Dear Adam

Dear Adam,

Next time your lady friend stays the night, could you please see to it that she manages to get both dangling diamonique earrings onto the bedside table.  I was half an h0ur fishing  one of them out from the hoover tube!

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Clutter Them Up!

I work more efficiently with clutter, my hubby works better with space. I thought this the perfect opportunity to dedicate this to him.  Hold on......there goes the hoover....see what I mean!!?


I hear them say, that charity, begins here right at home
well in this place, a lack of  space, leaves not much room to roam
A tidy minded, loosely guided, hubby paces floor
guards within the rubbish bin, behind the kitchen door

Calls it hoarding, and according to him it's all trash -
my imperfection, book collection tossed out in a flash
All my stuff, in hairy huff, he'd donate to the needy
while I delight, in messy might, oh yes, indoody deedy!

Brass and plastic, bright fantastic ornaments and things -
shades and cards, pot plants for yards, junk jewellery and rings
No paper, litter, things that glitter, ever hang around -
music sheets, still incomplete, get scrunched and bucket bound

The cheeky git, will not permit, my muddy bike inside -
next time that I, cycle rely, 'twill be a soggy ride
No dirty face, shoe laces laced, hair ribbons tightly tied
he'll check your shoes, for doggie poos, before you come inside

Vase antiques, dolls quite unique, and rarely seen again -
may get, oh, no! the big heave-hoe, in this mess-free domain
My memories, old thing that please, grow stronger every year -
suitcases filled, history built with every souviner 

Some doors bursting, husband cursing following a rumble -
contents spill, lost all goodwill, and patience starts crumble
Guitars all rusted, him disgusted, moths and spider webs -
full hypertension, if I mention what's beneath the bed

Maybe I should, attempt some good, I know he'll never change -
a neat old codger, his housework dodger, need to rearrange
I leave him there, in his old chair, with paper and a scotch
I'll work each day, for peace not pay, in some charity shop

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The Sometimes Smoker

On route home from a long walk  recently, McScrooge and I decided to have a quick drink in a local pub's beer garden.  Sitting across from us was another couple we hadn't seen for years.  Gathering at a bench table for a quick catch-up,  Ann, shortly after,  took a pack of cigarettes from her bag, and the chat went something like this:
          
                 '' Is it okay to light up? ''
                 '' Sure,'' I replied, '' I never knew you smoked. ''
                 '' Well, I really only smoke when I'm out in company, not at work and never in the house.''
                 '' Oh, so you can go for days without a ciggie? ''
                 '' Sometimes weeks, '' she added.
                 '' Really?,'' I said, still kinda wondering what the point was.
                 '' I like a smoke about as much as I like a sweetie.   Even if it's a sweetie I don't like - I'll hang on to it but eventually smoke it!''

     There's a slight taste of  Nabokov in that statement somewhere only I'm still trying to work it out!

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Daintily Does It

 

Little Miss Dainty has afternoon tea 
most days at a quarter to three 
Equipped with big eyes and a stole round her neck 
with lips that are red as can be

Shooting her gaze round the Chez Petite Plats
(though it makes good on Earl Grey as well)
Looking to lock with lone gentlemen there 
through this crowding of fine clientele

So finds she a man who invites her to sit - 
wouldn't see her this anxious at all
Gives him the story of being stood up 
then lets crocodile tears start to fall

By the end of the teapot, she cracks him a smile 
the poor man has been suckered in
So their meeting steps on to a nearby saloon 
both their sorrows to be drowned in gin

A room in the public house, they ended up
distress and hurt gone now for sure 
Him asleep in a heap of strong violets and lies 
she quietly sneaks out the door

Little Miss Dainty now heads out of town 
while counting his money with glee 
Spending today in a town oh so new 
stopping off for some afternoon tea

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Cat's Amazing!

Some of you may already have seen this but I simply have to blog it!    Filmed via different angles on home surveillance cameras, it shows a little kid playing on his bike outside his house on a California street, where a neighbour's dog sneaks up from behind and viciously attacks the four year old.   From nowhere comes the little lad's pet cat, Tara, and sets about the dog at what looks like a case of sheer protection and sees the bastard of a mutt off.    God knows how worse the wee soul's injuries may have been  (the end footage on this video is bad enough!)  if it wasn't for Mighty Moggie's quick intervention.

I have a cat , Boaby, who annihilate's the dogs next door (Rottweilers) if they dare do a sneaky into our garden.  They retreat with their tails (had they any) between their legs at the mere sight of him,  yet there are smaller cats who enter the garden that he wimps over.  It's very doubtful, however, that he would have acted in the same way in a similar situation.   I do believe he'd sit there, licking his arse occasionally, and watch me get mauled! 

Cat's often get unfairly judged, coming across as sleekit, selfish, fussy things.   They are  temperamental but thanks to the world wide web, we see loads of incredible feline video's leaving us in awe.   I think we expect more amazing things from dogs but I doubt we will see things of this kind very often.....

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Raising Agent

                                             Mother's Day may have passed in Britain but I still
                                                                                                                      wanted to acknowledge the special day in 
                                                                                                                                             some form nonetheless.
                                                    
Where gravity denies the lift
amongst the clouded zone shall sift
A mother built on earthly highs
all candy floss and battle cries

A heroine whose incantation  
binds with every inhalation
Protector in their guarded den
a cook, a nurse, comedienne

Nurture high up in her nature
no grand reward for her labour
Just a little slice of sleep
to then recharge, forever keep

Their childhood in a jar of hearts
to never empty or depart
To grow and beat and redesign
allowed across that boundary line

That dreadful haul, that clouded zone
that sees her main role overthrown
Till then she'll go yet unaware
of rising inches in the air

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Talk Of The Devil-Dug!

Excuse me if I'm not about much or late on my meme/writing groups comments.   I am doggie-sitting for my son and his girlfriend all this week as they are holidaying in Portugal.  Meet Hetfield  (yes, after the bloke in that Metallica band).   Face of an angel, nature of the Tyrannosaurus Rex.   He's got loads of energy and walking him can be a bit of a pain as he's very wary of the world  (he was badly abused before his owners bought him from a rescue centre) and often starts to growl when pedestrians near.  Motorbikes, cyclists and golfers seem to giddy up the louder growls.    The biggest problem is my cat and he just won't bond.    Boaby attacks him if he gets close enough and we've had to juggle sleeping and feeding rituals.   Anyhow - it'll be back to near-normality next week!  Hasn't he got an 'awwwwww'  face, though?


                                   







On the other hand, does anyone know a good Exorcist?


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Ridden Redemptions

She often sits upon this chair, normality up in the air,
steps through thoughts, spoon feed ideas, as nipping as a hot tortilla

Spread her wings and light damnation, holy doubts for confiscation,
knowing not how to be glib, she'll make ammends for what you did

Then scavenging the few remains, she'll circle over greater plains,
not quite the gracious nor the sinner, nitpicked courses served for dinner

But there she sighs and there she sits, one of life's condemned misfits,
a delinquent doused in aftertaste, with sad tomorrows interlaced

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Crushed Stuff and Corkscrews

Way-hey!  Found an old lottery slip from March while collecting the upstairs dirty washing pile, matched three numbers and won me £10!   That's me sorted with a nice Chardonnay and Jelly Babies for tomorrow's humungous ironing.   Oh, yes, that biweekly torture where I overdose on omnibus Judge Judy and  Deadly Women episodes - sinister sounding, I know - to help get me through the dastardly deed!    This time the wine is an added bonus and won't be opened until 11.30am the afternoon.

Anyhow, I can say in all honesty that there's a (99.9%) small chance the ticket may have been Adam's as I have no recollection of buying one in March!   But I've decided that since the ticket was found on my premises it is therefore mine.

 What?!   D'you know how much it'd cost him for a domestic ironing company to tackle that mountain-load?!



I know....JJ would give me an instant  'case dismissed!'
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