Friday, 19 September 2014

Walk report

Same time, same route but never the same twice.
Today there was no sign of the tall, thin, elderly couple
with the two Bedlington Terriers.
Neither, I am glad to say, were there any remains of
dead toads still in evidence - nature's undertakers
had taken care of that although there was a
fresh little squirrel corpse laying patiently at the
roadside awaiting the arrival of the night shift beetles.
 
Such bounty - sign of a hard winter to come?
 
I spoke briefly with two ladies being towed along by exuberant mongrels,
the ponies were taking advantage of some late
lush grass and the Doberman slumbered on blissfully as always
on his bench in the sun.
He doesn't need to mount guard, just one look is enough
to deter all but the most faint-hearted.  Besides,
the old spaniel slumbering next to him will soon tip him the
wink if anything seems amiss and in need of his attention.
 
 
But the highlight of my amble undoubtedly has to be a close
encounter with a little Westie puppy who, on this momentous day
for Scotland of which he was totally oblivious, rolled
over for a tummy tickle and then proceeded
to gnaw at my newly varnished toes.
Cheeky little sod, men have died for less!


I don't know about you .....

..... but does anyone else find the current vogue
for exhibiting words of wisdom on FaceBook,
office walls, greetings cards and even,
occasionally, in the loo a little strange?
The only acceptable occasion, of course, is when
they appear on a sampler.

American sampler, Rhode Island 1785

Let's have a look at a few of these edifying
little homilies and perhaps you'll understand
what I'm getting at.

 
Take this one for example,
 
 
Now the way I read this situation is that the
best this poor guy can do is kiss his arse goodbye.

 
Well meaning words I don't deny but what if ......
 
 
..... you were to take them literally,
like the driver of this vehicle obviously did,
and there was no immediate left turn.
Are you beginning to get my drift?
 
 
This one is an absolute classic ......
(although look before you leap would have been more apt)
 
 
 
OK Theodore, what do you suggest?
And if you say "hang on in there" I'm going to kill you
if I ever get down from here.
 
 
How about this one?
I found it under the section marked "love",
 
 
My advice in this situation is be careful what you wish for.
 
I will leave you to ponder on this,
 
THE MEASURE OF SUCCESS IS HOW WE COPE
WITH DISAPPOINTMENT.
 
signed Julia Line, the most successful woman on the planet
- no, make that the universe (I've had a lot of practice).
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Wednesday, 17 September 2014

I'm a little worried as .....

... I seem, of late, to have been in the grips of a lace obsession.
  You may even have noticed it yourselves
from the topics or one or two recent posts.
 
My inspiration for Bagatelle
It can mean only one thing - I am going soft in my old age.
I am in touch with my feminine side and this troubles me.
 
Edwardian lace
What has happened to the feisty Julia de Long Dog
well known for her love of leather and coarse woollen homespun.
Could it be my remaining, solitary hormone deciding to
have one last fling before it's too late?
 
Do you ever wake up feeling a bit "ruff" in the mornings?
Heaven forbid, am I likely to start wearing facepowder
and combing my hair on a daily basis.
These are troubling admissions for me to make but lace is indeed
very beautiful, extremely girly and utterly irresistable.
 
Darling lace thingey
Will you all excuse me for a moment all may not be lost after all.
A simple colour change was all that was necessary!
 
"Jake, take those off immediately"
 
Beauty is in the eye of the (be)holder
"and don't let me ever catch you wearing my knickers again!"

Monday, 15 September 2014

Bufo Bufo - The Common Toad

Don't bother to ask how my walk went today because
I'm going to tell you anyway -  horrendous.
It was like finding myself trapped in a corner of
Hieronymus Bosch's painting The Garden of Earthly Delights!
 
 
As a child I grew up with stories from Kenneth Grahame's
The Wind in the Willows and avidly followed the
adventures of Ratty, Mole, Badger and, of course my favourite
character, Mr Toad.  I love these warty, misshapen creatures and have
even shared my living room with a few when my children were young
and insisted upon bringing them indoors for further observation.
 

 
Back swiftly to my constitutional before everyone becomes
totally confused by my many tangents.
 
I had already found a 5p piece, a couple of conkers
and a small heart-shaped stone by the time I turned into
Mill Lane but I certainly wasn't prepared for the scene
of utter carnage that I was about to find there!



Toads at certain times of the year gather together in groups called
"knots" or "jubilees" and I think perhaps a recent
sudden downpour had disturbed them.

In any event they had certainly taken to the road where they
had been mown down, very recently, in their dozens by passing motorists.
A couple I found were badly injured and barely alive so with the
aid of a stout stick I found in the hedgerow I helped them on
to their last reward.



I then promptly threw up rather noisily in full view of some nearby workmen
and decided to call it a day - bloody Monday!

I shall not be having toad in the hole for my supper
tonight (or indeed for some considerable time to come).
Anyone fancy a muffin - don't even go there Camilla
my sense of humour has temporarily left me
along with my lunch!
 
 


The Lace Bomber of Warsaw

Polish artist NeSpoon is fighting a one woman
war against urban decline.
 
 
Underpasses, empty buildings, pavements,
sewer grates - nothing deters the lace bomber.
 
 
She prefers to think of her work as
"illegal city decor" and goes about Warsaw
spreading her magic on anything
ugly that offends her eye.
 
 
No job too big for this feisty lady.
 
 
Every grotty building that she passes by,
She doesn't worry, she doesn't cry,
 
Another of her specialities - Public Jewelery
She just spreads her kind of happiness
As she goes by,
 
 
 


Saturday, 13 September 2014

Maybe it's because they're all Londoners ......

If there's one thing guaranteed to get all you ladies going,
and a couple of sailor friends too,
it's when I write a post that includeas a fit bloke or two.
In fact I've even had a few requests which, alas,
could get me into a whole load of trouble if I complied.
 
 
So today I'm going to sing the praises of Cockney men,
the best blokes in the world, and where better to start than
the best known of them all - Michael Caine,
born 1933 in Rotherhithe.
 
 
Next up good old Terence Stamp, born 1938 in Stepney.
They don't come more Cockney than that and you certainly
wouldn't go turning him out of bed on a cold day.
Or even a warm one come to that!
 
 
David's surname may be Essex but he's definately from the Smoke.
Plaistow to be precise in 1947.
That was a good vintage (same year as me).
 
 
There's something for everyone on this blog and so if you
prefer a younger model you couldn't do any better than
little Danny Dyer born in Canning Town, 1977.
 
 
However do not be fooled by this impostor.
Dick Van Dyke born in 1925 in West Plains, Missouri
may have passed himself off as a chirpy Cockney sparrow
in Mary Poppins but you've only got to hear his
accent to know something's not quite pukka.
 
 
The London tube map
 
And for those of you not in the least bit bothered by a bit
of rough or smooth here's a boring Cockney cross stitch
to keep everyone happy.  Ertcha!
 
 
 
 


Friday, 12 September 2014

Brief encounter

Today has been one of those rare and beautiful autumn
days when it's neither too hot nor too cold,
there's no breeze worth mentioning and all
the leaves are starting to turn to gold.
 
They are just so beautiful.
 
 
And so I took myself off for a mooch around
the lanes as I have been doing of late to see
what was what in the fields round about and
I certainly wasn't disappointed.
 
Much like the lane where I was standing.
 
 
I had been standing quietly for some time watching
an extra large dragon fly circling the meadow
presumably in search of something to eat
when it seemed to, what I can only describe as,
sense my presence.
 
It circled me several times getting ever closer
with each circuit and when I moved off it
flew alongside me a few feet away for quite some
distance.  It was then that the little voice
in my head said "Put out your hand"
and to my utter surprise and delight it landed
right there in my palm.
 
Sadly not the actual event as I wasn't carrying my camera and
anyway it would have been very difficult to take a photo with
one of these in my hand.
 
 
Spooky of what?
All the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end
and if it hadn't been for the arrival of a
big and very noisy tractor I would probably still
be standing there now utterly spellbound.