October 22, 2014


Just for the record - I haven't effed off completely. We've had quite a time of it recently but will post more detail at a later date as I'm pressed for time right now. All I can say meantime is that I'm lucky mt hubby's still here among us. I'll resume normal service soon. I'm missing Magpie Tales and my bunch of regulars (especially Jon, Geo, Anne, Keith, Gwen, Doria, Richard, Helen) and all my Magpie Tale regular authors. I do aplogise if I'd missed anybody out! Regular Lena services will be up and running again soon....... Helena...XxX

July 22, 2014

The Fruit Loop

Forgive my passing footsteps and not stepping in your store
Despite your displayed fruit and veg being a brilliant lure

You see, my hubby grows his own, despite those grubby nails!
His hard work goes to highest lengths and nature then prevails

He grows fantastic produce, due to mighty love and care
Spends more time out in other beds than our one up the stair!

From apples, pears and strawberries, broccoli and beans
He's a man of many textures, sizes, smells and shades of green

So forgive my meantime absence, and now *cough* please beg my pardon
For I have an  effing genius who rules the entire garden

How tropical he makes the taste, a greenhouse full of mixture
Around the world in 90 days, one hot and glassy fixture

Though summer never lasts that long, right to the end he'll toil
To the last exhausted fruit that's saying goodbye to the soil

Until winter takes a hold again, I'll have to pass you by
I'm getting portions of my 5-a-day, from my green-fingered guy!


July 21, 2014

Dear Adam

Dear Adam........

Next time you forget your key and need to climb through the bathroom window, could you please close it firmly again instead of wide enough to let the cat in.  It's awful coming home to shredded toilet roll.  Especially if you are a lady......


July 17, 2014

Now He Nose!

Earlier on today we needed to clear a space in the attic to access repairs on the roof.   It is a place that we visit rarely, usually only to get the Christmas tree down.  Amidst a huge lot of McScrooge's fishing junk equipment was an old photograph.  This was the first time I had ever saw it but I knew right away it was my grandmother and grandfather.  She looked the spit of my oldest son, Ross/PrettyBoy.   He has the same facial features - especially the button nose.

I knew of the photo's existence but really have no idea how it ended up in my attic but I know my siblings and I usually share out such keepsakes so we all have bits to our past.  Of course, I was bequeathed the painting of my Grandmother as a girl, after my father's death, and it hangs in the middle floor of the house.  She has looked down upon us for 10 years now and will do so until my own grandchildren come along.   It's doubtful any future granddaughters will be named after her - my name was shortened a letter to Helen as it was more in touch with the 60's apparently!  I reverted back to origins of my name once I was interested in blogging. I'm sure she'd be happy about this now! 

There, unfortunately, is a bit of damage to the picture but given the amount of even more junk goods in my attic it escaped total destruction being fragile.  Sadly, I never did inherit her button nose and clear blue eyes but took after my Grandfather more.  Now, at last, PrettyBoy may believe me that  (despite the photograph being black and white)  those baby blue eyes actually came from somewhere down the family line and he wasn't vainly solely blessed with them to complete his 'package'.


Memories of my Grandparents are very clouded.  I was five when they died, within months of each other.  But from what I heard they were a very happy couple , musically talented, with some of the best genes a family has ever worn!


July 13, 2014

Threadbare Harlot

Covered it in carpet, polished it with paint
leads right to the very door where naughty boys acquaint
Feet of different fittings, climbing up the stairs
And yet… He remains in bed Staring at the ceiling She cries softly on the couch Feeling broken, used Just a receptacle for his need While she remains empty She fingers her phone Thinking of the invitation there Very casual A shared cup of coffee Nothing more, and yet She reads the real invitation In the depth of his eyes When he looks at her She wipes her tears as she thinks of fidelity and promises… He walks into the living room Suddenly shy She tries to cover her body With her red see through lingerie Her black hair covering her mascara streaked eyes He kneels down in front of her Pushing away her hair His eyes searching hers And holding t - See more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/prostitution#sthash.sUgRRSgj.dpuf
a fine day for hypocricy that is or isn't theirs

A steady flow of regulars, some more fresh of face
others terrified to even rid of her her lace
Descending down the carpet, guilt and shame and God forbid -
pray mum, the wife or clergyman won't find out what you did!

Neon lights they sizzle from the sign above her room
her nightly ritual smelling of cigars and French perfume
A quiet word of warning for the older gentlemen - 
to watch the threadbare carpet as they head back down again

A rowdy few, a roughland gang, can terrify and scare -
she'd scream out loudly for the cops, but they're already there!
Ridicule and nastiness, occasional bad blood -
sometimes the carpet caught their toes to land them with a thud!

A handsome little virgin, trying hard to keep his quest
spent the entire twenty minutes simply laying on her breast
Despite his intact youthful bits and less than manly dare
his feet would never touch a step for walking on pure air!

A copy of The Harlots House lay on her bedside table
Grace became her name and friend as far as it was able
Saw her through the game of mostly staring at the ceiling
a story that walked up the stairs and down with it's own meaning


Farewell soon to this, her means, with earnings vast and mighty
a little house all paid for, from this back street Aphrodite
Carpet colours, piles so thick and patterns to boot
a perfect fit throughout the house, for just her  little foot!


he looks up at the ceiling and wonders How life has changed him - See more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/prostitution#sthash.sUgRRSgj.dpuhard to believe this carpet is just a decade old,  secrets to let free........havana on it's knee

July 12, 2014

One Girl - Two Cups Of Flour

                  Why it's not a good idea to ask Kerri for a hand in the kitchen!

My darling daughter is always reaching out to those less fortunate.  She's made and donated food and drinks for the homeless and certain other charities - especially at Christmas.  Thankfully, this lot was for a ladies night in at her house!  I'm hiding the scales before her next visit!



July 10, 2014

Turkey Necked Tourists

I buy your general run-of-the-mill women's magazines a lot if there is footy on the telly  (and there has been loads of that recently).   I have made a bit of money over the years from having photo's and poems etc, published but I like to do puzzles as the boys roar abuse at the box.  Mind you, the puzzles aren't all that challenging (apart from Sudoku which I am utter shite at!) but it passes the time in a lazy-arsed way. Occasionally, I do online entries but never won yet.

  Often in these magazines they repeat stories of the same nature.  The cases of the Turkish toyboys and the stupid, desparate older women who are drawn in by these greasy slime-balls take the whole biscuit barrel. The story that shocked me more than others was the one of Mary and Vitol.  Vitol was 26 and Mary was 72.  She was targeted and groomed wonderfully by this man.  He was a handsome Turk whose silver-tongue won this silver-haired old numpty over.  In less than two years he managed to marry her.  Naturally, he didn't get granted a British visa - never even set foot on British soil - and instead settled for plan B.  Conning her into selling her house, she posted him the vast majority of the proceeds from it so he could  "make a love-nest''  back home in Turkey for them.  Thinking everything fine, she took a flight to Ankara to surprise him and he flipped out saying he hadn't wanted her to come until 'their' house was ready.  After two years of toing and froing the lira finally dropped.

So here was a case where a 26 year old felt  'love at first sight'  with a crinkly face-and-arsed 72 year old.   All it took was menial gifts, walks in the moonlight, (coz daylight was too embarrassing) texting and waterworks, to suck the life and means out of an old dear.  She didn't listen to the words of warning her offspring gave her when it came to selling the house and valuables.  Of course, being in love meant sex on tap and the young foreign man had to shag this powdery old puddock to seal an aura of truth between them.  Apparently, he loved her saggy bits, rash under her tits , baggy breeks, removable teeth, thinning hair, and failing eye-sight (every 26 year old man's dream girl!)  But just how blind was she?

In the wedding photo she wore her hair in pigtails in a desperate attempt to look younger.  The wedding officials' smirks in the pictures with them read  'yet another mug'.  You hear of older 'cougars' having a bit of fun with a toyboy, if fun is where it starts and ends. But it is also a shame that some grandchild could be missing out on some future education and financial security.  It's just a bigger shame that many stupid old slappers are being taken for a visa. What they really need is a mirror and a reality check!

July 06, 2014


They think of him as a little mad                           
consistency not a thing to be had
Feels not like red blood that flows in his veins
just a liquid concerto to capture his gains

An artful John Doe with eccentric guile
a clouded up basis for that ruthless smile
Moving around without wing, without wheel
some pertaining to him as a quick, gracious steel

Staring across the same crowded-out room
time for his business and bite to resume
Cements himself firm in the dimly lit corner
a bonafide nightly, morality mourner

Kisses the girls, the boys even better
posting himself like a brutal chain letter
Soon to engulf in narcotics and sweat,
a foul morning headache's as good as it gets

Mother and nature in pair didn't care
Father's hand, like his pride, simply never was there
Blessed this only child's rife ballyhoo
atonement for birth, but just who's fooling who?


July 03, 2014

Tsss. Thwiff. Kaboom. Sheeeee.......

Just in case any of my American friends and bloglisters pop by, this little gal would like to say:


I've some fireworks left over from Hogmanay,  so I'll set them off when it gets dark.  That should annoy the neighbours and confuse the neighbourhood cats.  I guess I could force down a glass or two of wine as well!


June 30, 2014

Lost Lady Luck

                             Lady Luck apologies
                            for her lack of showing face
                            Abandonment, no diamond rises
                            club or heart a darned disgrace

                            Lady Luck lets out no whisper
                            leaving you a suit no less
                            Notes like stakes, a whole lot crisper -
                            poker face to acquiesce

                            Lady Luck sits at your table
                            giving you the widest berth
                            Returning to you when she's able - 
                            winning streaks for all she's worth.

                            Lady Luck, now that's she's spoken
                            likes this table set for one
                            Absence is her strongest token -
                            Queen of Hearts orbits the sun.

                            Lady sits while Luck is dealing
                            Patience rules the gambled soul
                            Matters not what you're concealing -
                            just one victor to extol



June 28, 2014

Yet Another Vine Day At The Surgery

More antics at my daughter's dental surgery.......click top left for sound

          ☼  A Vine Start To The Week  ☼

                        '' So, I've just spilt water on myself in the shape of a penis! ''


June 25, 2014

The Final Wrap

On our weekly walk, McScrooge and I were fascinated in passing our route by the high school, to hear a piper playing and a party marquee erected with a huge sound system playing music.  We found out that for the first time it was to mark the end of a successful school year and the piper played in honour of a teacher's retirement.  Quite a decent way to wrap things up.

It also jogged my memory of PrettyBoy's last day ever of his  school days before uni.  Back then, the kids had their own idea of what last day of school should be about.  Now, we knew of his intention of dressing like an eedjit (hence the photo) but of the other stuff one of his mates let slip a week or two later.  So he and a group of his close mates had a series of pranks made up and thus went on:

*** They ran into the library with one of those 'horn in a can' things that you hear at football matches - and almost gave Mrs Jennings the clerk a coronary.

They tied adjacent classroom door handles together and banged on the doors simultaneously.

Jars of little fishes (baggy minnows) from a nearby pond were tipped into the staff room toilet sinks.

A huge dick was sprayed in cream or foam (he couldn't remember) on the head's office door.

The janitor's shed was ringed by school ties and his mop and bucket had loads of poster paint squirted into it.

And lastly (all that they were admitting to anyhow) bog roll was looted from the toilets and decorated over the school trees ***

I can see why Ross never confessed to any of this too soon.  But I can't help smiling when I think of the poor teacher who went to wash her/his hands after a piddle.

June 22, 2014


The sky with its clouds, talk to her clear and loud
in passing on this gentle morn
Lost in the heat, roses smelling so sweet
intertwining the scent of grass shorn

The air clean and pure, skin soft and allure
lulling those senses to sleep
Nothing to do, gentle breeze pushing through
in a hush that is all hers to keep

Now rubbing her eyes, as a warm nature sighs
its breath raising hair on her skin
Extending it's grace to another fine other place
where a heart and a soul beat within

A small fountain runs, as she sins in the sun
with the visions within her mind's eye
Him returning to earth, in a instant rebirth
in the guise of a lone dragonfly

(who makes a personal appearance in the pic!)


June 17, 2014

Wot's Up....!?

Cor - I really haven't been around these blogs for a wee while so here's a catchup of the past few weeks:

Malta is such a beautiful country. The 5 star Intercontinental Hotel would be holiday enough for me.  The top floor garden is simply divine and has ducks, koi carp and turtles homing in and amongst the gorgeous waterfall area.  What a sight from your bedroom balcony!   Managing to book the VIP part of the hotel (through friends) this made for a fantastic first-time-abroad-for-Adam experience!  Malta has changed so much and is a country that I would visit again but not in these summer months.   And there my Scottish homesick roots kick in!  What else?.......oh, yes.......


I'm getting increasingly fond of my son's little Jackahuahua and just finished doggy-sitting a couple of days ago.   Peepers was just the thing needed as an excuse to leave the house while all this live sport is going on. World Cup football, golf and ruddy motor racing - not to mention Wimbledon in a week's time.   Must be punishment for something, then.  But boy am I missing that ankle-biting, non-sleeping, fight-picking, over-crapping maniac of a mutt!

I managed to gather some rather nice wildflowers and weeds on our walk and came up with this rather drab bowing coffee jar display! I don't think I'll be picking many more!


That's the surgery over now, too!   Got home early last week and now simply have to wait on the biopsy results. The kinks and twists were successfully straightened and rid off of adhesions - one of the causes for the pain having returned so violently.  I won't be rid of pain completely but may manage it better.

The worst part of the whole operation was the pre-theatre cleansing of the bowel where I had to fast for 2 days while drinking 2 litres of the vilest solution I've ever had to force down.  Think Lemsip with Ouzo and a salty bitterness drawing your top lip back with each mouthful and you're a fraction there - despite looking every fluid ounce the cocktail.   Once back home I was effing starving and there was very little time in between discharge and a tray full of food.   The surgery was a bit of a worry for me as there is always the risk, no matter how small, of ending up with a colostomy bag.   Had that occurred I vowed to jazz the thing up with stick-on gems while perhaps smelling like a farmers boot. 

 I was also devastated at the death of my favourite comic last Monday. Comedy genius Rik Mayall, at a young 56.   Famous for The Young Ones, Bottom and Alan B'stard, he and his comedy partner Ade Edmondson (who wrote, starred and produced the above shows with Rik) changed the face of comedy with their alternative anarchic and zany characters starting back in the 80's.  This very household uses quotes from Rik and Ade's material, and have done for 20 years and will continue to do.  Very few celebs bring me to tears at their passing, well,  this is the first since Bambi's mum.  
It seems so unfair as he was a devoted father, husband and mega- friendly and generous to boot.  It shocked the world, really, and I was touched to see that within a few hours of the news there was Youtube tribute videos from fans as far away as America.  Some may remember him better as imaginary friend in the film Drop Dead Fred.  He'll be sorely missed. Such a cruel waste and it was this quote from his best friend and comedy partner that got me bubbling.  So, so fitting. I'll round things off now with a short video of when Drop Dead Fred and dog poo mix:


ps.......Giving my poetry, meme and other fun groups a miss this week.  I need to know what you guys have been up to first, and I'll be back writing from Sunday.