Until Then

Dusk scents, the lure of a walk through the streets
inviting the eye to explore
Rooms lighting gently as darkness defeats
taking over in gradual rapport


Shades still not drawn, skylines vaguely protest
here comes nighttime in all her attire
Forcing bulbs in all colours to coalesced
besides flicks of the tiniest fire


Inside buildings and houses and solitude hides
routines and rituals run
Sending dusk off with mundane acts sweetly disguised
till the call from the lure of the sun

Eurovision S'wrong Contest

It's a ridiculous thing to admit - but my family are keen viewers of the Eurovision Song Contest.  Since I was but a nipper, we all gathered around the dusty 24 incher, paper, pencil, pads and peanuts (that were chucked at the telly when things got heated!)  close by.  We usually rooted for the UK until we realised that for the best part most of the songs were shit.

  However, coming from a family of music lovers, although my dad hated but put up with it it in the terms of  "a load of bastard nonesense"  ( as nothing or no-one ever compared to the rat-pack but he was often humming along to the 'crap' we hit him from the stereo with) we still were prepared to give the lot a fair hearing. That's what I often find with music these days, not enough people are willing to try anyone elses recommendations.  A few minutes can either rape your ears or run a shiver down the musical spine you thought you never had. I'm big enough and open enough for both.

Anyhow - back on the subject.  It's a big thing in my household. The kids stay in to take part in the annual offerings.  Among ourselves we take bets and at the bookies if there's time.  All this is washed down with loads of lager and finger foods and the best of luck to who ruddy ever. 

And my 'good luck, mucker' goes to Ireland's Jedward this year.  Yes, those obnoxious, hated twins with dire dress sense and hair and pumping perpetual grins. But they've got energy, spunk and no shame whatsoever.  Look at what the UK has to offer this year,   Jinglebert Humped-and-dumped  - and he's on first!  Not that that matters anymore as it's all dogged by political symbolism and vote rigging. It should be called Eurovision Vote-For-Your-Neighbouring-Country Contest. But that won't spoil it for me.

This version My Lovely Horse by the late great Father Ted Crilly and Father Dougal McGuire would certainly get  Irelande Deuxe Pointe  from me every time. With lyrics that include:


♫ running around, with a man on your back, like a train in the night, like a train the "hold on Dougal,  I can get this"........night  ♫   

how could one not?


  
******************************************************************** 
 

Just A Performance

Society cries for the antics of some
Entertained by the acts from the street
Gathering numbers that hee-haw and hum
Guffaws from the glitter effete.

A dangerous motion, a rich man's delict
Acrobats shout as they sling
Illusionist twisting your minds with his tricks
We freaks from outside of the ring

Bodies and timing, impeccable throws
Sweat never making appearance
Blindfolded, anchoraged beasts to oppose
Till the clown makes the final appearance

A performance from one who can't utter a word
Master of sadness and sin
Who can't colour his day from the things that he's heard
Camaraderie smile painted in


The star of the show, the pedestal prince
Funny,  foreboding to some
The ass of the class and in life ever since
Wearing endless mascara that runs

****************************************************************** 
This is probably one of many uploaded to this post but with so many covers out there I'll stick to an audio of the original. One of my all time favourite songs. The words are just precious:  SEND IN THE CLOWNS:

*****************************************************************************************************

Just To Verify......

 A few weeks ago, I stopped asking for a verification character copy on any comments I received.  It does save you time and a lot of squinting as the new black and white double-word replacement is a pain in the arse!  But I just had to pay some sort of homage to the previous version.

The old verification codes used to entertain me to the point of taking a text snap of  the word for some reason or other.  (Apologies for the HUGE spacing in this post, it's certainly not the way I formatted it. I'll try to neaten it soon). Here's just a few of the old V's examples that I've loved and will miss.......:


Some sounded cute:

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************
Some suited fishermen but frightened dogs:

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Some were insulting to old people and the young:

 



















**************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Some were indecent:

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************
There was plenty Scottish vernacular:

What a Scotsman might say to someone pathetic:  "Sad you are!"

What Scotsmen turn into after a heavy bevvy session, too many beers. Idiots. Asses.















Something a Scotsman promises. Give you his word  "swers" it will 'no happen again!'

Something a Scotsman, after having one too many, has extreme difficulty in achieving. Unable to function sexually.












What a Scotsman is in danger of after topping up his 15 pints with a kebab or haggis supper (with broon sauce).  The act of vomiting. Performing a  " witie. "







A Scottish child that has turned from cherub to ASBO material overnight. Demon child. Close fodder.














*********************************************************************************************************************************************************
Some, a bit spooky:

This verification popped up at the end of a post about - a zoo!

And this one after Rosemarie and I agreed that this priest was a bit hunky.  Just imagine if that 'n' rounded it off instead of the la!
*******************************************************************************************************************************************************
Then there was the ones you so longed to alter yourself!

                



 (Now that's just taking the iss)
**********************************************************************************************************************************
Some a tad controversial:  (some were worse!)

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************  My favourites are the ones that popped up the nights I drank the odd glass of wine and played music online between my Facebook and Blogger friends.
  What could have been more fitting than these little diamonds:

  *******************************************************************************************************************************************************
So in pure honour of the old verification function, I'm seeing you off to the beat of the (Eastenders style):

  ********************************************************************************************************************************************************

♫ The Joker Is Smiling ♫

The filming of my son's band Hotel India 's new video is complete and this is its first showing.  Yes, I have been given permission to plug it on Blogger for a few  weeks on end days before it is on wider public release.

Filmed in the grounds of a derelict Scottish castle (we've tons of the buggers up here, we have) it has an obsessive stalker theme and plenty of cleverly done shadow play. So, here - from the band that every other band f*****g hates - I give you Black Eyes :



***********************************************

Freshly Pipped

A family gathering, a Sunday debate
A spread of keen citruses, bright and ornate

Your hunger awaiting the green light from dad
As he seasons and juices his fresh catch of scad

Sitting adjacent, parents and sons
In happy approach, each canonical nones

Grace and a table indicative of
Pride from a father, a labour of love

Who mentions quite playfully,  points with a knife
How the fruits of their loins will be needed in life

To keep the seeds handy, to burst into colour
Peeling the pith, squeezing juice from another

They'll each have a table, and gathering glow
And a orchard of offsprings, a life to bestow
*********************************

To (try and) Kill A Mocking Bird and Other Mucky Stuff!

Today we took a walk to the garden centre which is around 2 miles away.  With the weather fine and dry,  McScrooge and I decided not to wear jackets as there was some warmth in the sun. Half-way there a biting wind picked up and my hair did a splendid take of some tumbleweed.  I came home with purple heathers, McS came home with purple hands.  Later on  (and in body-warmers this time) we ventured back out to give our back garden fence a creosote (God I love the smell!) only to find that the spray-snow message on the fence that GingerJesus drunkenly dedicated to the neighbours years ago, resurfaced and took on some weird luminosity. It is May 2nd and we're now wishing our neighbours a  'Merry Chrimbo from Adam' .

I suppose the most enjoyable part of my garden stint was watching this magpie absolutely taking the piss out of our cat, Boaby. Been doing it for weeks now, torments poor sour-puss something rotten, lands so ruddy close but seems to have impeccable timing for safety mode.  It once nipped the tip of Boaby's tail and it has been known to swoop also.  It is one very brave, feathered jester. It's fabulous entertainment actually and I'm now keeping my camera on handy standby for future pics or recording.

The day ended on a fairly cheery note for me.  A meddlesome neighbour, Liz, on passing by, told us of another neighbour who is dog-poop shy and NEVER picks up after her gorgeous German Shepherd.  She awoke this morning to a pile of dog poop (in bags) on her doorstep besides a pooper-scooper, from an anonymous source.  We think it's been our oldest street resident Jean, as she's about as passionate and mental as I am about the problem in our little public park . The carpets I've had to scrub in my time!  But it's a kiddie's play area too and there are dog bins provided.  Doubt if it'll change things though. Perhaps I could have a quiet word in that magpie's ear? Hmm?

**************************************************