I Interrupt This Magpie To Announce.......

Today, Pretty Boy's last module result arrived. This was the crucial one to secure him his second year at university, sitting this degree with Honours. He passed and starts back in September. I'm so proud. Now he has a degree in Music and Audio Technology to add to his other achievements.

If all goes well for the year ahead, I will potentially have a second kid with letters after their name. For me, this is gobsmacking. Weather permitting (as we're almost into winter here in Scotland) we plan to have another garden celebration soon. And the smile will hopefully be bigger than the one's here, at last year's college graduation diploma celebration......

                           Andrew, Ross and Scott celebrating last year's diplomas

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Who Needs A Mac?

Come out tonight and jump the puddles
Splash some love across the street
Feel the trickles down your collar
With each forecaster's fine deceit

Clouds of anger, keep collecting
Changing white to midnight grey
Lash reserves on cobbles, gratings
So many signs to disobey

Coloured lights pierce through the torrents
Tempting us to go inside
Nab a drink and sit there tingling
Clean the corners of our minds

Clothes cling tight, twist and gather
Shoes they squelch with every stride
Hair is pasted, make up wasted
Worries for a short time slide.

November rain persists to call us
Out into the back street lights
Run with laughter, failed umbrella
Catch the essence of the night

Make wishes as the ripples join up
Waterfalls down window panes
Rain ever cursed from sheltered beings
Whose appeal continues to arcane

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Get To 'F' (17)

I have gotten myself to 'F' a bit earlier this week. My presence over the week-end will be little, if at all, as my darling daughter and her hubby (see sidebars for details) are visiting from London. Time is precious.

In honour of her, I leave a snap of her beloved penguins. Wonder how many cold or icy associated song titles we can come up with to accompanying it. Mull that over with some wine later on methinks............

              Next Friday then.............................
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Riding To Boogie-Woogie

This week's entry was a bit of a struggle for me, I never got that instant direction to where my poems usually take me. However, a few family members seem to think that the anonymous lad in the car resembles my son's friend, Blair. I'm not so sure. What do you think?

Mirror, I like what I see
I'm off to Rigsby Hall
Footloose and excited
Jitterbug's and swinging dolls

Hitch a ride with Faith and Jenny
Like the ruby of their lips
Walk into the venue
With a girl for either hip

Looking round at all the sweethearts
Through the thickening smoke cloud
While the music and the mirror ball
Cast temptation to the crowd

Not war-torn nor depleted
Floor as scuffed as soldiers' hearts
This dance hall's masterful with moves
To ensure fear's kept apart

Dance away, you little devils
Of the brass and of the bone
Deliberate your curfew
We will always hold one's own

Be a sweet little wallflower
Or the jiver of romance
Not even Father's rage will
Kill the music or the dance

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Get To 'F'

On a Friday I enjoy a bit of image fun. Trawling the 'net I look for funny, cute, artsy, clever and the downright bizarre pictures, to share with the blogger community. This week focuses on artsy and fun:

Here's a few remakes of the (al)most famous model in sitting still-land.  Now those, I'd be happy to hang in front of......!

See you next time where we can all meet up and 'Get To F' (Friday)

Colour Me Kindly

Oh, heck, I'm being stripped again
This new lot seem quite deranged!
Why can't they move in quietly
Without the need to change?

They'll size me, analyse me,
Slide a sliver of cement
Pop a lid and grab some brushes
Charge with purposeful intent

What ruddy colour will they choose?
Shall I end a sorry sight ?
Princess pink or football blue?
A silent wall hermaphrodite!

Or will they go the whole hog
And repaper me again?
I'd quite like giant flowers
In that look of misty rain.

Or will they cheapen me with basic?
Anaglypta? Wooden chips?
I demand a roll that bounces back
When you lift your fingertips!!

Yet, for decorative fulfillment
Frames refreshed in all the rooms
I'll inhale, seep up, in every pore
Till I'm high on glossy fumes

Once I'm dry, they'll likely hang me
With the tackiest of stuff
Or trust to me, a huge TV
Till the rawlplugs' have had enough

Gee, I feel so awfully helpless
The 3 piece suite is facing me
I'll be gawped at for the next ,blah, years
So I pray - be kind to me!

Retroland

Bobbie-Jo, run away with me
Take us off into the night
Find a room with Magic Fingers
And a calming amber light

Bobbie-Jo, pack up your swimsuit
And we'll go live by the sea
Ocean sprays against your shoulders
As your shoulders rest on me.

Bobbie-Jo, let's find a preacher
Who'll bless us before shame
Be the husband that your father loathes
When you eradicate his name.

Bobbie-Jo, I'll find a ladder
And within an hour or two
I'll tap your bedroom window
And we'll head for Xanadu.

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Joseph-Bob, what are you doing?
Squashing my hibiscus bush!
Where did that ladder come from....
I expect to hear the truth....!!

Mrs Jones, I climbed the ladder
To alert my Bobbie-Jo
We were thinking of eloping
Now we'll never, ever know

Mr.Jones came to the window
I'd misjudged the actual room
Shoved me back into the night air
Onto your beloved bloom

Mrs Jones was struck, dumbfounded
Father loved his baby girl
But the story had to be told
How BJ came into the world:

I was slung over his shoulder
Down a ladder, in a car
Drove us off into the night
South to West Virginia

Bobbie-Jo, she was born out there
Reached four before we wed
You'll both be tinged with temple grey
Before HE'LL give the go ahead

Joe, buy a sparkly little gem
To place upon her hand
And if her father starts, I'll take him
Back to Retroland

I Proms-ise To Love You Forever.......

                                 Ashley playing to the masses on holiday......!
                                              

Today my daughter and son-in-law celebrate their 7th wedding anniversary.  It will be a day to remember for always. Lunch at the Ivy in London and off to South Kensington with my twin sis to watch the Proms at the Royal Albert Hall. Something probably done a million times before but there's an added bonus.

My twin's son, Ashley, has been chosen to play in the wind section for tonight's performance, starring Nigel Kennedy. His instruments of interest are the baritone horn and trombone. The timing for the double celebration was magical. I'm thrilled for all four of them.

Ashley's greater talent came shining through after landing a place at Chetham's School of Music in Manchester. Unlike his cousin's (PrettyBoy and NorseGod) for one so young he decided to take the classical route instead of the manic minions of rock and pop. And I couldn't be more proud. I have just watched (again) his soloists' video performance of Sång till Lotta and it gets more hauntingly beautiful with each listen. Sadly, I cannot access a link to share it here meantime as you have to be a Facepuke friend of mine to view it...!

The performance is being recorded and broadcast on telly next Saturday (13th Aug). My eyes will be straining to catch a fleeting glimpse or more of this little genius.  His grampa would've been ever so proud and loud about it, too.  Fill up 'em lungs young man and blow away any doubts you ever had. It's in the blood! For now, here's a sneaky snap that 'escaped' from the performance last night. The young blonde guy sat in the back row, resting his trombone is our little genius!

Old Blades Of Glory

Rotating, gyrating, this denature fan
Drawing in, motioning, as hard as he can
Just a glimmer of yesteryear, a whisper away
Blown gently from dry palms and into the day

Seeds of new promise, landing where 'er
Bursting out blooms near an infinite lair
Close by there's a grinding, where once there was ire
Giving strength to the snowstorm and fumes of the fire

Invisible to the eye, but ever so clear
Presence attending, by touch and by ear
Windmills continue, performing their duty
With the dance in the leaves and trees ravaged from beauty

Elements, Heaven sent, scents in the air
Whip up a wonder with everyone there
Grinding blades, renegades, direction unclear
Disregarded mechanically over the years

Blades robbed of oiling, heart festered away
No regard for the function performed in its day
Rusted, adjusted, replaced and then tossed
Never then realising it's really their loss