Month: April 2016

A woman reveals all

I was looking for the Sole Gate,not a soul mate.
I want a new friend but they thought I said end
I wanted bread and butter,not to marry a nutter.
I asked for a cup of tea,not for where to pee.
I asked for some chips,not to be whipped.
I asked for directions not for an inspection.
I want  a new lover,not  men to hover
I want to be free,not to go out to sea.
I was looking at bras,not watching sports cars.
I am ironing my frock not  standing in the dock
I bought a new clock but they thought I said flock.

So now I am a shepherdess

Every great man

  • Behind every great man there’s a great woe
  • Behind  his eight balls?
  • Behind   the rhymes
  • Being led down the hardened path,
  • Bell, Book and Wrangle
  • The hell of the ball gave me schizophrenia.Still I can spell
  • Bills and  bristles ruined our marriage.So shave now and phone the bank
  • Below The Belt is the Belly
  • Below The Salt is the table
  • Belt and Braces… is he nervous?
  • He felt up then down.Then up.
  • To bend over backwards  is too much to expect of the older person
  • Blend Rover? He’s a St Bernard!
  • Best laid plans of lice aid wrens..News Flash
  • Best sing since device read,crooned the meter reader
  • Set it all?
  • Bait the yarn and catch a rat
  • Bet your bottom hollow
  • Better carve than chew
  • Better fate than  endeavour
  • Better Ralph than Terry

Soul mate?

Noetic,poetic
Neurotic,exotic
Rheumatic,ecstatic
Myopic,beatific
Unusually bright
Sometimes a delight.
Introverted,intuitive
Quizzical,communicative
Tastefully dressed
Artistically blessed.
Beautiful eyes
Never tells lies.
If I suit your needs
Write please but don’t tease
And don’t be alarmed
I usually come armed.

 

Noetic in verse

I like to write verses poetic
Without being over noetic
So I’ve cancelled the Times
And  practised rude rhymes
But sometimes my mind will not get it.

Am I too philosophic for  you?
Do you write any limericks too?
With practise comes ease
And  rhythms that please.
And it helps me when I’m feeling blue

To be born before we die

 

 

5352445_f248Most people die before they are fully born. Creativeness means to be born before one dies.
Erich Fromm

I gaze up through red maple leaves

 In summer time when sun do shine
I'm happy on my own

I gaze up through red maple leaves

All transparent in the sun.

 

But when winter comes I'm lonely

Sitting here beside my fire.

So I want a winter lover

To keep my spirits higher.

 

Oh,my winter love come to me

And I'll gaze deep into your eyes

The light that shines in there

Is so much warmer than my fire.

 

We'll go through wintry woodlands,

Where elegance lies bare.

The branches warmed by sun

Now feel the frosty grasp of air.

 

I'll love you all the winter time.

I'll love you in the dark.

I'd like to rest within your arms,

And have a peaceful talk

 

When summer comes I'll disappear

To roam across the dales

I'll sleep on heather moorlands

And send you loving mail.

 

I can't be tied in summer-time

I must be roaming free.

But ,if you accept this  need of mine,

To you I'll faithful be.

 

The important moments

You might think you would
Recognise the important moments
Of your life,that you made choices
That determined your future as well
As your present.You never imagined
One unprotected scarcely thought about
Sexual act could determine the course
Of your entire life.That one small,to you,
Act of unfaithfullness would precipitate
Divorce,death,agony for ever.
That smiling at someone on a stairway
Could make them fall into unrequited
Love.Surely these moments should have labels,
Capital letters,trumpets blaring.
It’s like undoing just one stitch in a seam
Will make the entire garment fall apart.
Other people’s suicide,accident.love
Hit you like bricks.And you fall down
Like a bombed house in Dresden
Full of refugees.Those you meant to care for,
Who are now long past redemption.
And which moment it is will be quite indeterminate
Until it happens and life is changed for ever.
The river sweeps on,but on a new bed.
Was it meant to be like this?
Someone stole my bike and then I met
My husband.I went out with a lover
And met another on the corner,
Alloa,Alloa,that’s Swedish!
Alloa,Alloa,this is it.Alloa.Remember

How median,how average?

 

 

 

Stan was just about to begin his talk on “Averages” when a   clap of thunder  frightened the old folk who were listening to him, while eating their first  slices of marmalade cake which his dear wife Mary had baked and iced with orange icing
That was loud,cried Minnie  Muddle from the next street.I hate thunder.Her white face did look very pale especially as she used to use Blusher in Pale Orange.However she couldn’t afford it  any more
I like it,Stan remarked,but Emile  is nervous.And there was Emile inside the big wicker waste paper basket with his amber eyes gleaming anxiously and his tongue licking his dry lips.
Well,said Stan,the word “average” has different meanings in different  situations.
In ordinary language it usually means typical. However in  statistics  which analayses data it is used as a way of describing the “centre”  or” center”of the data.
There is more than one way of- doing this.
If we are asked the average wage in the UK and told it is £26,500 what does it mean?
Does it mean nearly every body gets that?
Well.I don’t called, his neighbour,John as he re-arranged his tartan kilt over his knobbly grey knees.
This is based on people in work,Stan replied kindly.
It is called the median which is that figure such that 50% get less than this and 50% get more.I can’t recall where the folk who get exactly that are placed.So 50% of people in work get less than £26,500.Some on the lowest wages get only about £11,000. and even less if they are part-time or on zero hour contracts.
And of course  we know bankers and rock-stars get millions some years.So it’s not  telling us much about the spread or range of wages.How far they differ or deviate.We can measure that but it is based on the mean wage.We get that by adding up all the wages and dividing by the number of workers.
The mean is usually higher as it is pulled up the the million pound earners.In London wages are higher

5271657_f248

Example:

GLA Household Income Estimates

 July 30, 2015

By

In July 2015, the GLA published an update to the Household Income estimates. This data covers a range of geographies from Lower Super Output Areas (LSOAs) to UK regions. The full dataset can be downloaded from the London Datastore.

The median household income for London in 2013/13 was £39,100, while the mean income was £51,770.

5230546_f248That’s enough for one day,Stan,whispered Annie.She was looking very glamorous in her red knit dress and purple tights which matched her eyeshadow – she had  got  that in Harrods.It was called.Purple Princess.The only problem was it was hard to remove and the matching cleanser cost £40.As she was on only a quarter of the  median income in the UK she could not afford it so she had to keep wearing this colour regardless…. unless perchance she did some shop-lifting which is, of course ,a crime.As Annie had killed her own husband and got away with it,no doubt stealing Eye Make Up Remover was pretty low on her list of sins or crimes.
Some crimes are sins  but some are not.such as stealing food for your baby if you can’t afford to buy it.However eyes shadow is not essential to life even for a woman like Annie.
Stan boiled the big kettle and made the tea while Annie cut up the  remaining marmalade cake and passed it round. to all the merry pensioners staring at the Blackboard somewhat tentatively.
What about pensions,asked John plaintively.What is the average there?
I think we’ll wait for a few days before we  tackle that or you can google it and see what you find.The State Pension is about £6,600 per annum but many people also have a pension from their jobs too.That is really important if you can get it.
I don’t know how people live on the State Pension, Minnie cried.I suppose they eat tripe and oxtail and such things.Or steal from the waste bins of their neighbours.
What exactly is tripe? her friend Joan enquires tactfully;her blue eyes full of tears..
I think it’s the lining from the cow’s stomach or intestines,Annie cried.
No wonder people go to McDonald’s.It might be a cheap cut  but we don’t know.
Annie jumped up to turn on  the  fan heater and knocked over Stan who was sitting by her.He fell  over and his chair broke in half.
That chair must have been listening to your talk,chortled John swinging his kilt humorously.Fortunately he was wearing some green underpants and a half slip in silk beige.
Ring  999.Stan called.We need help from Dave.Emile was very pleased because he preferred chatting to Dave to listening to Stan’s lectures.As does the average person in the UK,so I guess.

P1000308
Fortify me with tea

A heart like a cold stone

Have you ever had a dream,
That you were all alone?
Have you lived with someone handsome,
With a heart like a cold stone?
Have you drowned in deep,cold rivers,
And been lost in shadowed caves?
Have you lived with too much fusion,
Till you drowned in ghostly waves?
The waves run down the sea shore,
Then up they come once more.
The tide turns and life alters..
Deep on that ocean floor.
You were so beautiful and silent,
Like a sword without its sheath.
I should have let you take me,
The way you took away my breath

Stan,Annie and the meringues

 

England

Stan and Annie were clearing a big desk to make space to study government

statistics.Despite this Annie was dressed as brightly as a mad

peacock on l s d. in turquoise cotton trousers and a teal blue

viscose and polyester [with 5 percent elastane  V necked striped top

She chose the V neck was because she thought it made her look

slimmer but if that were so it was contradicted, somewhat

paradoxically, by the clinging induced by the elastane in the

fabric.What a problem dressing is nowadays she murmured

Her bedtime reading was “Contradiction, Paradox,Woman and Society” by the

 unknown,unseen yet internationally  infamous author Dr K. R. Braithstripe. Paradox and

contradiction are the route to understanding” was the last sentence she had read before

she fell asleep last night

Then she had dreamed she saw a mouse eating a lion.No wonder she had indigestion

today

“Shall I make the coffee” she said to Stan.

“No,dear.I’ll do it if you can get the graph paper sorted.”

Stan stood up and walked across the room with a dazed expression. on his well  lined face

“I hope he’s not been trying self hypnosis again” she thought

quixotically.He returned with two large mugs of steaming hot

coffee.”Would you like a meringue” he enquired.

“I’d love one.”

“So would I,” he answered glumly.”But we have no cake at all.”

“I blame Tony Benn.”

“Why him?”

“Well,I have to blame someone,don’t I?”

“Why not blame yourself”

Stan began to sob and moan.

So Annie rang 999.”Can you send a paramedic.My friend needs a

meringue.” she said in a friendly tone.

“What do you think the N.H.S. is ,a cake shop?” the receptionist

replied assertively in ringing tones.

“Well,we older folk need cakes!”Annie cried.

“How old are you,” the lady said.

“Why is there some cut off point?” Annie retorted……..

“Yes,we only supply meringues to centenarians!” she was told.

“Well really,whatever next,” Annie cried in shock as she picked up the Kleenex box

“I suppose they have to economise now and can no longer supply cakes

and ale to pensioners like they used to do.”

But we could send you some toasted mouse sandwiches,” she was

told.”Don’t bother,” she cried  with nervous rage

The heat had made her makeup run and small rivers of turqouise,black

and blue were crossing her face giving it the appearance of a large

bruise.She wished she had followed the advice her mother had given

her,”When in doubt,leave it out”Or,was it “when in doubt,say nowt”

or even “when glum ,keep mum

“I would have kept Mum,”she thought resentfully, “but the law won’t

let you once they die”.

“Why do we have so little freedom here in England?” she asked Stan querulously.

“I can’t tell you” he croaked mysteriously

“Why not?

It’s forbidden by the Official Secrets Act.”

“After we finish the statistics on unemployment and mental health we could look

into Official Secrets,” he promised her mellifluously.

“Stan, you are so good.” she shouted gratefully.

Will you wash my new jeans?” he asked.

“Why can’t you do it?” she fretfully quizzed him

“I don’t want Mary to see them.”

“Gosh it’s 5pm .She’ll be back soon.”We’ve not got far today,

I expect we can make up for it tomorrow.”

Not wanting to contradict him she remained silent whilst he studied

her face like an a psychologist trying and failing to see meaning in an ink blot.

Then the doorbell rang.It was Dave,the  trans bisexual paramedic with a tray of mouse

sandwiches.What a  delightful surprise that must have been.

Can’t I fake a flance?

4690125_f248
In case you hate the story.. look at the image

You are too prissy,Mary,Stan told his  boring wife.Everybody uses four letter words know except you.
What is so special about four letters,she replied mathematically.
I can’t say ,said Stan.
Is it because they are expletives s have to sound like bullets being fired.For example
“F*ck off, you old shi* bag”
Sounds different from
“Kindly go away,old thing.”
That is true,said her 98 year old husband,
So why do you want me to swear?
Well,now you have a tablet computer and a chromebook you need an iphone and you need to talk like the young do as well.
iphones are very expensive and you know me,I’m cr*p at finding where I leave the f*cking things.
Now,Mary,control yourself.I am your husband
What the h*ll has that got to do w*th it.
You should be nice.
So whom do you wish me to swear at?
I’m not sure.Maybe when you sing in the kitchen you could alter the words of the songs..
As I waltzed out to f*ck at 8 pm
The lambs were coming  back to see the ram
Something wrong with the meter here methinks,said Stan.
And somehow,swearing does not seem to blend with your personality and gentle quiet nature,Mary,darling.
Cut the cr*p.It’s too late now. I’ve become addicted.
But how many four letter words are there? I might find it limiting.
Some four letter words are not swearing
like
tame,kind,wind,fluff,hair,lips,nips,twit
but some are like
f*ck,sh*t,cr*p,twat.
So twit is ok but twat is not,the demure old lady replied.Anyway don’t you know any more?
D*mn!
Perhaps we’ll have to buy a book and learn some new ones but to whom shall we say them
Would your mistress,Meldickadivsa know?
Well,I can ask her.
But is it sensible?
If women want equal rights it’s not the same as being compelled to use words that only workmen used to use.
It’s like saying we can’t have public conveniences for women;they will have to use the gents!
What will they use the gents for, he of them queried.
For sensual gratification and relieving tension.
Is it legal?
Anything is legal as long as you don’t pay!
That reminds me of Russell’s Paradox.
Oh,my God,don’t say you are on to Russell!
It’s more like he is on to me.
Whatever do you mean,Stan said.
He is trying to invade my mind.
Well,make it password protected!!
How do I do that?
Go online and find out.
Perhaps we can password protect your tongue to stop you saying all those words like twat!
But I don’t want to stop.
In that case you must invent some more or they get boring you see.
Flaff off you crum!
Eff doff you runt!
Don’t you leak to he like trat
Why egger nuts?
Clean your org(n i* the m*wnin.
What is so runny about swap?
Goody bell,the vicar is beer!
Lie down and he won’t bee us on the door!
It’s very dirty down here.
Get the vacuum out!
The vacuum is clean,it’s the carpet that’s full of nap!
I blame you,
For what?
Basting my rhymes in wine.
Well,it’s time for wee now.
Go and but the skittle on the stove.
By George,I feel terry funicular!
I’ll put some neatener in your tee.
I’ll come here again!
Stop that askance!
Can’t I rake a glance?
Show you can pot?
Pot what?
The wee pot.
You are very mod!
Blank you so crutch.
Puck off,it’s time for twerk.
Oh,my dear!
It’s being so near.
what makes ’em leer

Fleas on their knees

  • Beat the blushes,wear  toothpaste on your face
  • Speak the writhing playlets and give us a treasure.
  • Beat The crap;don’t purloin it
  • She used to beat the sheets then him.Then he churned the fables on her
  • Meeting a a dead horse on soul-mates stopped her reading the Guardian
  • She seats fleas  on her knees
  • Beauty is a fading honour
  • Beauty is in the thigh of the beholder,
  • Beauty is  awry in the beholder,
  • Beauty is only thin,not deep,
  • She has tea   hearing sonnets
  • Beef about?It’s dead cattle
  • Beelzebub has  devils in the sideboard,
  • Been there, fun,  what?
  • His bees had fleas.It’s a disease.To please.

What?

Where eagles dare to tread
This is the blend of the beginning
The scare to end all scares
The Crackle of Britain
Bomb the Dresden China
Where have all the towers gone?
We will find them in the churches.
We will fly them off the cliffs
He was in  Herma’s for months.
The wizards of war camp was empty.
God had fled.
With the angles.
Solid geometry:my table.
The Queen is  an Emollient

Floating emoters

 

IMG_0006 (2)

National Wealth Service.
Floating Quotas
Life’s a Crime.
In your own Line
Newsrapers.
Telederision.
Imputers.
Medea.
Paying Fine.
Inland Cleverer than You.
Wealth Fax
Tax the Pure.
Smart yawns.
Democrassy.
The Right to Float.
Usury Rates.
Counsel Tact.
Tablets  Moan.
Lapmops here.
Keep it Spleen

Noetic?

 IMG_0034

Word of the Day : April 22, 2016

noetic

play

adjective noh-ET-ik
PrevNext

Definition

: of, relating to, or based on the intellect

Examples

In addition to her chemistry courses, Elena took electives in philosophy and the classics to satisfy her thirst for noetic stimulation.

“But the new emphasis on curiosity as a noetic virtue adds a note of transcendence to the portrait of the ideal thinker.” — John J. Conley, America: The National Catholic Review, 1 Feb. 2016

Learn a new word every day. Delivered to your inbox!

Did You Know?

Noetic derives from the Greek adjective noētikos, meaning “intellectual,” from the verb noein(“to think”) and ultimately from the noun nous, meaning “mind.” (Nous also gave English the word paranoia by joining with a prefix meaning “faulty” or “abnormal.”) Noetic is related tonoesis, a rare noun that turns up in the field of philosophy and refers to the action of perceiving or thinking. The most notable use of noetic might be in the name of the Institute of Noetic Sciences, a research organization based in California that is devoted to studies of consciousness and the mind.

Emile weeps

IMG_0007 (1)
Stan was sweeping the garden path.He had a stiff broom with a small head that was useful for cleaning the edges of the steps.Emile, his beautiful cat was sitting in the old apple tree gazing down on Stan.
“Is it time for coffee yet,”Stan asked himself.He had forgotten to put on his watch.
Suddenly he heard a shriek.He peered through a hole in the fence.His neighbour Annie was lying on her back in some mud.
“Hang on,I’ll come round!” he called.
There was a gate in the old fence which was rarely locked
since Annie loved to drop in on Stan.
“Oh,Annie,how are you feeling?” he asked her anxiously.
“Bloody annoyed.I’ve only just bought these,”Not your daughter’s jeans” and now I’ve torn them,” she replied politely.
“But you don’t have a daughter!” he informed her loudly.
“I know that.It’s just they are better cut for the mature figure.”
“Your figure is not mature.You are quite slender.my dear,” he murmured lovingly.
“Well,I never feel happy with it!” she said mutinously.
“Whereas I am very happy feeling it,” he responded romantically.
Tears came into her green eyes lined with purple eye shadow.Alas,it was not waterproof and purple rivulets ran down her cheeks across the peach blusher with which she had valiantly decorated herself earlier.
“Can you get up?” he asked tenderly.
“Yes, but it would be nice if you picked me up.”
He leaned over her and licked the purple streams of tears off her cheeks.
“I hope it’s not poisonous,” she murmured.
Then with the aid of Emile,he lifted her to her feet and helped her into her large trendy kitchen.
The kettle switched itself on as they entered and a robotic voice asked if they’d like coffee.
“God in heaven,what the hell is that?” he cried confusedly.
“It’s my new computerised hot drink maker.After that fall I think a double espresso would be good.”
Emile ran in and asked for coffee too.
“Emile,you usually have milk,”Stan reminded him softly.
“Well,coffee is a new taste for me but I like a little.”
the cat whispered sweetly.
“I’ll give you some of mine in a saucer,” Stan replied.
Emile began to sob.
“Why Emile,whatever is wrong?”
“I want a cup and saucer just like you” the cat howled.
But you have no hands,Emile,” Stan reminded him.
The poor cat was crying loudly now.So Stan rang 999.
“Can you please send the emergency ambulance round.the cat’s crying and all his hankies are in the wash.”#
Soon Dave,the transvestite paramedic appeared.
“I love your light teal  and cream kitchen,” he informed Annie,
“And your eyes look like two deep pools in a coal mine.”
She slapped his cheek naughtily.
“Have a look at Emile” she ordered him sweetly.
He turned to the cat who was sitting on the dark pine table.
“Here,Emile,I got you some Kleenex for Cats in Sainsburys.” he said gaily.
“I want a real hanky,”cried Emile.Dave took a clean hanky from his own pocket and dried the cats tears.
“What made you cry.Are you feeling bad.”
“Yes,I want to go to Cafe Nero,” Emile mioawed.
“Who told you about that?”
“Another cat down the road has been and he said it’s lovely for people watching.”
“The town is not safe for cats like you,Emile.”
Dave urbanely replied,
“But when summer come I’ll take you to the out of town
Marks and Spencers.They have a cat’s coffee corner upstairs.”
“Wow,isn’t it amazing,”Stan wondered out loud.
So Dave poured out the coffee and they all sat down and
discussed Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein.
Ray has discovered that Wittgenstein liked cats but as he moved around quite a bit,he never owned his own though Elizabeth Anscombe let him play with her three cats now and then.
We may all be different but most of us value the love of a good cat.Even boiling their hankies and ironing them is very nice.We all have this problem though.
Where can a cat carry his own hanky?
Do cats need shoulder bags?
What would Wittgenstein say?

Well,not a  lot because his mind was on initially mathematics and logic and later on games like Scrabble,Dabble and Monotony.
(When he was dying he said
It’s been a wonderful life even though he was often suicidal .Two or three of his brothers did kill themselves as the father was over-dominating.And they were sensitive.)

Why do babies laugh?

  • Why not dress beautifully?sari
  •  I caught the baby’s blues.Two for one.I took those yellow pills and the baby got them in my milk.As did my husband
  • I sought the baby soother.What, a dummy?
  • Why does my baby have humour?
    Why do babies laugh?she asked him
  • Baby  rather likes me to sing psalms
  •  A black breaker ran up the beach.And I ran off the beach
  • I feel a lack from the dead.I want to see them and hear them.O come all ye wraithful
  • Back handed torment is still painful even if not intended
  • Back gloomier than ever,she  cut her head off with a carving knife thinking she could live without her brain.However it was a fantasy.
  • Back or yield,he urged me.So I succumbed and he enjoyed me
  • Back to  the queer ones.What harm have they ever done?They don’t leave women with a baby and run away
  • Back to the pawing mode.Men  love a good handful and so  do I.Two  in fact

A paradox about difficulty

Cat free
I was thinking about meditation and about difficult times in life.Often when things are hard for us, we get stressed,we get the”fight or flight” response which released adrenalin   and other hormones and we get narrower vision [I have actually had “tunnel vision“,it’s not a metaphor].We are ready to attack somebody or to quickly run away.Usually neither is possible so this response makes life worse.We get worn to a shred
When we need help,we can get in touch with something within us.The paradox is that we need to be relaxed to get in touch with this inner deeper self.We need to trust in something despite the dangers.In religious terms,trust in God is a common phrase.But not many Christians  I have known really do trust in God.I prefer to call it  the Unknown.After all,what or who was it that made the sperm and egg unite and then made the embryo grow into you?It was not by will power and effort that your mother grew you.It was by allowing this inner wisdom to act upon the embryo.So relaxing ,allowing,being are needed.How can we let go and trust in the inner deep self to help us?Maybe when we are in despair because we tried everything else and nothing works.This is a concern I am dwelling on today.I feel it is appropriate in sad times  to think of what some would call the spiritual side of lifeI was helped once when in a tragic  situation.I kept looking for a way out.Sitting quietly one day I found I suddenly knew I could do nothing except return to my normal duties and accept the tragedy.We need to feel safe in order to trust

We learned rigour and icy vision

What was so wrong about asking
About your absence from this world
And trying to grab you back
holding onto your coat tail?

Eternity’s long enough already
We don’t need your vapour trails.
Was it a wicked thing to do
As you floated so far and frail,
To reach out to touch you once more
I admit I never knew you kept score.
When I beat you at chess so long ago
Were you already packing bags
to throw out the door?
I knew it was the real thing
But some men never do.
You have your expectations
And your tests and rules
But we never learned those
In our higher math  crack schools.
We learned rigour and icy vision
We learned definition and precision.
But what use are they in loving
I didn’t know how to steer with inqisition
You were off anyhow.
The orchestra stoped playing
When they saw the gap.
You can’t fly forever
But I do be leaving you.
In the circumstances
What else does a woman like me do?
You can smile and squeeze your eyes tight
Suck in those cheeks and hide your love.
What’s coming after you’s an eagle or a crow
Not a dove…it’s black I know.
When you toss it all away then
Seems like it’s long past time
and emotion to call it a day.
Come again…..you must be crazy
Love is clear to me  now like the face of a new born daisy

Our Phoneme is ok

Our new baby’s called Phoneme

Why?

We were on the phone when she was conceived

What sort of phone?

A gramophone.

It must have been big

It wasn’t that big but the record  was!

What was it?

The National Anthem

You mean you bought a record of God Save the Queen?

No,it was Jerusalem

That’s not even in the UK!

Well,you could have fooled me.

 

phoneme
ˈfəʊniːm/

noun

PHONETICS
noun: phoneme; plural noun: phonemes
  1. any of the perceptually distinct units of sound in a specified language that distinguish one word from another, for example p, b, d, and t in the English words pad, pat, bad, and bat.
Origin
late 19th century: from French phonème, from Greek phōnēma ‘sound, speech’, from phōnein ‘speak’.

Try the dictionary

The only phone my mother allowed in our house was a homophone

I suppose she didn’t need a megaphone  and gramophones had not been invented?
Well,  they had but you had  to have records.She never kept those owing to her good memory.
Where did you say you came from?
I didn’t.
You must come from somewhere
I remember,Alston.
You mean in Cumbria?
In my time it was Cumberland.We were all backward as it was too cold to go to school
So you descended via Teesdale?
We preferred Penrith
I know you love pens
Not hen pens!
What would Freud say about those?
Cock a doodle doo.

I say,have you ever had a  nervous breakdown?

Not yet,but if it’s free I shall try it.

Alternatively try reading the Oxford Dictionary.

Scientific?

 

Read more at: http://www.azquotes.com/author/18982-Mary_Midgley

 

Which is right?

A homophone is a phone which only talks to other phones of the same make.

A homophone is a phone for gays;it won’t work if you are miserable

A homophone is a word that sounds the same as  another  word.

A homophone is as mis-spelling of a home phone.

A homophone is a Greek word which intellectuals use to irritate the other folk on Britain

An Omo-phone is a phone that got washed in Omo,the world famed detergent and may be clean but not working any more.

An Omo foam is what you get in the bath when you put detergent in with you so you can wash your clothes and yourself.

The future is fiction

Stan was looking out of his bay window at the old rowan tree. in front of their semi detached house in a quiet  tree lined avenue in Knittingham.After some intense sunshine in August,its leaves had withered and he thought it might be dead.He had his microfibre cloth but was not even pretending to clean the window…. one of his duties in the homeHe was thinking pensively because  his wife Mary had told him he ought to be wearing an antiperspirant when they had a row the night before.
“But I’m 105,” he cried.”Surely,I don’t need an antiperspirant  now?”
“Don’t exaggerate,”Mary replied,”You are only 75.Do you  need Cognitive Age  Truth  Therapy as well”
“But do I smell nasty,” he asked her…ignoring the  faint hint he was exaggerating pathologically about his age.
“Well,it says in the Telegraph that all the Top People now wear deodorants.”
“Good grief, what made you read the Telegraph,that right wing apology for a newspaper?And I should say the  present government certainly need  strong deodorants.I have a good wash every day and a bath once in a blue moon…I am clean enough for my mistress!”Annie his mistress lived right next door to the surprise of all who thought they  knew them well.
“Well,I am taking you to Boot’s tomorrow to find one”
“How dare you order me about  like this.Even if I wanted to wear a deodorant I wouldn’t tolerate being  spoken to like that.~I am a man and I smell the same as always ;why don’t you buy me a new sponge and some decent soap in Sainsburys instead of this lavender rubbish.”
Mary began to sob quietly
“What’s wrong,my little jacket potato.” he asked her gently in the rough  language of  the North British.
“Well,maybe it’s my therapy…I have been recollecting memories of girls teasing me because we had only a tin bath in our house and no bathroom.It was cold going to the lavatory down the backyard as well,especially when I got dysmenorrhea………….otherwise known as period pains, when I might be there half an hour.
So I guess I thought I might smell nasty.I am reliving the pain and anguish and as a defense I am projecting my fear onto you,That’s maybe why I was so rude to you.”
“Eeh,by gum,she’s swallowed the Dictionary of Psychoanalysis not to mention the Encarta  too”thought Emile their smiling tom cat.
“Well,you do smell.Like honey.You smell just the way I like a woman to smell…Natural”
“How would you describe it,my onion pie?”
“Like a cat on heat ,my honeybum” he answered tenderly yet manfully.
“But surely you have never had intercourse with a cat?” she queried nervously yet longingly.
“No,not sexual intercourse, but I have slept with many lady cats and I know  well their varying smells,their mews and their claws.”
“Just like me” whispered Emile,” and I like how women smell too.I like perfume..especially Poison and Chanel N r5″
“So I shall  come to Boots with you and I shall buy you some perfume.Then we can have coffee and cake somewhere for a real treat.” Stan told Mary assertively.She kissed his fair white cheek.. now a little red from the sun,
“I like coffee and cake,”purred Emile,”And I want a deodorant and some cologne. and a few other things”
“I think I could put you in my It bag “,said Mary kindly….which would be a pleasant change for Emile.They often left him alone in the house though he could drop into Annie’s at any time…and watch her tidying her make up box out or having a bath with lots of foam.Emile adored her,
So soon they will be on their way into town in their best clothes.Will Emile sit on a chair or will he stand on Stan’s knee.Wait patiently…. he might break his saucer.

The future is fiction

Is Stan bored?

.

 


Stan was feeling so puzzled.He stood in his front room staring at the  handsome rowan tree outside.
Do ants fall in love,he asked himself.
Are swans the most beautiful birds? Shall I send Annie a card tomorrow? Should I send Mary one as well?
He went outside and watched the ants running up and down the tree trunk.They seem to work so hard but they never get bored.
But is that true? We have no way of knowing.At last Stan has found a question with no answer
.Is boredom a unique quality of humans?
If that were so we ought to have a Patron Saint of Boredom though not of Bores.
Why are some people so boring?
Luckily Annie had seen Stan and rushed out in a teal coloured all wool outfit
made more weird by having butterfly motifs scattered on it at random.
“Why have you got those butterflies on your clothes ?” he asked her in a kindly  way.
“It’s to cover up the moth holes.”She pertly replied.
“You must have a lot of moths.Do moths fall in love?do they get bored?”
“You seem in a funny mood today,”Annie murmured.
“Why don’t we go out for coffee?”
“I’ve just made a pot full.Please join me.”
“Thank you,” she cried wildly.
They sat down in the kitchen where Emile was sitting by the window.
“Good morning,Emile.”Annie shouted.
“No need to shout,” Emile miaowed politely.”I’m not deaf”.
“I am sorry, Emile.” she responded furtively,”I am over-excited.It’s my period being due,I think”
“Why is that? Stan demanded like an untrained philosopher.
“Well,I’ve already had ten Valentines though that is not connected to menstruation
“Already.You must have done it fast!” he teased her gently.
“No,you idiot.I mean cards.
“You must be popular”
“Some look like women’s writing.”
“Let me see,”he asked swiftly.
To his surprise, one was in the handwriting of his wife Mary.
“Are you bisexual?” he asked her wonderingly.
“No,I’m just annissexual,” she repliied saucily.
“What does that mean?”
“Well,it’s just one letter away from “Anti-sexual.”
“That’s a relief.You are not anti yet,then.”
“Not yet”,she whispered coyly.
“Would you make love to a woman?”
“Only if she made love to me.”
Mmmmmmmmmmmm
.Apparently seeing lesbian movies turns men on.do you watch them?”
“Not bloody likely,I want to get turned off.”
“That could be boring,”she said sweetly as she combed his eyebrows with an old toothbrush.
“Well,I could do the polishing better and get the house sorted out.Fill the freezer with casseroles and defrost the oven.
Yes,though would that be so rewarding as loving another human?
“I guess not” he answered slavishly.
“Shall we go to your place and have a cuddle.
OK
Emile was very put out as he liked to see people kissing but he had grown very philosophical over the years and at least he could get on with his book,
“Wittgenstein’s cat.”He switched on the netbook and began to type:
“Not everyone knows how important cats were in philosophy.But now we can reveal all.The saying,
“Of that which we cannot speak we must miaow”
was inspired by Daisy,Wittgenstein;s favourite cat.
And

,”Of that which we cannot purr we must yowl.” was inspired by Ludo, a fine male cat that lived with Wittgenstein in Ireland.
So as Emile types,we must tiptoe away to order Ray Monks’ great book.The Duty of Genius! which is a biography of Wittgenstein and explainds his ideas very well
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A long review of Conversations with Emmanuel Levinas

This is really good.Not just a short book review but a discussion ranging quite widely of all Levinas‘s era and his Judaism.

It makes me think how  much we can take our life for granted when we consider all the tragedies in the world.I read yesterday that men are never confident of their masculinity and thus war is inevitable just as scapegoats have been needed to carry  the  evil of us who cannot face our own evil…
Are humans able to change?What is the role of women in all of this?Photo1151

 

I am  mulling it over whilst heavy rain falls down and leaves fly off the trees

 

Answer machine

I can’t answer the phone.Or perhaps it won’t answer me?
Leave a message after the moan
Please write instead
Please send me a cheque to pay the bill then I’ll answer the phone.
Hello,please leave a message after you put the phone down.
Please go away.I am debating the meaning of life.
I don’t know how to take the messages so ring me on Sunday after 11 am.My lover will be here.
If you feel suicidal don’t leave a message here. Samaritans 116123 UK
If I don’t answer ring 999.
It’s too late to speak.