On Sunday, I'll be traveling down to London on the overnight coach. Now all the biopsies are over with, I'm off to spend much needed time and cuggles with my gorgeous, kindhearted, baby girl. My oldest son, PrettyBoy, is accompanying me this time, but he'll return home a few days before I will. My daughter, Kerri, booked us the tickets for the journey (with National Express) and it was a simple case of printing them off via email. On my son's ticket she referred to him as * 'Dr. R. Kerry' and on mine 'Rev. H. Kerry'.* I can't wait to see the driver's face when he's presented with them! Add this teensy kinda thing as a starter for 10 and you got yourself some trouble-making, wine-nutted, shameless females, all on their own brand of HRT let loose on the streets of London! Gercha! Thankfully, for PrettyBoy, Kerri's hubby James is off work, too! I will also be spending time with my twin sis who resides in Buckinghamshire also.
My baba wants to take us to Windsor. Of all the many visits down south, we've planned but never made it there. All that Beefeater and raven's stuff fascinates me. My biggest wish is to spend some time in Camden again. I love the gritty music and clothes shops, and the wheens of red buses and weird-savvy people that tread the street - oh, and to have my camera on the proper setting to recapture Banksy's signature on the Thames' tunnel, instead of the crap I botched up last year!
Of course, I am not going back without a purchase from the most famous department store there is! Might need a miracle to afford what I'd really like, but since my newfound vocation in life, I simply pray I'll be able to fit it in:
† Our Father, who art in Heaven - Harrods be thy name †
********************************
* in case there is a bit confusion title-wise, my daughter's Christian name is the same as my 2nd time round married name!
It's amazing what went up that lum*,
that long and narrow flue
Aglow with spitting cloud and sparks -
those secrets I told you
A hearth of warmth and visions,
we catch the flickers' dance
From those scrunched, poetic papers,
leading us into romance.
Burning wood and all that rubbish,
that gave out the worst of smells
Smelt to us of rose and cinnamon
as we downed some sweet Moselle
How those flames induced our feelings,
tears that dripped as profiles glowed
What had happened to the promises
those flickers could decode?
Then you started throwing papers,
little pictures on the embers
Curling inwards from the edges,
cinders left as it remembers
Will you let her sit on my rug
as you comb her shampooed hair?
Gaze into the pit of memories
with deep illgotten flare
I'll never need a fireside
to remind me I'm alone
No need to burn to go through Hell
when you're in a smokeless zone.
*The Scottish vernacular of 'chimney'.
********************************
It's a good feeling when.........you've duped your hubby into thinking that you changed that light bulb you've been nagging him to replace for yonks, all 'dangerously' by your 5ft 2in little self, whereas you really got your lad to do it on an unexpected 20 minute visit home during his lunch hour!
********************************************
Relying on the tips of my padded pink fingers helping anything (especially botanical) to grow is usually a no-no. It's not for the want of careful planning, construction and attention either, but my short-yet-successful list of things I do manage to grow fairly trouble-free include foetuses, leg hair, sea monkeys and impatience. So hopefully you understand my utter joy at these pictures:
The Cheaper Half bet me £10 back in May that I'd fail in growing some cherry tomatoes (from seed) before the end of summer. In all, I managed to grow 8 of the little buggers, half of which will meet their
demise tonight between two slices of hot buttered toast. Sadly, however, TCH wrestled the phone off me as I was trying to get the local press involved.........¡
********************************
Every day or so, they say
the waiter's by the sea
Thickest fog, unsubtle smog
his basic rivalry
And there he stands, this proffered man
throwing curses from the edge
Still he fights as docks ignite
those promises they pledged
In true abyss he'll always miss
the stories that they'd sing
Till the boy returns the seas shall burn
it's lost linguistic string
No mighty bridge with climbing ridge
can stop a body's fall
What push or shove, indicative of?
He may never know at all.
********************************
My breast cancer investigation is complete. Earlier on today I traveled to Glasgow for an excisional biopsy. It was the lengthiest and nippiest one of the previous four but I was lucky in such that the needed sample came out beautifully first time. I'm feeling really sore now and have been warned that I'll probably be swollen and bruised for a bit, which doesn't really bother me as I'm a regular Humpty Dumpty anyhow!
All I have to do now is wait on the results to see if the suspicious mass is cancer and what, if any, treatment will entail. But hey-hoe! I'm off soon to visit my daughter in London to spend some girlie and sightseeing time. If bad news does wing it's way to me then she's the one I'd be crying out for. Her strength floors me at times.
The guys have been really supportive and let me flibbertigibbet on and on through the tetchy times. I really don't think they believe me as to how uncomfortably squished you need to be for mammograms ect. Maybe a screening of something similar for them would get you that cup of tea with extra milk now!
********************************
Decidedly wary, unusually calm
Who opened the package that's me?
Sought by abusers and everyday hurt
Whose secrets dilute in the sea
Can you fathom the coldness, the annual crawl
Make a vow to a pearl so crisp
Washed up on a shore complex with aspersions
To cast away doubt in the mist
Still clutching at whispers, an idyllic like shell
Nereus prophecies turned then they fled
Tear the wrapping and bathe me in promises sweet
Then take me and denial to bed
******************************
Was a bit of grump today as Scotland hit 81°, and I'm more of an 'innings' than 'outings' gal in the summer, but the sun (and a few beers) seduced my hubby enough for him to take on the task of cutting the back hedge, giving me a bit of peace and Judge Judy time. Yes, Judy is a guilty pleasure of mine, and I haven't missed an episode in 15 years! The woman's flawless and her patter is short, sweet and nippy in all the right places. So that's that one outed........☺
By late afternoon, I agreed to venture out for a food shop and to pay our council tax and ended uppercutting myself on the chin at the counter of the tax office, as my elbow slid due to the thick layer of sunblock I applied. As my face is 'menopausal-red' most of the year, the assistant's giggles wouldn't have made my blushes any deeper!
And the bank was a nightmare too! This kid from Hell circled around the queue time and time again, singing in-audibly what could very well pass as a chant, while mummykins entertained herself by listening to her iPod. To make matters worse, the bank's air conditioning was down, so to tolerate slow service with this devilkin wannabe before my big-shop-with-red-face, was difficult. I had to restrain myself from tripping him up on his 55th lap! The only thing that kept me going was the thought of my feet (they go really hot in the summer regardless of what kind of shoe I wear!) sliding into the freezer a cool water bowl for 10 mins on my return........
Back home sat I now, feet in bowl of perfumed water in front of the TV. Not having the greatest of memory......what was I saying again.....oh, yeah....I wrongly punched in the numbers on the control and ended up with the God TV channel, which so happened to be airing an "Understanding Male Homosexuality Conference" whose understanding in context seemed to mean 'judging harshly'. Shouting my protests under a deeply frowned brow, I had given myself a worse headache than the acolyte did and pruned feet in a neat shade of bluish-purple to boot. It didn't help either, when the powder I'd used to help thoroughly dry my tootsies, turned my kitchen lino into a skating rink.
I was given a little reward, helping to make up for my day's slips, bips and gips though. GingerJesus emailed me from Edinburgh with some fabulous snaps. His band No Need For Idols have been invited to take part in the annual Edinburgh Fringe Festival
celebrations for a few days, performing cover songs from 60's - present day material. As exciting as it is, he says he's spotted and conversed with quite a few celebrities - particularly comedians - but it's this snap of him with the world's most pierced woman, Elaine Davidson that he's absolutely raving about!! Bet she's easy to buy for each birthday........! See ya's soon!
******************************************************
Not had much time this week to 'pie but I've managed a quick nonsense entry. Will catch yours tomorrow!
Gladys started changing
into frills and smelling sweet
When Old Ally at short notice
said he'd take her out to eat!
To the new Grande GreeDee Mansion,
with it's first class restuarant
Where all gentleman's companions
give a fox fur fancy flaunt
Dining in a cosy corner
on a splendid velvet chair
He sipped his malted whiskey -
she felt rather debonair
The meal was just delicious
culinary do-delight
If only apple-strudel
lasted long into the night!
The piano gently tinkled
something pleasant, a la mode
Tobacco clouds did thicken
and the French wine freely flowed
Chatter slackened, food digested,
time to bid a fond goodnight
Until stark realization
made his eyes pop out with fright
He changed his mind and wore a jacket -
not as chilly as he thought
Left his wallet in the pocket
of the coat that he forgot?!
He tried his best to reason
even Gladys tried a plea
But the boss of posho-noshings
insisted on an exchange fee
Well, old Ally was left fuming
- lo, they wouldn't take his word!
That he'd call back in tomorrow
- pay the bill that he incurred
He was marched into the kitchen
told to stand before a sink
Forced to wash the finest china -
and dareth not to cause a chink!
The soapy-debt now over,
he sighed a sigh resound
While tucking in his baggy shirt
his wallet tumbled to the ground!
********************************
On Sunday, I'll be traveling down to London on the overnight coach. Now all the biopsies are over with, I'm off to spend much needed time and cuggles with my gorgeous, kindhearted, baby girl. My oldest son, PrettyBoy, is accompanying me this time, but he'll return home a few days before I will. My daughter, Kerri, booked us the tickets for the journey (with National Express) and it was a simple case of printing them off via email. On my son's ticket she referred to him as * 'Dr. R. Kerry' and on mine 'Rev. H. Kerry'.* I can't wait to see the driver's face when he's presented with them! Add this teensy kinda thing as a starter for 10 and you got yourself some trouble-making, wine-nutted, shameless females, all on their own brand of HRT let loose on the streets of London! Gercha! Thankfully, for PrettyBoy, Kerri's hubby James is off work, too! I will also be spending time with my twin sis who resides in Buckinghamshire also.
My baba wants to take us to Windsor. Of all the many visits down south, we've planned but never made it there. All that Beefeater and raven's stuff fascinates me. My biggest wish is to spend some time in Camden again. I love the gritty music and clothes shops, and the wheens of red buses and weird-savvy people that tread the street - oh, and to have my camera on the proper setting to recapture Banksy's signature on the Thames' tunnel, instead of the crap I botched up last year!
