Today, I am a moaning blogger. For the first time in at least 10 years I have a rotten head cold. Apparently, I sounded like a 'malfunctioning chainsaw' in an effort to breath through the night and if there's one thing I cannot stand (next to needing to vomit!) is a stuffy nose. I prefer my breaths to be alpine-tinged and pure but through the one nostril would have done!
Anyhow, this week is a fairly important week. There are major plans in the making. On Friday my gorgeous daughter and her hubby arrive. Gingernut (the younger son) is headlining with his band No Need For Idols in Glasgow's Barrowland. As yet, his big sister and hubby haven't heard them live, and this will be the first time Kerri and James will be faced with their masses of fans. I leave the floor after enough snapping suffices as the mid-floor, booze ridden lino takes on new dangers and in the mass hysteria there's no telling what could clunk you on the head - most likely a stray tambourine. Roll on Friday........
This Saturday, I am looking forward to a 25th Wedding Anniversary do. My ex-sister-in-law has invited us all to their celebration. I managed to stayed married to her brother (who'll be there with his 3rd wife and family, too!) for 5 years, which was a huge achievement on our part, but we are still all drawn together via my darling daughter. I'll let you work it all out for yourselves for now as I'm due another sneeze. Roll on Saturday........
This Sunday afternoon (before Kerri and James return to London) we are holding a garden-party celebration in honour of PrettyBoy for being awarded H.N.D. (Higher National Diploma) in Music and Sound Production. This has secured him his place in Glasgow Caledonian University. His 'proper' graduation ceremony will not be until September in the Town Hall just before he and his mates start Uni. They will be draped and photographed in the usual gear ect. Anyhow - I did expect to have the garden decorations and posters finished and printed by now but I have just had a good old 'feeling sorry for myself', day today!
One thing that I have decided on is what will be printed and pinned to the window. Now for those who are new to the blog, my oldest son, Ross, (PrettyBoy) is a good lad but extremely vain. Never passes a mirror or window without checking his hair ect. So here's the picture I edited after scrawling hundreds of them to find him in a drink-induced dafty look. Roll on Sunday........
......checking himself in the mirror for the 50th time!
His 'graduation' pic.............that's my clever, funny and mental boy! Roll on September..............!
You know what.....? I think that's my sinuses starting to clear...............
June 22, 2010
June 18, 2010
A Slice Of All Right
Bitsy little Opinel, my implement of faith
you accompany me around the house, it's every single place.
Bitsy little Opinel, in your home of solid wood.
You've helped me scrape off fishy scales when I'm preparing food.
Bitsy little Opinel, you helped me turn a screw -
when a driver wasn't handy, I relied on little you!
Bitsy little Opinel, you cut that carpet fine.....
which tucked along the skirting edge in adequate design.
Bitsy little opinel, you're ready at the hilt -
you nip off garden buds and things that either stick or wilt.
Bitsy little Opinel, your blade is ready fast.
You cut the twine with steady ease - man's strength you did surpass!
Bitsy little Opinel, what a nifty blade you've got.
You sliced the bag, I sowed the seeds - in terracotta pots!
Bitsy little Opinel, what about those leather shoes?
You quickly pierced a new hole, now the straps no longer loose!
Bitsy Little Opinel, oh how you master slits -
and sharpen wood and leave behind cute curly shaven bits!
Bitsy Little Opinel- my saviour of the view -
who doth need a handyman when I've got little you?
Bitsy little Opinel - in your wooden home of beech
I'll treasure you forever more...Dieu vous bénisse.
Bitsy little Opinel - I could big you up all day -
but blades have to recuperate once grime is wiped away.
Oh, Bitsy little Opinel - whom I love through and through......
there'll never be an Opinel of ever losing you!
Written from this week's prompt at Willows......magpietales.blogspot.com
June 13, 2010
Air Etchings.
The field is such a fine place
for the easel board and lead.
Miles and miles of nothingness,
a clear and silent head.
Sharpening the pencils
with a sure and steady hand.
Then breath in inspiration,
casting thoughts out to the land.
A wispy stroke, a beaded brow,
just where will this line end?
Along the shaded darker route,
with his linear of friends?
A blended, smudgy vision
is now starting to evolve.
As graphite takes you over
Reality dissolved.
The lineweight finds its ideal shade
The pulp accepting tones
In simple sweeps the graphite keeps
Creations as His own.
Miles and miles of nothingness
That neither talks nor lies.
It is amazing what appears
when not before the eyes.
Another great prompt from Willow at:
http://magpietales.blogspot.com/
June 08, 2010
Stoney Grace
Here's my effort of Magpie 17: It's a bit late but I had it on draft to complete.
Stoney Grace.
Since I was a budding child, you've fascinated me
Ever staring, weather bearing, what will be, will be.
You were hidden in our garden, overgrown with manic sheaves
Concrete waves that framed your face peeked through the ivy leaves.
We picked you up and there you were, a bust in concrete grey
Dusted down and turned around our little girl of clay.
Moved you around the garden, to give you visions new
And shelter when the sky is fierce, all dark and moody blue.
And so our strange new relic, now our guardian of ground
Kept a steady eye on things, no sight and not a sound.
I asked you as I cleaned you if you're shouting or in shock
But the secret soul expression stays solidified in rock.
I've even tried to name you but a title never fits
You'll always be our mystery with grainy little bits
You're the maiden of our garden, in which ever way you choose
In taciturn your endless stare surrounds a tearful druse.
Then one night, so so long ago still sticks with me within
You creeped me out with your silent shout, obscurity wherein:
By the window opened wide, moonlight on sullen grey,
I heard a lull in lilac tones, a singular soiree.
It never did repeat itself, where e'er you graced the ground,
May long you live in silent mode and evermore confound.
http://magpietales.blogspot.com/
Stoney Grace.
Since I was a budding child, you've fascinated me
Ever staring, weather bearing, what will be, will be.
You were hidden in our garden, overgrown with manic sheaves
Concrete waves that framed your face peeked through the ivy leaves.
We picked you up and there you were, a bust in concrete grey
Dusted down and turned around our little girl of clay.
Moved you around the garden, to give you visions new
And shelter when the sky is fierce, all dark and moody blue.
And so our strange new relic, now our guardian of ground
Kept a steady eye on things, no sight and not a sound.
I asked you as I cleaned you if you're shouting or in shock
But the secret soul expression stays solidified in rock.
I've even tried to name you but a title never fits
You'll always be our mystery with grainy little bits
You're the maiden of our garden, in which ever way you choose
In taciturn your endless stare surrounds a tearful druse.
Then one night, so so long ago still sticks with me within
You creeped me out with your silent shout, obscurity wherein:
By the window opened wide, moonlight on sullen grey,
I heard a lull in lilac tones, a singular soiree.
It never did repeat itself, where e'er you graced the ground,
May long you live in silent mode and evermore confound.
http://magpietales.blogspot.com/
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