by then.  Even I, a lifelong cat lover, had to put my feline-biased praises aside for a bit to make way for this little canine star.



June 02, 2015

♥ Ma, Paw, Aunts and Uncles An Aw' ♥

I was delighted to know and see again, my mother and father's wedding photo taken on Dec 24th , 1947.  When you've a vast family and these few treasured snaps go AWOL, it's a relief in knowing that the picture is indeed, still in existence.  I quite coincidentally saw it through my 11 year old niece's snaps now she's fallen prisoner to Facebook but I'm still not clear on whose physical care the photograph is in.  Our family is spread far and wide, with it's complications but it's pretty apparent that we (and I'm hugely guilty of this myself) are getting on a bit ourselves and need to tie the ropes a bit tighter and one or two of us need to bite our tongues more.  

My mother looked the same most of her life - had beautiful skin and few wrinkles - but I can't believe my dad once looked so young!  I'm uploading it in all it's tattered glory but will edit it as near to it's former glory as I can later on.  If only their marriage (which amazingly lasted till my mother's death in 1988) had kept the beauty of this photograph. 

      My mother, Margaret, father Robert, Best Man Uncle Alex, Bridesmaid Auntie Nancy, and flower girl, Auntie Rita .....picture taken in the Co-operative Hall in Falkirk

May 31, 2015

And Aqua Promised

Apologies for not being around much - I do try to get a poem popped if I can - life is very hard and hectic at the mo - but I will catch up with you all in a few days........promise!
Stood on the enticing bow
overboard but don't know how

A cooling comfort, tingled skin
aqua waves, immortal sin

Hanging on to flotsam junk
my vain pretences now all sunk

No life vest on, a heart in drought
whose lighthouse beam has just gone out

Still falling, ever falling deep,
chasing that elusive sleep

Saturation, breathing pains
saline reminders, drying veins

Crystal clear comes to my aid,
helps me fuel this this lone cascade 

Floating through a bowl of stars,
night time reflections leaving scars

Midnight ocean, sink me far
however lonesome or bizarre

Just let me wake among the sands,
where Neptune ruled the bedded land.
join in the challenge - Magpie Tales

May 29, 2015

No Hang Ups Then?

Thanks for ruddy nothing, you've done it once again
made me pace outside the theatre like a half demented hen!

Your timekeeping is rubbish, always last out of the door -
said you'd be there for three-thirty now it's almost half past four!

I'm squelching and I'm dripping and my nerves no longer cope
mascara's running down my cheeks, my brolly's lost all hope!

My bag and it's belongings catered for our evening out - 
with sweets and crisps and programmes, tins of lemonade and stout.

Well,  I'm effing off without you, back home to my little pad
whose threshold you won't cross again, it's really rather sad!

So I'm taking off my hat and ring, then cozy up inside - 
won't be see with you nor taken for another ride!

But I'll keep the phone plugged to the wall, the back door just ajar -
mute the sound and maybe listen for the engine of your car

The chocolate must be Belgian, washed down with fizzy drinks - 
the bouquet huge and made up of - apologetic pinks!!!

April 27, 2015

Johnny's Journey Hame

The viaduct holds ever near, whispers for the heart to hear,
inhale that vast majestic view, before the town rolls unto you
And resurrects straight from the station, patriotic aspiration,
Mother, in her allied skin, ignites a pride from deep within

Where dire skies could never take, clouded visions for one's sake,
home to clear and died for dales, and fair skinned Annie's up for sale
A hero's mini-welcome home, where stories thrive and bravely roam,
missing all the echo closes, tenements, and I supposes

Young mums kept up all night long, bairns shoogled sound by song,
night shift laddies, eyes red raw, sharing bedrooms, coughs an 'aw.
Thread and needle, make do and mend, becomes a rather valued friend,
candles burned out, flame remote, dark as the Earl of Hell's waistcoat

Children playing up outside, old Jen taken for a ride,
stealing sweeties from her shop, Hell to pay if they get caught
Contented weans, yet God believers, entertained by chalk and peevers,
far too many there to chase, all pacified by His good grace

Hunting by both rod and gun, pots of stew the size of drums,
hame made soup from duggie bones, Irn Bru and tattie scones
Eating grand when Johnny's back, home, and off the beaten track,
when every inch of every glen, must shape his shadow there again

A roll with Annie down the hill, all heather stalks and wanton will,
her kiss like satin on his lips, tingled toes and finger tips
A thistle's thorn could never sting, away the pain that absence brings,
just promises in jeely jars, silver rings, and battle scars

Much later, after Sunday baths, piano songs and hearty laughs
the men smoke like a reeking lumb, till whisky knocks their senses numb
And morning mirrors heave a sigh, reminded of his next goodbye,
all uniforms and worried soul, preparing for his chosen role

Off now young man, one time more, as conflict may knock on our door -
a muckle train takes you away,  as glorious as come-what-may
A Flying Scotsman's younger brother, wrenching firstborn from it's mother
a route from which one can't depart - the train-tracks of a soldier's heart
since this week's prompt hails from my motherland, I went on a nostalgic journey using some Scottish vernacular.  I think most will work out the words for themselves but give me a shout if their are any queries...... 

April 21, 2015

Never Trust A Toilet Mirror!

A trusted friend I had in you
solely hanging in the loo
Lighting up above the sink
framed in bright flamingo pink

Helped as I made up my face
a lipstick kiss I'd soon erase
Little Miss Perfect in reverse
winks and pouts we would rehearse

You saw my tears and shared my shame
agreed, I won't do that again!
Unladylike from pees to vomit
zooming out me like a comet!

Heard my secrets and my farts,
got zit-pops down to a fine art
I'd bounce about in naked pride
and sing most ghastly as I dried

Then came the thought to rearrange,
my rooms in some domestic change
I fancied you out in the hall
t'was not a clever move at all

Looking pale and feeling shitty,
no longer sharing in my pity
Every time I went to tinkle
I never noticed that deep wrinkle!

I've never changed my food of late
yet you indicate I've put on weight!
Beauty should come from within
but I'm worried by that double chin!

Does my dress cling on this tight?
I must have looked an awful sight!
My hair's not doing as it's told
all waves and knots and uncontrolled

My senses ask, is this a farse?
Just look at thee size of my arse!
I should be gorgeous, but can see,
you won't co-operate with me!

You're dull and hard and can't reflect,
a two-faced friend with low respect
Back in the bathroom, so it seems
or find yourself in smithereens! 


April 12, 2015

A Sole And Her Sea

Walking home late from the tracks of my past
I peer at horizons, with souls ever vast

I breath in the sea air, and cry to the night
as front waves appear in the sodium light

As lonely an isle with a lighthouse of love
whose beam is fast fading and yet to shine of

No lovers returning, no aquatic potion
just cold crashing loss between hearts and the ocean

Yet under the water swim thousands of you
temperate actions and hullabaloo

Shifty and scared, brave, taking chances
bullying, battling, swift primal dances

Gathering shoals of different kinds
colours that blend, others that blind

Shaping your world as nature intended
instinctively loving, a partner defended

I could capture you all, my ultimate prize
tossing back those I may come to despise

With all of you fishes held under the sea
can't one come ashore and try capturing me?

April 11, 2015

Dear Adam

Dear Adam,

Next time you want to slice an onion, and you're too lazy to rewash the chopping board, could you not use the back of the phone directory.  It was the smelliest search for a number I've had.  Ever.


April 07, 2015

I Want One That's Not Chocolate!

                              Sorry this one is a bit late - trying to catch up over the Easter holiday.  
                                                      Just a quick effort with little tones of my own Easter childhood!

Every year on  Easter Sunday
shiny shoes and cotton shirts,
All that Sunday Best malarkey
bored to death in that huge church

Hymn books open ready
morbid songs they make you sing
Hold your breath next to old Charlie
or inhale that  musky ming!

In the morning came a visit,
Easter Bunnies clad  in blue?
Just nutters in a onesie,
fooling nobody but you!

Little lamb a-bounding,
with energy galore
Till the day he's on the menu
feed a family of four

Hens-a-constant laying
eggs-on-the-constant boil
Colours, faces, and cool patterns
for us to smash and spoil

Gee - all those shit straw bonnets
piled as much as you damned please
Then a prize for putting up with
hostile birds and angry bees

It's sad to hear the story
crucifixes, rolling stones
All forgotten once the wine flows
with no sin there to atone

When He's born we're given presents,
given chocolate when He dies
Forgiven each hypocrisy
before His very eyes

Such memories to last me,
arms so full of daffoldills
Stolen from a nearby cemetery
looks nice upon your sill

Same time again, then, everyone
school holidays of Yore
From Fridays through to Mondays
bring about that tin foil war

April 01, 2015

♥ PrettyBoy's And Girls Come Out To Play ♥

Really looking forward to my son's engagement party this Friday.  Out of all the PrettyGals below (and quite a few more not in pictures!) at last he's found Thee One.  He's always been a bit of a player outside his band's heartthrob drummer status, but I've fond memories of his Girls of Yore.....(and some not so fond!)  Now my baby's growing up!  Not in any hurry for grand-babies just yet, but I'll buy a ball of wool in just in case.....................







It's nice to know he's at last settling down.  I just hope at the ultimate alter he doesn't do a Ross from Friends and get his women mixed up!