Just Because - What Makes You Cry....?

I'm intending on using this as my Music Monday song of this week on my other blog but I thought I'd treat any other visitors here to this cracking (and very short - so no excuses not to have a listen) video.  It's quirky, fun, and beautifully catchy. So: What Makes You Cry?



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Not Standing A Chance

In just over a week, a second baby girl in Britain has been attacked and killed by the family pet dog.  Only yesterday six day old Eliza-Mae from Wales, was mauled by an Alaskan malamute,  considered docile and having never showed aggression.  Exact circumstance has yet to be reported and for now the dog is still alive.

Nine days prior, a beautiful 11 month old baby, Ava-Jane from Blackburn in England, was mauled to death by her mother's partner's pit bull.  The baby had been asleep and settled upstairs for the night when the dog pounced for 'no apparent reason'.  This breed of pit bull is prohibited in Britain and the owner faces prosecution for that fact alone.  This dog had a reputation for being a menace in the neighbourhood and was, ironically, called Killer!  It was immediately put to sleep.


I grew up with Golden Retriever dogs that my father and brothers took on hunting and fishing trips.  They were the friendliest and most obedient dogs in the neighbourhood but if family and friends visited with any really young kids, the dogs were secured out back after a short supervised 'hello' from the children.  And let's be honest - some dogs need protecting from kids, so outside and away from the little terrors indoors was probably best all round.

All it takes is a bit of thought and consideration.  A new child, this squirmy and noisy thing brought into a territory out of the blue  (as was the case of little Ava Jane - it was her boyfriends' house the baby died in)  must confuse and upset a pet used to all the attention.  Even animals are jealousy prone.  No one likes their kingdom invaded.

Seventy-five percent of all dog attacks are made by the family pet.  These statistics have been around a while, as have horror stories been widely reported through media and yet the mixture of baby and risky dog continue to grow.  We see very young parents pushing a pram, accompanied by a pit bull or rottweiler!  That seems to be an absolute must here in Scotland!  Some have even lied to breeders their child status on purchase of the animal!  The under five warning is disregarded in desperation of owning a Staffy!

No matter how well we think we know our pets, instinct is always part of them.  Even the most docile and trusted dog can have an off day, feel ill and wane from it's usual nature.  These babies stood no chance in those powerful jaws. What a way to die.  Pity some owners put pet and offspring under the same regard.
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No Exit

                                                                  Keep a look out for the little - or large - edits in the picture!

 
Down the rusty stairs of shame
Deceit so sweet time and again
A backstreet place, alone and lairy
Spiderwebbed and ordinary

A little flat of dreary hue
Perfects a hidden rendezvous
Where darkness lures and instincts shove
Against that lowly lamp of love
 
Its walls provide and  shutters shelter
Sliding down guilt's helter skelter
Can't escape and don't know why
Relentless needing to comply

Secrecy unleashed on silk 
As nurturing as mother's milk
Will not erase the fool in thee
When home alone and she with he

A multitude of neon signs
Pulsates the exits of the mind
And let exciting fears ferment 
To pay the price before the rent?

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♥ Love Is In The Heir ♥

I've got this yearly commitment of sending a certain someone a card on 14th February.  No - this lady of latter years won't be buying her hubby a Valentine's Card.  Oh, no!  The card is for another man - our handsome, oldest son -  for it was Valentine's Day that Ross/PrettyBoy came into the world.   It's nuts fighting the queue's of the loved-up & losers with their hearts and roses and stuff just to purchase a burpday card!  But he's
worth it!

And now on the other wuvvy son side!  I was ever so glad to find out that GingerJesus/Adam is back in regular touch with HIS first love.    I know you shouldn't judge, pick, or comment on your offsprings' choice in gf/partners, but welcome them as best you can and be there to pick up the emotional pieces if it goes wrong.   But I was soooo excited to learn that he and Tierney - who met each other at a cute 15 - had gone for a meal one night,  then stopped over the next.  Old flames reignited!   They drifted apart after a while due to education, work and family commitments.  But life's more settled for them now.  I love this girl to bits and know they couldn't be better suited. Bubbly, sweet, funny, hard working, pretty and kind are but a few of her qualities.   Don't get me wrong - I've welcomed any other date or two he's brought back but I'm so hoping love truly is in the future air again for them!

Ending now, on a bit of a puzzler.  On passing a charity shop today, in the window besides hearts, roses, confetti and stuff, were two large-framed pictures with a real bride and groom posing sweetly.    The era for the snap, judging by the style, looked like an 80's or early 90's happy couple and they certainly didn't tick the pearly boxes a picture-perfect appearance snap a studio would use!   Now, I'm not always the sharpest pencil in the box but it had me wondering as to what was actually on sale here and why.   Was it to draw attention to the rather majestic frames surrounding the photo?   Maybe reject items of an in-law who'd at last got her baby back?   Recovered from a skip?   And what was the 'today' story of the smiley couple.   I know when my first marriage went tits up, most of the wedding snaps were cursed, torn, binned or darted at.   I almost went into the shop out of mere interest.  Aha!  Maybe that's the lure-you-in strategy bit?   Whatever the reason I still felt it a bit strange, and sensed a kind of sadness about it.

Whatever your romantic notion may be, have a Happy Valentines Day.   And to some, just have a Happy Friday.   I know I'll be giving a graphic account of how, 25 years ago, a certain young fop caused me great pain, near splitting me in two, and turned me into a sweating, panting, growling, abusive demon for 10 hours!   Before or after he blows out the candles....? We'll see! 

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Day Off Kiss Off

Oh no, your key turns in the lock
you're home an hour early!
I promised to clean out the car
and polish it till pearly!

Those bins are overflowing still,
forgot to shell the peas
There's no lentils in the lentil soup
expect no guarantees.

Forgot to take the doggie out -
slept right through the alarm
I guess one piddle up the wall
will do the house no harm

I tried my hand at hoovering -
some bloody noise that makes!
But I had to hide the evidence
of breakfast's crumbly cakes

See! The pile of clothes for ironing
no longer tops the chair,
(just crushed it all into a bag
that's underneath the stair!)

YaY! I watered all the indoor plants
with innocent intent
But overflowed the pots by using
metric measurement

Be careful as you walk around 
that shelf piled high with books
For that doggie piddle's not the only
sure relief he took!

And I know I said I'd weed the drive
but dandelions are tough
That 'L' shaped metal weedy thing
near took a nail right off!

I popped out quickly to the shops
where faced with a consign
Was a grocer so hell bent on selling
me a vintage wine  (hic)

In my favour (that's not faring well)
I managed to complete
The making of our king-sized bed
with every corner neat

I'm pure and simply guilty of
domestic misdemeanor
Now, I think it's time we walked that page
and found ourselves a cleaner

Oh, you know that you'll forgive me,
once my lips form their sweet pout
For I've juggled up your senses
and played annoyance out

Lets crush these satin bed sheets 
in this non-marital bliss
And seal our wreakless lifestyle
with a neat and tidy kiss.

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Fabby Cash Cabbie

The older I'm getting, the easier pleased I seem to be.  I don't usually enjoy the same TV shows as him, but The Cheaper Half introduced me to this zany American quiz show called Cash Cab.  It consists of random public requiring a ride, so enter the taxi where suddenly the roof above them bursts into lights and chimes.   The host/driver (Ben Bailey) duly invites them to answer general knowledge questions en route to their destination -  which are mostly a minimum of 10 blocks away.  

Winnings go up the harder the question ( $50, $100, $200, amounts ) and you can call a friend to help with an answer, or even shout out the cab and ask a passing pedestrian to help.  If all goes well you are offered double or nothing (if you are still in the game at your destination )  all pending on a video clip question but most just take the money and eff off!   During all this, you are allowed 3 wrong answers, a wrong 4th means you get chucked out the cab there and then, putting some OTT whoopers' gas at a peep! At best you're a good few hundred dollars up, at worst you get a free taxi ride lest you still have the remainder of your journey to see out! 

Any possible British who are suckers for mad format and  haven't seen it yet, it's on Quest TV every morning @ 7am.  My only complaint is that Ben the driver happily hands THEM money and no one thinks about tipping the poor guy as they exit!  Ah, well, he doesn't seem to mind.  The most we hold out hope on from our taxi driver is that he doesn't fart out last night's lager, chips and curry sauce before our destination.



Gee, I dunno. I'll be posting recipes next!

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Introducing.......The Kooshtie!

I take great pleasure in presenting Scotland's latest brand new band,  The Kooshtie.   Front man, Oliver, is PeaPod's best friend and some may remember him from No Need For Idols, who PeaPod still drums and composes with.  

Unfortunately, original actors booked for the filming of this video pulled out through illness at the last minute, but director Simon Gillespie persuaded the bands' actual friends to come forth and invented simple ideas as  filming went on.  Shot in no time at all !   The prodigal son wasn't performing in this video but instead makes a cameo appearance from 4.02 at the end!  

They're a great bunch of kids to know personally and it's been an honour to have had one or two of them stumble and vomit from an upstairs window in a room where JD's, song and notions have stirred and started up in!

Right -  here's The Kooshtie with their debut single Go-Get'er:



They'd like a YouTube 'like' if you'd like to 'like', like!
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Sir's Symphony

I said I could play you, in all sorts of ways
Leaving lessons in longing to hiss through the haze
Captivate, demonstrate, lull you right in
Like tonic to absinthe, green fairy in gin

Oh, I do love to play you, dynamically so
Till your head spills with madness, and senses bestow
On the line, disincline invites to go
Peck marks from the tiger, paw prints from the crow

How much more shall I play you, my vested delight
Under sleep depravation and bumps in the night
Nom de plume, be back soon, never the twain
As is Bonnie to Tarzan and Clyde is to Jane

Ever more then to play you, my sweet acolyte
As our keyboard's fermenting its black and its white
Good or bad, lost but had, certainty spurned
Pupil teaching the tutor, while class is adjourned 

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Dear Adam

Dear Adam,

Wiping the top of my  tea candle oil burner more thoroughly will help prevent me from knowing it has been used as an ashtray while you've wallowed in the bath.

Mum

xXx

ps.........wrapping a bit loo roll around the cigarette butt also helps to make sure it flushes clean away!

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Flat-out or Fifty?

It didn't hurt too much.  Made the next '0' without any major hiccups. My twin sis and my daughter sadly couldn't make it up from London as originally planned, but as Kerri put it, when we do manage our next get-together it will be done in momentous-knees-up style.  My lads PrettyBoy and PeaPod, made sure I wasn't heading for snuffleland, as this was the first birthday with that milestone zero in, that I haven't shared with my twin.

Anyhow - I was delighted with the cake that Carlene - PrettyBoy's partner - made for me.  Decorated with favourite Swizzel Sweets from my childhood ( Love Hearts, Parmaviolets, Fizzers etc ) with a lolly representing each decade passed, I was in tooth decay Heaven.  Later on, PeaPod put to me that in balance, now that I'm getting REALLY old,  I no longer befitted my  ' a-big-kid at heart ' title, but upgraded to 'a-teenager-at-heart' (with arthritis).  

 So, God help womanhood if bubble perms, Simon Shirts, and tartan-rimmed cropped trousers are all the trend again.  God help Neil Sutherland (my high school crush) Jimbo Miles (my much older brothers' friend ) and Robert McMillan ( my handsome, 6ft 4in 'first' whose arms my big brothers may still want to break ) for ever having ruled my heart.  R.I.P  Spangles, Peanut Treets and Robertson's Gollywog Blackcurrent Jam.  God bring back Tiswas, Barbapapa and Mr.Hopwood from Grange Hill to our HD ready screens, and turn back time to stop Duran Duran, Tenpole Tudor and Sister Sledge from ever having entered the charts.  

But, as I may even had been too old back then in teen-mode, I'd easily settle still for a pair of clackers,  a Pippa Doll (gee, those girls had class and great taste in men ) and most desired by me, a 3D Viewmaster.  Any theme, I'm not fussed. So, c'mon, Lord.  I know you can't help Muvva Naycha being a bitch and aging us but how about a mini miracle, a little slice of the past to help ride my remaining years out?  There's cake in it for you if you do..........
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I'd never have missed a day at school if Mr.hopwood had been MY woodwork teacher! AND he'd never get away with this kind of 1980's thing in today's classroom.....but ain't he 'andsome!?


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Laden

As winter grasps it does its best to trap us all inside
Dimension vast in purest white, horizon lines collide

While in the midst uncertainty will tilt a prying head
And bring about a consequence for each one's daily bread

With heart of stone and iron will, the grinder crunches through
Mechanically groaning for the simple and the roux

And delivers there to many, on the snow filled beaten track
A cart, a heart, a lifeline slowly building up the stack

So let the land be laden with a blanket fit to plough
For the summers brimming harvest covered more than God allows

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Class Acts & Onions

We mostly know that I leave cooking and such like to my Cheaper Half!   I do occasionally offer my services in the preparation of courses to wit I'm not too bad at .   Providing there is a box of Elastoplast and a swear tin handy,  I'm happy to chop away.  

 Strangely, when it comes to the cutting of onions I am extremely tolerant to that making my eyes water.  In all honesty, I cannot remember the last time my eyes went bulb moist!   I can only surmise the onion is now exacting revenge on the 21st century public, for some past-life humiliating, mutilation treatment or other and I was Queen Onion Worshiper of Ancient Egypt! 

Of course, there are plenty hints and trials on how to keep tears at bay while chopping onions.   My hubby suggests chopping and slicing the onion under water.   But what kind of advice is that?  Does he really expect people to keep popping up for air every 60 seconds or so?   He may be an excellent cook but he can't half be silly at times...!!

C'est Le Bow

Don't really matter if I'm getting wet
But I can't let my buddy go soggy
It's just him and I and a French cigarette
When the sea air is crystal or foggy

If the wine house has hired a musician like me
Then it's out on the streets to perform
Under a canvas or under a tree
Till the passing of rudeness and storm

Kids shout as they run past, old women hold ears
The scraping out-bellows the tuts
An instrument yearning orchestral austere
Which hurts like a kick in the guts!
 
Nay, we don't make a fortune, just clutter and noise
Only pleasing the odd girl or fellow
Romanticist's folly from belly to bow
A man and his best friend the cello

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Really Feelie Wheelie Dealie

As I'm heading towards the big 5-0 even faster (days now rather than weeks) my thoughts are with my twin, Margaret, abbreviated to Maggs (in England) but Migi (in Scotland).   Sadly, due to commitments non negotiable, she has to remain in London, while I have to in Scotland, on the actual day!   We as a family still plan a birthday get together shortly after.  But I will miss her like crazy on the 27th.

Memories are turned to our youth and school days in particular which resurfaced fairly recently in the shape of Gail McArthur ( I promise to add you on FB soon. Ish. ) whom I bumped into after decades as I was visiting my doctor for my monthly fumble.

        I was reminded of what a pair of mental and zany (Migi more than me) girls we were and a stint involving a certain admirer.   There was a lad who was really sweet, a geek and a nervous one at that - who really fancied me.  He knew the difference between my twin and I easily enough because Migi's first words to him were always :

                                 " Fuck off,  Leslie!"

 Anyhow - between us we managed to convince him that I loved wheels - prompted perhaps by a favourite book I read (and still do) in my youth.   I said I collected them but just in the singular. Car wheels, bikes, wheels from toys - any toys, water wheel, steering wheels from boats, cogs, car rims, any crap like that. We thought no one would fall for that or find it extremely weird and be scared off.    But oh, no!   Next thing we knew - the back garden was teeming with  'anonymous'  round crap - and my dad went nuts as he came to the door with a few 'items' for me.  He even went to the extent of making model  'wheels' out of matchsticks for me.  Matchstick modelling was big back in the 70's, you know!   Now it was time to flatten the poor bloke's tyre before he learned to unicycle! 

 Unlike my twin's subtle approach towards him,  I was ordered to tell him it was all a cruel hoax and I should be ashamed of myself.  I didn't.   I said my dad told me to get rid of my collection for a proper one.  He also said something about an exorcist too, come to think of it!   Oh, Leslie......I wonder what you're doing now? 

So, with such mad and  happy memories, I'm thinking more towards the end of April and arranging a get together as best as, with old mates, ect.   There's a few more 50th April birthdays among we friends (I've a good memory for dates!) and worth a consider if the idea kicks in early enough.   Old photographs will have to be draped over the walls with the other deco.  So many old childhood friends and high school friends have hunted my twin and I down via Facebook, and admittedly, I rarely keep in touch with any of them.  Email a few, but my twin was always the popular one of we two! 

On leaving high school, Migi parted with, tattoo, 10 Players No.6, felt tip pen graffiti all over her blazer, and 4 inch stilettos.   I left with pristine uniform, lip balm, loafers and a snobbish attitude.   But Migi has the bigger heart.   I can be quite selfish at times but Gail's chat left me missing my twin even more and memories of the things that made us us.

 We'll hire a hall get together as many old mates and heart breakers, book a band or two or three we know and just let the youthful fun and confessions explode!   We may not ever have shared the same music, taste in blokes, clothes and the likes but our sense of humour and our genes, has never split.  And that's wheelie special.

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Little Visits

                   Not my best topic but I thought I'd try a supernatural theme.  I had fun with it anyhow!Can you see the little visitor in the picture...?

There's a tap on the door, that whisper again
as clear as the beam that emits
Drawing me ever so near to the edge
where me and herself often sits

Laughter awakens me,  barefooted steps
are chasing the violet scent
That follows me spirally up to the top
as the thrashes of waves circumvent

Ribbons attach to the railings around,
seaweed invites itself in
A brooch hops about with no help from a hand
and lullaby echoes begin

A touch to the forehead, shadows that flit,
a quickening hush of the waves
Things thrown from high in the lantern room,
brought back on the gentlest lave

The sea took a gemstone, all calmness and light
adopting a beautiful pearl
Who misjudged the rocks leading back from the tower 
a poor little slip of a girl

Such a beautiful haunting, the lighthouse agrees,
who'll believe it when he comes ashore?
The word of a Mariner heavily fuelled 
with a lost soul and whisky galore

So there around runs little Molly, 
with eyes of aquamarine
Saying  hello with her antics -
felt but yet still to be seen

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Some Dearly Departed.....and Some Not Quite

My heart goes out to a neighbour today.  On passing his house, there are a few signs that he has returned home.  Some may have heard of the Glasgow tragedy involving a police helicopter crashing into the Clutha Bar last November, killing 10 people.  We knew the pilot's father, Mr Traill, quite well, as he regularly brought his two Collie dogs to our park for exercise and fun.  All the kids loved the dogs, Digger and Rambo, and often joined in play with them.  This is tragedy enough, but 3 years earlier, he lost his younger son to cancer.  It's the initial words, after the sympathy cards are taken down, that I'll struggle with.

In saying that - let me tell you of another happening at a recentish death.  My older son's partner, Carlene, returned from the funeral of a family friend, clutching a programme.  The planned hyms were popular, speeches fitting, and I think 'Ole Blue Eyes even had an airing.  The only hiccup was the photo on front of the cards wasn't of the deceased.

Carlene's mum, the best friend of the dearly departed,  organised the keepsake tribute cards, taking in a favourite picture of her and her best friend to the printers and somehow 'someone' got it wrong.  Maybe it was grief, panic, hurry, whatever.....it was certainly a clanger of the major sort.  However, copies were retrieved and all in all it was considered something the best friend would find very funny.  And yes, I couldn't help but giggle, too!  But I swear - if Metallica in some way, shape, or funny form find their to my last stand, I'll haunt the guilty one All Nightmare Long......!

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My Toon

             

Just a quick poem that takes me back to my youthful, old town roots.  It's not ALL from actual memory and stories...*ahem*

'Come unto me', the borough sighs,
amid the air its streets supplies
Offering a multitude 
of promises, the night exudes

Ladies dominate the clubs
and smirks at all the men she snubs 
Cobbles making ankles twist,  
shines sequins dresses through the mist 

Venues oozing pitchy beats
while skin and speakers overheat
Euphoric verse from local bands
as strangers hold each others' hands 

A blind spot found to consummate
that pent up vibe hormones equate
No safety sake and such like sins
watched over by store mannequins 

Alternate night life rarely sought, 
where armies ran and soldiers fought
Replaced by battles outside bars, 
the rush of rain and midnight cars

Homeward boundings of the younger
slaves to mashed heads and false hunger
Statue crowned with traffic cone
whose iron heart has turned to stone

Unmarked cop cars cruise along
preserving peace and drunken song
Until the city's whisper ends

preparing for its deepest cleanse

And in the morning, bang on six, 
the scars of late post-teenage kicks
are strewn like litter on the breeze 
contagious and desired disease

Noise and clutter reign again
business cards and fools campaign
In my town where familiar screams
till evening's bursting at the seams

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Ordinary (Kinda) New Years (1)

I actually lived life in the fast lane and remained downstairs after the bells went on Hogmanay, watching a film.  My youngest son rolled in unusually early at 1.40am.  He was totally rubbered and looked like he was walking with a third leg, so I thought it best to escort him to bed.  Not having tucked him in for nigh on 10 years, I found it touching that he wanted read a story and started reciting bits of his favourite book  'Don't Eat The Teacher'  that he bought at his very first book club at school aged five.

Our street was remarkably quiet once the fireworks  were over and I was ever so thankful  no open windows pounded out Runrig, Sydney Devine or Heedrum Hodrum stuff!  I slept for a very nice 10 hours, which ended with my face being licked and a cold nose under the covers from Hetfield, my older son's mad little rescue doggie, who seems to be a mix of Jack Russell and Chihuahua, with the personality of a tyrannosaurus rex.  We've never had a four-legged first foot before, so let's just see how the year pans out.  During the visit, I took him for a huge walk and left my son's and hubby to their yuletide blokes' time and the TV darts' final.


As with Christmas day,  I gave thought to our local water birds and took a huge bag of bakery and snack leftovers to their little pond for a feeding, only I rather innocently instigated a cracking swan fight just as I was throwing the food in.  A grown cygnet and his mum/dad were beaking and wing-flailing the shit out of each other which resulted in the other swans, ducks and coots getting the best of the food while the dispute went on. Hetfield by this point was going nuts at the commotion and managed to get stuck in the reeds as his runner lead took off full length.  So there I was screaming at a tiny dog, twisting and yanking at his lead in fear of him drowning or eaten as a few surrounding houses had people at their windows wondering what the Hell was going on!  So much for my quiet escape to the pond park!  And we got a soaking on the way home.

  Just as I was contemplating an early book and bed night, PrettyBoy's partner Carlene turned up, saying there was a fight at her parent's house over a steak pie, so she decided to leave them to it and stay over here!

On return from my second doggie walk -  that near saw a 'ikkle mouse in the jaws of death -  I was kinda relieved that the huge bottle of sparkling cherry-wine that PeaPod bought me in an attempt to get me 'mortal' had been near emptied.  There's nothing worse trying to force things down through politeness (ain't that right, hubby?)  The night led into escapades of doggie dancing, dart and balloon challenges, Amy Winehouse impersonations, ballpoint pen tattoos, drunken psychic readings (that were quite spooky at times) and chatting one-to-one up until 4am, where I found out that Carlene survives on only 3 to 4 hours sleep at a time!

I'm glad to see the old year out and I'm not too convinced the new one will be any better......the first letter I received today was a medical reminder that my bowel cancer kit will be winging it's way to me soon!!

I've survived the festivites by  indulging in the Sky Arts channels with Andre Rieu,
classic ballet performances and back to back episodes of (my guilty pleasure) Judge Judy.  My resolutions are easy enough. Just keep taking the tablets and deep breaths.......it's over now, honey!
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