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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~ Scrap That Idea ~

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

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☼ 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!




***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***☼***

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 blessèd 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!

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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! "

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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!'




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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

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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!
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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!



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Dust To A Widow

I'm not too happy with this attempt - bit of a struggle this week for me.  I'll probably edit it later but thanks for reading anyhow!

Promises linger and sing room to room 
the heart of a lover that's taken too soon
Echos of yesterdays bring down their plans
erased by a reason she can't understand 

Heart pounds with anger,  teardrops that burn
his ring on her finger and life in an urn
A carry on promise she may have to break
as guilt reconsiders its choice to forsake

Then the sun sneaks inside using multiple rays
dancing around in irregular ways
His voice whispers find me she feels him around
particular particles - sight with no sound

Inhaling strongly, then closing eyes tight
comforted vision as day turns to night
An all around piece of him left in the flat
no other feet wiped on their coir welcome mat


Gently she carries him down to the sea
keeping the promise of what was to be
Back home all the windows are opened up wide
and soon there's no need for the the widow to hide

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Another Vine Day At The Surgery (April)

 Weekly antics at my daughter's Dental Surgery......remember to click a corner for volume.

This Week:    Hair-raising mayhem:

"Never ask your work colleagues to do your hair.........!

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