Day: Dec 12, 2014

A gorgon manque

I used to be one of the Gorgons

Till I converted in Rome.

I go to Mass every morning

Then I come back to my ancient  home

I used to be one of the Gorgons

I turned all men into stone.

When they stare at me I am tempted,

But my old power seems to have gone.

I was recreated as a robot,

To frighten the Republican men.

But though I looked steel on the outside

I an no longer an Amazon.

I used to be one of the Sirens,

But now I whistle and sing.

I ride about in an ambulance

To comfort the patients they bring.

I used to be a real beauty

Men would chase after me

But now I’m turning autumnal

They mistake me instead for a tree.

Oscar cat

When Oscar sits on the windowsill

And sees someone within,

His mouth opens wide in soundless cry,

He gives us his cat grin.

Oscar rubs around my legs

He’s such a friendly soul.

He then rolls round upon his back

And waves his long striped tail.

But after Oscar’s greetings done,

He’s off to do his rounds.

He sets off from the white door

To the long thin gardens end.

Every inch of soil and seed

Is subject to his nose.

The garden looks one way to us,

But he can see much more.

I wish that Oscar cat could talk

And tell us what he’s found.

Ten thousand spider’s weaving webs,

A slow worm on the ground.

A million ants climb up the rowan,

I sometimes watch them too.

I see the striped wasps and honey bees

In this small natural zoo.

The hedgehogs sweet have long been gone,

but we have diverse birds.

Oscar sits on my tall stool.

He watches them for hours.

Be correct or be a lover

MusingA man who fond of lemons is
Cares not how he gives a kiss.
‘T is a proof that he would rather
Have a lemon than a lover.
A child who never was embraced
Will not marry in much haste.
It’s a hint that she would, maybe
Be afraid to have a baby.A heart which mean with kindness is,
Will rarely feel true friendship’s bliss.
‘T is a proof that some would rather
Be correct than be a lover.

Cat therapy

Emile’s pyscho-analyst

As the new day dawned,Peter Fried.. that infamous psychoanalyst woke up
to find himself in the washing machine yet again.He unwound himself
and crawled out.On the table was a note.
Dear Peter,
I washed up..hope you had a good night in the washing machine.Speak to you soon…Best wishes,Susan.

He moaned loudly at the prospect.Perhaps staying in Hampstead would have been better but he felt an obligation to spread his new therapeutic methods to the less civilized parts of Britain… such as Knittingham.But he had already met the most peculiar people who had caught him on their pan and would soon be eating him for dinner.
He looked out at the street… but there peeering into the window was Emile.
For,God’s sake Emile… why are you back here,he whispered.
I’d like to finish off your curry,Peter.
How kind of you.. please come in.
When Emile came in he jumped onto the couch.
You can’t eat it there,Emile,Peter said politely.
Well.. the truth is..I think I need therapy.Is it very expensive for cats.
I don’t recall anyone having treated a cat before.
This could make you famous,Peter.
Well,why do you think you need therapy?
I am suffering from a severe case of unfulfilled love.
You have problems with your lady cat friend?
No, no… the problem is I am in love with Susan.I dream of her every night.
And what are you doing in the dream?
What would you be doing,Peter..
I’m afraid the analyst must not reveal themselves,the cunning man responded.
And my second and more serious problem is that I am afraid I may be bisexual…I love you now as well as her.
Is there any hope that i can return from neurosis to just the normal unhappiness of life?
Well, for a start I’d stop reading Freud..And let me ask Stan whether he is willing to pay for therapy.
Is it very expensive?
I let you use my washing machine free but he must pay for the soap powder.
What, are you going to give me washing machine therapy.
Well,it may be the best for you as the mud you lick from your fur
may be affecting your brain.
Any other type of therapy?
Well, we might try Mindfulness or Meta-cognitive therapy.
That sounds very complicated.
Well,apart from that,you can keep busy and avoid coming near me or Susan…it’s the simplest though maybe the hardest cure.
Suddenly Peter woke up.. he was in bed still wearing his suit…
Oh,no!It’s happened again…. he’s addicted to his new washing machine….so does he need more analysis?

See the next episode live on Virgin TV tomorrow night..details late arriving

Never put elastoplast over a surgical wound

When I had my nose op I had to take off the dressing in 48 hours.Then my glasses were hurting me so I decided to put an elastoplast over my nose which did help.

But later on I had to get if off.. it took me an hour and was very painful..1412708681320.1p15photo8888

unnamed2

Flu season

p15

This is all I can do today..!

Sometimes a woman wishes she did be a man
so she might lie drowsing in bed
while the dishes pile up
and lay unwashed
the laundry basket overflows
the cat eats the meat for dinner
and the mice dance on the table just for fun

I guess there’s some reason why women can’t rest.
A wolf might appear and snatch a child
A man might lose his temper
smack the baby,kick the cat
Cos a man gets angry waiting
don’t believe his woman’s sick..
Think she’s manipulative when she cries in pain.
And kicks her when she’s dead.
Plenty more women,like buses,
another one will soon be along.

But do you really envy a man
when they have to fight and kill
Earn a living in a coal mine,doing night shift for 20 years.?
It’s not what God intended.but it seems it’s here to stay.
I don’t know if I’ll even live for one more day..

Emile and the hospital story

  • When the aged,wrinkled yet lively old man Stan and his immodestly shy, wildly pretty,blue eyed and brilliant wife Mary arrived at their local “hospital” in an ambulance Stan was carried into the Resuscitation Room and was lying down on a trolley…… which is like a bed with wheels.How did I get here? he asked God, who was on a shelf,impetuously.None of the staff answered.http://youtu.be/EIjTBC9pAxEA nurse came in and gave him some oxygen but no-one washed his face and hands…the nurse said they were overworked that day with all the usual drunken English folk falling off buses or off pavements or arguing and hitting each other with beer bottles,
    After another four hours a doctor came and looked at the weary old fellow.
    I think I’ll order a CAT scan for your head. he muttered nervously,as if talking to a spirit.
    Oh,My cat,Emile, is not here,Stan informed him.
    Shall I get my mistress to fetch him?
    You have a mistress as well as a wife,he asked curiously.
    Yes I do,You should get one,Stan said.
    They are useful when the wife is at work.And it’s a very honourable position for a widow who is bored.
    I think that’s immoral,when your wife is earning all your crusts,said the doctor cruelly in a very sarcastic tone..his eyes shining with demonic glee.
    I don’t mind,said Mary cheerfully.After all,it gives him exercise and stimulation.And I can do my research peacefully.I have always thought the French had the right idea about love
    You can say that again,said Stan!
    The French had the right idea about love!
    How about Revolution?
    I don’t think we could handle a Revolution,said the doctor in a kindly voice,his mouth drooping slightly with fatigue.After Stan had his CAT scan they had to wait patiently for two hours for the result….the scan had to be emailed to a Consultant elsewhere,that is… at home by the TV
    The CAT scan area was shut except for emergencies and had an eerie emptiness which contrasted oddly with the crowded noisy Casualty Department.Two men od different colours were arguing loudly in the Scan area.
    Mary knocked on the door and told them off,much to the delight of the porter.
    Later Mary phoned Anne,her neighbour and begged her to bring Emile her cat to the hospital in a large zipped bag… with a breathing space.
    Anne arrived after only ten minutes or so.. loking colourful
    Emile put his head out of the unzipped top and said,
    What a strange smell this room has.. is it TCP?
    Stan was very glad to see Emile. Anne went out and got Mary a spinach and mouse sandwich and some tea.She helped Mary to keep Stan comfortable with glasses of water,bottles to pee into,tissues to mop up the blood from his hands and face…no doubt this is well known to many of you.Several doctors too many came in…separately.One told them Stan had fractured the bone under his right eye.
    Don’t blow your nose,Stan.Your eye might come out…

    Wow,they don’t soften the blow,do they said Anne,her face pink with the over heated air of the
    A and E ward
    How far out would it come? enquired Mary scientifically
    her pointed face creased with worry.But none of the staff answered
    Mary advised Stan gently,
    Just blot the end of your nose,honey,if it runs.You’ll be alright with me here.
    Though his eye looked very peculiar

    Another doctor came in after six hours and informed old Stan he had confusions in his brain.
    See a psychiatrist,Stan told him rudely.Why tell me?
    Emile hid his head inside the bag.

    I am going to ring a neurosurgeon,don’t go home till I get back,he ordered Mary bossily
    Another doctor told them Stan should see an opthalmologist….
    Mary began to feel sick…and the first doctor never came back.
    Perhaps he’s fallen into a black hole,said Anne foolishly as she reapplied her orange lipstick and powdered her ample bosom and cleavage.
    Stan mewed musically to tease Emile.Emile purred as loud as possible…he enjoyed purring very much.
    At midnight the staff nurse advised the women to go home as Mary would have to be admitted to the Cardiac Unit if she stayed much longer….. her face was as white as a goat’s belly…is that wight?
    They went off in a minicab but left Emile under the trolley on a small shelf from where he chatted to Stan and operated a recording device… to spy on the staff
    Stan grew more and more tired,lying all alone…pity they don’t have a lying in nurse nowadays!
    Why,I feel as if I am in prison, he told Emile…I want to go home and go to my own bed…
    Me too,said Emile…I have a new girlfriend called Jenny,he went on.
    I look forward to meeting her, said Stan..and he fell into a dream where he was surrounded by lovely female nurses in pale pink uniforms all smiling at him……..if only it were true.
    Can you dream whilst awake?
    Yes, all life is but a dream..and I’m a butterfly.
    And I see I am in some photographs