October 22, 2014


Just for the record - I haven't effed off completely. We've had quite a time of it recently but will post more detail at a later date as I'm pressed for time right now. All I can say meantime is that I'm lucky mt hubby's still here among us. I'll resume normal service soon. I'm missing Magpie Tales and my bunch of regulars (especially Jon, Geo, Anne, Keith, Gwen, Doria, Richard, Helen) and all my Magpie Tale regular authors. I do aplogise if I'd missed anybody out! Regular Lena services will be up and running again soon....... Helena...XxX

July 22, 2014

The Fruit Loop

Forgive my passing footsteps and not stepping in your store
Despite your displayed fruit and veg being a brilliant lure

You see, my hubby grows his own, despite those grubby nails!
His hard work goes to highest lengths and nature then prevails

He grows fantastic produce, due to mighty love and care
Spends more time out in other beds than our one up the stair!

From apples, pears and strawberries, broccoli and beans
He's a man of many textures, sizes, smells and shades of green

So forgive my meantime absence, and now *cough* please beg my pardon
For I have an  effing genius who rules the entire garden

How tropical he makes the taste, a greenhouse full of mixture
Around the world in 90 days, one hot and glassy fixture

Though summer never lasts that long, right to the end he'll toil
To the last exhausted fruit that's saying goodbye to the soil

Until winter takes a hold again, I'll have to pass you by
I'm getting portions of my 5-a-day, from my green-fingered guy!


July 21, 2014

Dear Adam

Dear Adam........

Next time you forget your key and need to climb through the bathroom window, could you please close it firmly again instead of wide enough to let the cat in.  It's awful coming home to shredded toilet roll.  Especially if you are a lady......


July 17, 2014

Now He Nose!

Earlier on today we needed to clear a space in the attic to access repairs on the roof.   It is a place that we visit rarely, usually only to get the Christmas tree down.  Amidst a huge lot of McScrooge's fishing junk equipment was an old photograph.  This was the first time I had ever saw it but I knew right away it was my grandmother and grandfather.  She looked the spit of my oldest son, Ross/PrettyBoy.   He has the same facial features - especially the button nose.

I knew of the photo's existence but really have no idea how it ended up in my attic but I know my siblings and I usually share out such keepsakes so we all have bits to our past.  Of course, I was bequeathed the painting of my Grandmother as a girl, after my father's death, and it hangs in the middle floor of the house.  She has looked down upon us for 10 years now and will do so until my own grandchildren come along.   It's doubtful any future granddaughters will be named after her - my name was shortened a letter to Helen as it was more in touch with the 60's apparently!  I reverted back to origins of my name once I was interested in blogging. I'm sure she'd be happy about this now! 

There, unfortunately, is a bit of damage to the picture but given the amount of even more junk goods in my attic it escaped total destruction being fragile.  Sadly, I never did inherit her button nose and clear blue eyes but took after my Grandfather more.  Now, at last, PrettyBoy may believe me that  (despite the photograph being black and white)  those baby blue eyes actually came from somewhere down the family line and he wasn't vainly solely blessed with them to complete his 'package'.


Memories of my Grandparents are very clouded.  I was five when they died, within months of each other.  But from what I heard they were a very happy couple , musically talented, with some of the best genes a family has ever worn!


July 13, 2014

Threadbare Harlot

Covered it in carpet, polished it with paint
leads right to the very door where naughty boys acquaint
Feet of different fittings, climbing up the stairs
And yet… He remains in bed Staring at the ceiling She cries softly on the couch Feeling broken, used Just a receptacle for his need While she remains empty She fingers her phone Thinking of the invitation there Very casual A shared cup of coffee Nothing more, and yet She reads the real invitation In the depth of his eyes When he looks at her She wipes her tears as she thinks of fidelity and promises… He walks into the living room Suddenly shy She tries to cover her body With her red see through lingerie Her black hair covering her mascara streaked eyes He kneels down in front of her Pushing away her hair His eyes searching hers And holding t - See more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/prostitution#sthash.sUgRRSgj.dpuf
a fine day for hypocricy that is or isn't theirs

A steady flow of regulars, some more fresh of face
others terrified to even rid of her her lace
Descending down the carpet, guilt and shame and God forbid -
pray mum, the wife or clergyman won't find out what you did!

Neon lights they sizzle from the sign above her room
her nightly ritual smelling of cigars and French perfume
A quiet word of warning for the older gentlemen - 
to watch the threadbare carpet as they head back down again

A rowdy few, a roughland gang, can terrify and scare -
she'd scream out loudly for the cops, but they're already there!
Ridicule and nastiness, occasional bad blood -
sometimes the carpet caught their toes to land them with a thud!

A handsome little virgin, trying hard to keep his quest
spent the entire twenty minutes simply laying on her breast
Despite his intact youthful bits and less than manly dare
his feet would never touch a step for walking on pure air!

A copy of The Harlots House lay on her bedside table
Grace became her name and friend as far as it was able
Saw her through the game of mostly staring at the ceiling
a story that walked up the stairs and down with it's own meaning


Farewell soon to this, her means, with earnings vast and mighty
a little house all paid for, from this back street Aphrodite
Carpet colours, piles so thick and patterns to boot
a perfect fit throughout the house, for just her  little foot!


he looks up at the ceiling and wonders How life has changed him - See more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/prostitution#sthash.sUgRRSgj.dpuhard to believe this carpet is just a decade old,  secrets to let free........havana on it's knee

July 12, 2014

One Girl - Two Cups Of Flour

                  Why it's not a good idea to ask Kerri for a hand in the kitchen!

My darling daughter is always reaching out to those less fortunate.  She's made and donated food and drinks for the homeless and certain other charities - especially at Christmas.  Thankfully, this lot was for a ladies night in at her house!  I'm hiding the scales before her next visit!



July 10, 2014

Turkey Necked Tourists

I buy your general run-of-the-mill women's magazines a lot if there is footy on the telly  (and there has been loads of that recently).   I have made a bit of money over the years from having photo's and poems etc, published but I like to do puzzles as the boys roar abuse at the box.  Mind you, the puzzles aren't all that challenging (apart from Sudoku which I am utter shite at!) but it passes the time in a lazy-arsed way. Occasionally, I do online entries but never won yet.

  Often in these magazines they repeat stories of the same nature.  The cases of the Turkish toyboys and the stupid, desparate older women who are drawn in by these greasy slime-balls take the whole biscuit barrel. The story that shocked me more than others was the one of Mary and Vitol.  Vitol was 26 and Mary was 72.  She was targeted and groomed wonderfully by this man.  He was a handsome Turk whose silver-tongue won this silver-haired old numpty over.  In less than two years he managed to marry her.  Naturally, he didn't get granted a British visa - never even set foot on British soil - and instead settled for plan B.  Conning her into selling her house, she posted him the vast majority of the proceeds from it so he could  "make a love-nest''  back home in Turkey for them.  Thinking everything fine, she took a flight to Ankara to surprise him and he flipped out saying he hadn't wanted her to come until 'their' house was ready.  After two years of toing and froing the lira finally dropped.

So here was a case where a 26 year old felt  'love at first sight'  with a crinkly face-and-arsed 72 year old.   All it took was menial gifts, walks in the moonlight, (coz daylight was too embarrassing) texting and waterworks, to suck the life and means out of an old dear.  She didn't listen to the words of warning her offspring gave her when it came to selling the house and valuables.  Of course, being in love meant sex on tap and the young foreign man had to shag this powdery old puddock to seal an aura of truth between them.  Apparently, he loved her saggy bits, rash under her tits , baggy breeks, removable teeth, thinning hair, and failing eye-sight (every 26 year old man's dream girl!)  But just how blind was she?

In the wedding photo she wore her hair in pigtails in a desperate attempt to look younger.  The wedding officials' smirks in the pictures with them read  'yet another mug'.  You hear of older 'cougars' having a bit of fun with a toyboy, if fun is where it starts and ends. But it is also a shame that some grandchild could be missing out on some future education and financial security.  It's just a bigger shame that many stupid old slappers are being taken for a visa. What they really need is a mirror and a reality check!

July 06, 2014


They think of him as a little mad                           
consistency not a thing to be had
Feels not like red blood that flows in his veins
just a liquid concerto to capture his gains

An artful John Doe with eccentric guile
a clouded up basis for that ruthless smile
Moving around without wing, without wheel
some pertaining to him as a quick, gracious steel

Staring across the same crowded-out room
time for his business and bite to resume
Cements himself firm in the dimly lit corner
a bonafide nightly, morality mourner

Kisses the girls, the boys even better
posting himself like a brutal chain letter
Soon to engulf in narcotics and sweat,
a foul morning headache's as good as it gets

Mother and nature in pair didn't care
Father's hand, like his pride, simply never was there
Blessed this only child's rife ballyhoo
atonement for birth, but just who's fooling who?


July 03, 2014

Tsss. Thwiff. Kaboom. Sheeeee.......

Just in case any of my American friends and bloglisters pop by, this little gal would like to say:


I've some fireworks left over from Hogmanay,  so I'll set them off when it gets dark.  That should annoy the neighbours and confuse the neighbourhood cats.  I guess I could force down a glass or two of wine as well!


June 30, 2014

Lost Lady Luck

                             Lady Luck apologies
                            for her lack of showing face
                            Abandonment, no diamond rises
                            club or heart a darned disgrace

                            Lady Luck lets out no whisper
                            leaving you a suit no less
                            Notes like stakes, a whole lot crisper -
                            poker face to acquiesce

                            Lady Luck sits at your table
                            giving you the widest berth
                            Returning to you when she's able - 
                            winning streaks for all she's worth.

                            Lady Luck, now that's she's spoken
                            likes this table set for one
                            Absence is her strongest token -
                            Queen of Hearts orbits the sun.

                            Lady sits while Luck is dealing
                            Patience rules the gambled soul
                            Matters not what you're concealing -
                            just one victor to extol



June 28, 2014

Yet Another Vine Day At The Surgery

More antics at my daughter's dental surgery.......click top left for sound

          ☼  A Vine Start To The Week  ☼

                        '' So, I've just spilt water on myself in the shape of a penis! ''


June 25, 2014

The Final Wrap

On our weekly walk, McScrooge and I were fascinated in passing our route by the high school, to hear a piper playing and a party marquee erected with a huge sound system playing music.  We found out that for the first time it was to mark the end of a successful school year and the piper played in honour of a teacher's retirement.  Quite a decent way to wrap things up.

It also jogged my memory of PrettyBoy's last day ever of his  school days before uni.  Back then, the kids had their own idea of what last day of school should be about.  Now, we knew of his intention of dressing like an eedjit (hence the photo) but of the other stuff one of his mates let slip a week or two later.  So he and a group of his close mates had a series of pranks made up and thus went on:

*** They ran into the library with one of those 'horn in a can' things that you hear at football matches - and almost gave Mrs Jennings the clerk a coronary.

They tied adjacent classroom door handles together and banged on the doors simultaneously.

Jars of little fishes (baggy minnows) from a nearby pond were tipped into the staff room toilet sinks.

A huge dick was sprayed in cream or foam (he couldn't remember) on the head's office door.

The janitor's shed was ringed by school ties and his mop and bucket had loads of poster paint squirted into it.

And lastly (all that they were admitting to anyhow) bog roll was looted from the toilets and decorated over the school trees ***

I can see why Ross never confessed to any of this too soon.  But I can't help smiling when I think of the poor teacher who went to wash her/his hands after a piddle.

June 22, 2014


The sky with its clouds, talk to her clear and loud
in passing on this gentle morn
Lost in the heat, roses smelling so sweet
intertwining the scent of grass shorn

The air clean and pure, skin soft and allure
lulling those senses to sleep
Nothing to do, gentle breeze pushing through
in a hush that is all hers to keep

Now rubbing her eyes, as a warm nature sighs
its breath raising hair on her skin
Extending it's grace to another fine other place
where a heart and a soul beat within

A small fountain runs, as she sins in the sun
with the visions within her mind's eye
Him returning to earth, in a instant rebirth
in the guise of a lone dragonfly

(who makes a personal appearance in the pic!)


June 17, 2014

Wot's Up....!?

Cor - I really haven't been around these blogs for a wee while so here's a catchup of the past few weeks:

Malta is such a beautiful country. The 5 star Intercontinental Hotel would be holiday enough for me.  The top floor garden is simply divine and has ducks, koi carp and turtles homing in and amongst the gorgeous waterfall area.  What a sight from your bedroom balcony!   Managing to book the VIP part of the hotel (through friends) this made for a fantastic first-time-abroad-for-Adam experience!  Malta has changed so much and is a country that I would visit again but not in these summer months.   And there my Scottish homesick roots kick in!  What else?.......oh, yes.......


I'm getting increasingly fond of my son's little Jackahuahua and just finished doggy-sitting a couple of days ago.   Peepers was just the thing needed as an excuse to leave the house while all this live sport is going on. World Cup football, golf and ruddy motor racing - not to mention Wimbledon in a week's time.   Must be punishment for something, then.  But boy am I missing that ankle-biting, non-sleeping, fight-picking, over-crapping maniac of a mutt!

I managed to gather some rather nice wildflowers and weeds on our walk and came up with this rather drab bowing coffee jar display! I don't think I'll be picking many more!


That's the surgery over now, too!   Got home early last week and now simply have to wait on the biopsy results. The kinks and twists were successfully straightened and rid off of adhesions - one of the causes for the pain having returned so violently.  I won't be rid of pain completely but may manage it better.

The worst part of the whole operation was the pre-theatre cleansing of the bowel where I had to fast for 2 days while drinking 2 litres of the vilest solution I've ever had to force down.  Think Lemsip with Ouzo and a salty bitterness drawing your top lip back with each mouthful and you're a fraction there - despite looking every fluid ounce the cocktail.   Once back home I was effing starving and there was very little time in between discharge and a tray full of food.   The surgery was a bit of a worry for me as there is always the risk, no matter how small, of ending up with a colostomy bag.   Had that occurred I vowed to jazz the thing up with stick-on gems while perhaps smelling like a farmers boot. 

 I was also devastated at the death of my favourite comic last Monday. Comedy genius Rik Mayall, at a young 56.   Famous for The Young Ones, Bottom and Alan B'stard, he and his comedy partner Ade Edmondson (who wrote, starred and produced the above shows with Rik) changed the face of comedy with their alternative anarchic and zany characters starting back in the 80's.  This very household uses quotes from Rik and Ade's material, and have done for 20 years and will continue to do.  Very few celebs bring me to tears at their passing, well,  this is the first since Bambi's mum.  
It seems so unfair as he was a devoted father, husband and mega- friendly and generous to boot.  It shocked the world, really, and I was touched to see that within a few hours of the news there was Youtube tribute videos from fans as far away as America.  Some may remember him better as imaginary friend in the film Drop Dead Fred.  He'll be sorely missed. Such a cruel waste and it was this quote from his best friend and comedy partner that got me bubbling.  So, so fitting. I'll round things off now with a short video of when Drop Dead Fred and dog poo mix:


ps.......Giving my poetry, meme and other fun groups a miss this week.  I need to know what you guys have been up to first, and I'll be back writing from Sunday. 

May 28, 2014

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!


May 25, 2014

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


May 22, 2014

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!


May 19, 2014

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



May 15, 2014

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.....


May 12, 2014

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


May 07, 2014

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?


May 04, 2014

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


May 02, 2014

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!'

April 30, 2014

~ Scrap That Idea ~

It's been absolutely pissing down all day today so please ignore the previous post! 
                              No fence painting now,  then.......*sigh*


April 29, 2014

☼ Hot & High ☼

It has been such a glorious day here in Scotland - the first day that definitely saw the need for no jacket, and shorts were a fitting choice.  Even my hairy, hillwalking hubby put away his bobble hat in favour of the sun.  I cover up of course, being no fan of the sun but I enjoyed listening to all the summery goings on around me as I tended the back garden.

So I'd like to greet summer in - as we always do - by uploading the popular summer anthem song and video from  Hotel India  (my son's the drummer).  They shall be playing abroad at a Spanish UK debut festival (despite being 4 years together now) sometime soon!  I can't believe how young they look in this video.  Car windows down, stereo bass up and off we go!


April 27, 2014

Keyed Off!

Working with me sitting close by her side,
not the greatest idea when I'm there for the ride
Inspiring thoughts come, vacillate and then freeze,
when a wet nose pokes skin or drool lands on the keys

Bones last just minutes and toys lose their fun,
how dare she ingore me, I'm her number one!
Try if one must to lock me in the kitchen
I'll howl so hard it'll ruin her diction

What a bless├Ęd idea when there's time that is free
to be out having fun, not stuck on a settee
'One day I'll be famous!'  she tells me ( as if! )
as for now -  there's a park full of mutt-butt to sniff!

I'd try to distract her, and pee on the floor
but I'd have me  'ammonia nose'  (cold and sore!)
Right - I'll give her a half hour and curl for a snooze,
to create she a novel and down all her booze...............

OMG!  She's still at it - the wine bottle's grown -
time to up canine strategy - go at it full blown!
Drag the leash to her, whine loud and whine clear,
'whisper it to her you loud domineer!'

Jump on the cushions, wag tail in the face,
leave a smell so disgusting and lose doggie grace
Bark out the window at each one who'd pass,
till she's thinking more clearly and heads for the grass

I'll scratch myself silly and then lick my bits,
overtly X-rated till she's calls it quits
Or regress to my puppy-hood, give her those eyes,
tilt my head to left,  produce pitchy-high  sighs

Lay my chin on her shoulder, and paw at the screen
to shut off this pointless and useless machine!
All I want is a walk ( and a run at some point )
and selection of posts for my wee to anoint................

YAY!  I've won, she's sucumbed and accepted my lead,
these dogmatic charms making woman concede.
This writing malarky's a waste of a day,
when there's bounding and fetching and fights to waylay.

Wait a minute, what's happened, she's slipped in my bag,
besides balls, treats and poop-scoop and rub-me-down rag
That ruddy computer and bottle of wine
making me a confused and quite jealous canine!

Drop her guard for a minute, lay down that computer - 
I'll try in the muttiest manner to nueter,
the inside and out of such trouble and toils -
leaving it with no letters ( since I'm without balls ).........................

Guess what? I just heard her, she singing my praises,
telling someone about all those things that amazes
Referring to me - I'm her best friend and saviour,
despite my bad habits and odd misbehaviour

She's writing a poem all about me,
for the world and his wife and cute bitches to see
Posting up pictures on the webby-wide-world
a proud Labrador and his loyal pet girl!


April 25, 2014

Another Vine Day At The Surgery

Weekly antics at my daughter's Dental Surgery.....click top left for volume.

 " So this is MY breakfast.............and treats for everyone else! "


April 22, 2014

A Sure Wet Bet

A fun day's not a fun day lest it's pouring down with rain,
no flow looks more appealing than one gushing down  the drain.
Brollies will defy you, wind will take your breath away -
forced in one direction,  jelly legs and disarray!

No point in any picnic, no dry spot in the park
these raindrops meaning business, won't let up till after dark.
Children getting dragged along to buy a wet balloon
while dad's asking directions to the nearest town saloon.

Stalls have given up the ghost, and packed away their goods,
eyes with dripped mascara peeking underneath their hoods
Entertainers cancelled, no sailing ships on sale,
handing out free steaming cups of horrible sea kale.......

You can always guess the weather to this annual event,
where wind and wetness rule supreme -  truly heaven sent.
Some say it's pure ironic that everyone gets wet -
it kind of sells itself it's message:   'Fun Day for the Sea Cadets!'


April 17, 2014

Kelpies, Kisses , Kerri and Kin

Tonight, after 10 months, sees the grand opening of  The Kelpies - the latest new landmark to hit Central Scotland.   It is in conjunction with a new canal extension and land transformation of a family park to be named  The Helix.

The Kelpies name reflects the mythological creatures (similar to a sea horse)  possessing and enduring the strength of 10 horses or more.   It is also in respect to the working horses of the past that the Scottish industry and economy heavily relied on, especially canal tow horses.                                 

These huge guys, from artist Andy Scott, are 30 metres high, made of structural steel and cladding and will be lit up in random colours every night.   Opening too, is a visitor centre where learning, posh coffee and over-priced trinkets can be purchased.

  Sadly, we couldn't make the firework-laden celebration tonight (way  past Horlicks time ) but my baby daughter and her hubby, who were up on a visit, went with us to see them a few days ago.  Unfortunately access to view the horses face on was restricted still but the snaps aren't too bad!

But no matter how many pieces of horsey-artistic sculpting go up all over Scotland, no one will please me more than Glasgow's Duke Of Wellington With Traffic Cone - respectfully
crowned by drunk uni students every weekend.  The sight is so popular now that you can buy souvenirs, clothing and jewellery in tribute to it.  My tee-shirt's in the post! 

Tattie Bogle!

Photos top to bottom
Son-in-law James with my Hairy Hillwalking Hubby * Daughter Kerri with James * Me and me daughtah (from The Kerri Vine Series) * The Kelpies side on * Duke of Wellington statue P


April 14, 2014

The Philandering Fe-HE-line

Attitude selfish, appearance first class
bringing you down with a tongue full of sass
Immaculate jacket, no hair out of place
conceited and cruel written over his face

Slowly he moves with his feline-like bones
staying well clear of we common unknowns
Spending his day as he solely sees fit,
watching with green eyes scrunched into a slit

Sycophant-ready, used for his own gain 
you're a cast aside trophy he won't need again
Forcing commands and insisting on now
you daren't deny, disagree, disavow

So why then be loving, this master of pride
lulling you from both the in and outside 
A warm armchair manner, an equal respect -
leaving a lasting dejected affect 

Slinking off from you on night-ego trips
giving you both disrespect and the slip
Meandering round leaving scent from his pores
scratching out eyes while contending for whores

Morning will see him home, needy for rest
to muster and gather and to reinvest
As this big-shot and cumbersome cat-got-the-cream
juices up on importance and rich self-esteem.......................

This  Mr. I Only  should so get a pet
to care for and learn from, with character set
Where love's unconditional, loyalty lies
where you're nothing but perfect in their almond eyes

A little affection, a nice meal or two,
a spot on the king bed curled up next to you
Some stroking and grooming, a thick fireside mat
a best friend forever - a cool kitty cat!

April 10, 2014

Hanks - God For Beauty Pageants

On my insomnia nights, I channel hop like an eedjit.  Lately, I've been watching the beauty pageant show Toddlers and Tiaras.  Not quite up on the show I've just come to realise what it entails.  Basically, it's letting little girls (sometimes boys) learn that beauty and perfection is first and foremost in life.  Life is a competition of looks to which  you must comply. To reach such a point you must cake on make up, undergo fake tanning, hair bleaching, teeth bleaching, nail extentions and wear teeth partials if need be.  False eyelashes are mandatory.  All this is topped off with ridiculous Dynastyesque hairpieces or hot rod mega-curls!  Just the beginning.

Of course, it's really about women (usually fat)  living their lives vicariously through their child.  Numb-skull women, who you'd think must hate their daughter's, by forcing them to wear vomit-inducing sequin dresses (with a stupid looking Tudor ruff doubling as a skirt).  Later, these make-up ravaged kids are forced to perform on stage like deranged chimps, off their nut on sugar highs, terrified of putting a step out of place lest they face the wrath of mother, who couldn't give a shit what their poor snotty-nosed, crying baby is crying for as long as it doesn't make her mascara run.

It's all covered up, mind you, under the  'I'm merely supporting my child's hobby'  category and nothing to do with exploiting them for their own crass and fucking selfish purposes.   I've seen mother's cussing each other off, calling other children ugly, reducing themselves to bribery (often a puppy or kitten as the lure) as long as they score high by the judges.  Points will be taken off for  'not being sparkly enough'   'the dress being too long / short by an inch'    'not looking the judges in the eye'    'turning too quick'    'dropping the forced smile for a second as lip muscles were about to stick' .  Utter tripe like that.  The berating of their kid for such shitting meaningless bollocks borders on abuse!

My biggest objection to all this tripe is the sexualisation of the young contestants.  There have been themed pageants where even  pre-school age kids have dressed as a prostitute (Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman) as sex symbols Marilyn Monroe,  Beyonce,  Britney Spears and Madonna - with added cone breasts.  Scantily clad  is part of life, yes, but not for tressing and dressing up baby dolls who don't have a fucking clue who they are meant to be.  They've had a coach teach them how to gyrate and copy quite risque dance moves.  One little kiddy  was thrown onstage, with a false cigarette in her hand, doubling as Sandy from Grease and her mother's last words of encouragement before she went on stage :

                                       'Don't forget to smoke, babe!' -

                                               She was four fucking years old!!

The makers of Toddlers and Tiaras do still cater and film the negative and somewhat emotional side of things.  Each show, from the few I've watched anyway,  there is often objections to the length the mother's go to, to do them up like a dumb arsed show horse.  Some just want to go home, want it over with as they're exhausted and merely want to play with other kids around.  Some older girls are quite competitive and in fear of failing.  Some poor little gits are already beginning to shape-shift into their certifiable mothers.  My fascination lies in those children who talk to their mothers and helpers like shit.   You can't help but to see them as bastard demanding little demons from the sparkly gutter!  God, if I'd spoke to my mother like that......!  And don't even start me on the cost of the average pageant!  PUT THE MONEY AWAY FOR YOUR KID'S FUTURE EDUCATION, I shout out loud. Then again, some have the money for both.  I'd be curious to see how a pageant forced child copes with later in life school.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with girls being girls.  I love it when my daughter is up and I've some female company for a spell, where it's all make-up, perfume, shoes and stuff.  I used to love my niece's visits where she had me looking fabulous in minutes.   Sparkly purple eye shadow on one eye, green on the other,  mega-orange cheeks and bright red lippy!  Then she'd comb my hair into her own (tuggy) unique style where the comb often got lost.  Sometimes she'd brings her crowns to play princesses.  We were worm-snapping Princesses of The Back Garden but hey! - that's still a title!!   If I asked her to choose her  Outfit of Choice, her ultimate choice would be mud-covered anything with (more often without) wellies and her Grand Supreme reward would be a jar full of tadpoles.    Because she, unlike these poor little sods, had a bit more option and scope of the world.  Sure, competition is healthy but it's important to know when to draw the line.

This parody by Tom Hanks is amazingly funny and so, so politically correct!  Watch it through.  It's a winner!