Stan has a purple bath and Annie has an accident

  • Stan admired the gleaming purple bath.He was so thrilled by the performance of his microfibre cloth.Mary had gone to Bluewater Shopping Centre looking for a long cardigan to disguise her curves.Stanley rather liked them but she didn’t ask his opinions any more.
  • Out of the blue the doorbell rang.He flew downstairs and opened the door.”Can you take this parcel in for the lady next door?” The postman asked wearily.
    “Oh,fine Stan stuttered.He was trying to avoid Annie but here she was,coming down the road of superior semi detached houses suitable for ex-headmasters ,small businessmen,econometricians,surgeons,pie salesmen and  theologians.
    She was wearing perfume and green sandals from TK Maxx,light khaki tencel cropped combat trousers with a purple silky overblouse, not to mention her matching raspberry  and cream underwear .Round her neck hung a miniature grandfather clock on a solid gold chain,and she had three  imitation gold and silver watches on each  of her three wrists making a total of 333 watches according to Carnap’s theory of logic and Russell’s terrible handwriting.
    Stanley didn’t know that she had a mobile phone stuffed into her bra—one advantage for the larger sized woman.In fact she had 4 down there in her raspberry coloured glamour bra,as she had a phobia about their batteries running down all at once.So the more she had the lower the probability of her being without a phone whilst out and about the town and countryside.So she reasoned in her womanly  way.
    Just then one  phone rang.She rummaged around to the consternation  and turmoiluation of Stanley and the postman.She plucked out a pale blue phone.”Hi,it’s Annie” she murmured.”Hi Annie, it’s Dave the paramedic with  carpentry skills.You’ve not rung 999 lately so we were wondering if all was well!”
    “Oh,I’m terribly sorry.I’ll try to phone later on.Thanks,Petal.”
    “That was Dave,our ex-transvestite converted paramedic”,she informed the men.
    The postman galloped off on his donkey, his bags full of undelivered males.It’s a tough but interesting life in Knittingham.Would you like a male delivery?Contact Parcel Force without delay.
    Annie went into Stan’s house and demanded a cup of coffee.”Won’t it make you put weight on” Stan quipped ironically.”Do you think I’m too plump?” she responded anxiously..
    “Too plump for what?” he quipped amiably.
    “To attract men,of course!”
    “No,my angel,you are just perfect”he quacked definitively.
    “Nor are you an angel,strictly speaking,as I have good reason to know.Thank you,my beloved for services rendered so generously and freely.”
    “Oh,my goodness I must get home to render the fat from the beef and to make some gooseberry jam.” Stanley looked uneasy.
    “I wonder why babies are left under gooseberry bushes? The thorns are so big it’s quite dangerous getting them out,or so Mary told me when Lyra was born.”
    She was covered in scratches and wouldn’t come near me for months.”
    Why don’t you come upstairs to look at our new purple bathroom suite.Since the Royal Wedding it’s the in colour.The gold taps were expensive but they do go well.”
    “My God,let me out.” she bawled,”It reminds me of the Vatican and that’s no place for a lady”,”Not even a gay lady?” Stan muttered parsimoniously, as he licked her eyelashes gently.
    “Stop that.I’ve got my Yves St Laurent mascara on.” “I prefer the taste of the Chanel,”he disclosed privately in an internal  secret memo.[available in 50 years]
    “Why not lick my neck instead?” she enquired curiously as she tripped over Emile the cat, who had slipped into the bathroom as usual  to see what they were up to,as it were,you know what I mean,catch my drift?
    She fell floppily into the bath and banged her head on the taps.
    “Oh,gosh,better ring 999″ Stan said to Emile.”Have you got your catphone warehouse mobile on you?””Yes ,it’s in my y-fronts”, the cat amiably miaowed.
    “Hi Dave,this is Emile.Can you come quick.Annie is unconscious and what is worse,she has scratched the new bath.”

    In fact it was Emile who had scratched the bath that morning but since Stan had not noticed he hoped to, callously, pass the blame onto poor  Annie.How cruel can a cat be?  Ask any mouse! To be continued  when she comes round.
    And so lie all of us

The holier than thou vet

There once was a kind  vet of good name
who fluffed Emile’s fur with a comb.
when Stan tried to pay,
He waved him away.
He said,I’m soon going over to Rome.
Stan asked what had made him convert.
He gave him a very loud smirk.
I cannot say why,
But I hope when I die
I’ll be higher than those from the Kirk!
Stan never goes to church now
As far as Emile can tell.
He likes talking to sprites
During the night,
Emile likes to meet them as well.
Stan is much holier than the vet.
For he knows how pained human hearts get.
He prays under the trees
with dozens of bees.
so with God he goes Hi, tet-a- tete

Emile, the cat, writes in his diary

I had  a full day watching Stan hoover the bedroom. and re-hang the curtainsHe found 5 pence on the rug.
That makes 60 pence this week.He swore when he saw the duvet had slipped to one side of the bed.I jumped up and stood on it while he pulled it back into place;a bit of fun.I can’t help him much but I hope being watched pleases him.
He tried on Mary’s dressing gown and looked in the mirror.Then he swore again.I think her likes her clothes but that was not a nice sight.
She was out giving another lecture and running a seminar
on something called “Rings and Groups.” It sounds like a dance or a sacred rite.I’d love to go in her wicker basket to the University and listen to a lecture.I believe she’s very popular and is always pleased to prove that “e” is not an algebraic number.
Well,it’s obvious………even a cat knows it’s a letter!
Does she think it’s another more advanced kind of number? Beats me.
What with that and all the times she brings in pies…she has me wondering what mathematics is now.Why does it frighten people?
Cats like me love a nice meat pie and will run in rings or circles
mewing “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” for hours if we get some Earl Grey tea .
We are not into groups though except maybe groups of mice.
Now where’s my milk?I’m worn out writing my blog.
Still,I hope you know what “e” and “pie” are now!
Mioaw.
Next week:Imaginary numbers is her theme but  how will I know what she’s planning  to imagine?Can you plan to imagine?

Day,the origins

day (n.) Look up day at Dictionary.com
Old English dæg “day,” also “lifetime,” from Proto-Germanic *dagaz “day” (source also of Old Saxon, Middle Dutch, Dutch dag, Old Frisian dei, Old High German tag, German Tag, Old Norse dagr, Gothic dags), according to Watkins, from PIE *agh- (2) “a day” considered as a span of time. He adds that the Germanic initial d- is “of obscure origin.”

Not considered to be related to Latin dies (see diurnal), but rather to Sanskrit dah “to burn,” Lithuanian dagas “hot season,” Old Prussian dagis“summer.” Meaning originally, in English, “the daylight hours;” expanded to mean “the 24-hour period” in late Anglo-Saxon times. The day formerly began at sunset, hence Old English Wodnesniht was what we would call “Tuesday night.” Names of the weekdays were not regularly capitalized in English until 17c. Day off first recorded 1883; day-tripper first recorded 1897. The days in nowadays, etc. is a relic of the Old English and Middle English use of the adverbial genitive.

What is free verse?

 

 

1yqum52oyl9ai_lhttp://literarydevices.net/free-verse/

 

Example #4

Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall
She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,
And she is dying piece-meal
of a sort of emotional anemia.

And round about there is a rabble
Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.
They shall inherit the earth.

In her is the end of breeding.
Her boredom is exquisite and excessive…..
will commit that indiscretion.

(The Garden by Ezra Pound)

Unwashed Britain

P10003241 in 3  1 in 3 women in the UK go for 3 days without washing.
1 in 3 men in the uk go for 4 days without noticing.
Having a hot shower daily is bad for you.
A man in Canada who lives in the wilderness gets washed daily with a helmet full of hot water and a rag.He washes his hair with bicarbonate of soda.
Think of all the money we might save!
You dissolve the soda in a bowl of a hot water.Lean over and soak your hair
Then repeat
Then use plain water to rinse.
Maybe this might help my hair!
How about washing the cat’s feet?

Home’s our test

shelley-world-single1

Don’t unset the  settling heart

Don’t cosh your dirty sinners in public

Doubt is the beginning not the   mending  of wisdom

Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man stealthy not nice

Beasts can feast, but breast is best

East, west, home’s   our test

Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow  they spy

Empty vessels make the most poised

Enough is as good as a breast

Even a worm will  learn  some  geometry

Every   crowd has  some madmen fighting

Every frog wants to be gay

Every skittle  likes to boil.Every kettle wants to fall

I passed out

13432232_1200732916605866_1798758372170885557_n.jpg

Sister Anselum had a big cane
Which she believed to be good for the brain
All my year in her class
My mind was in trash
But I passed out,  so as not to explain.

Miss Maycroft showed me how to read maps
But said infants must still enjoy naps.
We had little beds
Where we all played dead.
Until the poor lady got into a flap.

The atlas impressed me with  its grace;
How the whole world was laid out in space
Such geometric progression
Enlivened the lessons.
And held my mind in sweet embrace

How naughty

IMG_0055

 Stan and Annie have been having such a lovely time since Mary went off.Stan has quite given up his addiction to microfibre cloths and polishing the windows.He and Annie can now make love at night and go out for trips in the day time.
Emile’s diary is getting quite full although he is worried he may be banned from sleeping on the foot of the bed soon as he may be in their way.How will he know what they get up to?
Luckily there is a gap at the bottom of the door so he should be able to see them in the mirror opposite the bed.They usually light the bedside lamp so as to see into each other’s eyes.
~Annie is a very bold,confident woman.Despite being rather plumper than is medically advised she loves her body and lives happily in it now she has true love.
One morning Stan goes down to make some tea whilst
Annie comes to.
“Stan,come here quickly!”
“What’s wrong,my little lamb chop?”
“I feel sick!”
“Was it those old sausages we ate up last night?”
“No,it’s a different sort of sick!”
“You don’t mean………..?”
“Yes,Stan,I’m afraid a miracle has happened!”
“But you are 55 and I’m 90.Surely we can’t have a baby!”
“Well,the ways of God are strange.” she murmured.
“I don’t want to bring God into it.” he riposted.
“Are you not pleased we are still fertile?” she asked
him humorously.
“Well,in the abstract I might be but in the concrete it
could be awkward.” he said furtively
“What do you mean?”
“Well,Mary will be coming back in a couple of months,you
know”
“We don’t have to tell her you are the father.I could
pretend it was the new Vicar at St Andrew’s”
“But he’s gay!”
“Not many men are able to resist my charms and skills.”
“I can believe that,”Stan answered lubriciously.
“But will you have to seduce him soon before he notices
you are pregnant>”
“I wasn’t thinking of actually going to bed with
him,”said Annie with a smile.
“Oh,dear.I was looking forward to that,”Emile murmured
under his breath.
“That would have made my diary into a best seller.”
“Gay vicar seduces middle aged harlot who is now
expecting.”
It sounds a bit like the old Bible stories except they
had no vicars in those days.But miracles like older
women bearing children did happen so…who knows?
Stan and Annie got dressed and went into the kitchen.
They were both looking confused.
“You don’t want an abortion do you?” he enquired
tenderly.
“No way.” she replied softly.
“I love you so much,I could not wish for more than to
bear your child.~”
“In that case,I’ll tell Mary.She is a very wise woman in
many ways,though a bit lacking in the earthier side of
life.She has not slept with me for thirty years or
more.”
“Perhaps she thought you were too old?” said Annie.
“No,she never enjoyed it.She just put up with it as she
wanted a baby.”
“Maybe you did not turn her on!”
“I did my best,but she preferred reading Proust and
Wittgenstein.”
“I wonder of she has Asperger’s syndrome?”
“Well,they do find social life trying but I suppose she
can’t blame you for loving another?”
“No,she’s very broadminded.I’ll suggest we all move in
together.I’ll divorce her but she can have the big
bedroom and we’ll have the guest room with the en
suite.”
“I think this will be fun.”
“Well,not all of it but it will be intriguing,”
“So no need to seduce the Vicar,then?”
“We’ll leave him out of it.He might fall in love with
you and then what would happen?”
“God only knows,”She answered humorously as she went
into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
Read more about these naughty people next week

How Mary invented Toad in the Hole


When Mary was  newly married, women were still expected to do all the cooking.
Oh,dear she sighed as she got off her sports bike and went onto the  house.
I am so exhausted but we can just have sausages tonight,she thought.
Stan was very fond of pancakes so to augment the simple meal she decided to make some batter in the liquidiser and  she even had some fresh lemons.
Emile was only a kitten but could speak a few words in English
What is for my dinner,he asked pensively.
Would you like some sausages,Mary asked him  thoughtfully.
OK, the cat said in a grumbling voice.I’d love  a kipper more though
Just like Stan.Stan had been out in a fishing boat from Whitby once.When they were up there he and Mary visited the smoking parlour where herrings where smoked with real smoke.I don’t believe it was provided by men smoking cigarettes though.It was from a fire.
Mary put  the sausages into a roasting tin and browned them under the grill.Then she put them down on the table to wait while she got the batter out of the liquidiser so she could wash  the goblet  before it got sticky.All of a  sudden Emile darted across the kitchen as he saw a  mouse in the corner.Mary was knocked off her balance and so the batter flew out of the goblet into the roasting tin.
What a disaster.Both courses of the meal ruined in one sweep.Mary almost cried.Until she realised the batter was sizzling in the dripping so she put the roasting tin into the oven on a medium heat…. and so it was a new dish was invented
When Stan arrived home he was attracted by the lovely smell.Not from Mary,no, from the oven.
What are you  cooking,darling, he cried.
Mary was embarrassed as she didn’t want to tell him how she fell over.Why it’s  new dish I have got from a very  new cookery book. that has not yet been published.
Stan thought that was rather odd but as he  hoped for some hanky panky later on he remained silent,a tactic I highly recommend
Mary cooked some sprouts and carried the food to the table which Stan had laid.
Delicious, he cried as he ate the hot batter.What’s for  pudding,dearest?
Mmmm, yoghurt, Mary  answered,or hot grilled spiced peaches with thin cream.
I know you like Jam Roly Poly or Spotted Dick but I’ve not had time to do that.We can have  one at the weekend.
I’ll just have an apple,he cried.Will you play, Eve?
And so play all of us.

Wind dismays the flowering rose

Apples hang low near the ground.
robins chirrup all around.
sun on glowing maple leaves
gives a red glow that deceives.

Autumn air is flowing near,
though it's still bright summer here.
wind dismays the flowering rose
as with arrogance it blows.

Leave me one flower for my eyes.
Leave me roses,as I sigh.
Leave me not my dearest one.
Soon enough we shall be gone.

What remains is love alone.
If your heart is not of stone,
Fear not sorrow,fear not woe.
Into this earth all must go.

Please call later

Please call back later.I am in the washing machine.
Please call back tomorrow as my deodorant has run out.
Please smile when you leave your message.
Please come round now.I need to change the duvet cover.
Please call later I am inside the duvet cover,
Please call later.I am covered in Tide with bleach.
Please do a video call to admire my new blonde hair.
Please call later .My boyfriend is here.
Please call next week.I am reading Little Dorrit
Please call an ambulance,my boyfriend  is pale and hungry.
If you have committed adultery don’t tell me!

What does naughty mean?

Definition of naughty in English:

naughty

Pronunciation: /ˈnɔːti/

ADJECTIVE (naughtier, naughtiest)

1(Especially of a child) badly behaved; disobedient:you’ve been a really naughty boy

2informal Mildly rude or indecent, typically because related to sex:naughty goings-on

3archaic Wicked.

Phrases

 

the naughty step

(also the naughty corner)British informal

A place where a child is sent after misbehaving in order to reflect on their actions:whenever I did something bad, my uncle would make me sit in the naughty corner

1.1A situation of public disgrace:the bosses of the unions found themselves on the naughty step

Derivatives

 

naughtily

Pronunciation: /ˈnɔːtɪli/

ADVERB

 

naughtiness

Pronunciation: /ˈnɔːtɪnəs/

NOUN

Origin

Late Middle English: from naught + -y1. The earliest recorded sense was ‘possessing nothing’; the sense ‘wicked’ also dates from late Middle English, and gave rise to the current senses.

Words that rhyme with naughty

forty, haughty, pianoforte, rorty, shorty, sortie, sporty, UB40, warty

More tolerant and less likely to retaliate

What I used to draw a lot were these three objects

If we hide what we fear it is bad for us,apparently.So does it follow we should reveal our secrets to the world? Or maybe to a friend…..I read an article by an American psychiatrist once ; when he worked in a big hospital  he asked each new patient.
Who did you annoy to get sent here?
Because many people have peculiar ways, but it depends on their environment whether  people tolerate them.Many people hear voices and there is  now a society for them.Most are  normal  and lead good lives.The fear that you are going mad makes  life very hard.So we should have societies for other people like maybe those who see ghosts.
When I was very young I can just remember how the chairs seemed alive to me and houses too,The windows were eyes and the door was a mouth.And on the wall was a big picture of the three bears.When I was about 5 I realised it was a bridge over a river with three sections.That was disappointing to my infant mind
I mention this, because, if we can remember how sometimes we saw something as quite different to how others would have seen them, it might make us more tolerant.And that would be good for all of us.
And if we know we have hurt others we may be less judgemental.
The main problem I feel is that like the lady who was shouting at me on Sunday  that often we have no idea we have hurt someone ; at the same time we  imagine people hurt us deliberately when they may just be tired or angry with their partner or child.
I think often we should bite our lip as it’s too easy to escalate a little problem into a war.
I read once  good phrases

Don’t retaliate

Don’t seek revenge

Horrific killing of Jo Cox

I am shocked but  not utterly surprised about this wonderful MP has been killed.People have been acting and talking very aggressively  about the  EU and our position.But as an older woman I just feel so sad that a younger woman has lost so much of her life for nothing.Except  that the shock  may make us all think.This man who has been arrested called “Britain First”.
Working class people have been  suffering during the unnecessary austerity programme which left the wealthy ok .And the white ones use a false patriotism sometimes believing it is all caused by “immigrants”
As a descendent of the Scandinavians who came over here some  hundreds of years back,I have to say we are all descended from immigrants or conquerors. My Irish ancestors came here after the potato famine and were very badly treated.But they didn’t complain.So like me you may be mixed in your ancestry…. an

The darkness

IMG_0038

Jo Cox,an MP since the election last year, was shot and killed  today by  a middle aged man in Yorkshire.I think it is connected to the EU and the referendum.
Did we think it would get this bad?Can we do anything?I would say improve care for mental health.We all know it gets much less money than physical health in the UK.And all the madness of this referendum is not a good thing.Meanwhile  I feel  very sad that someone so full of promise has gone from our country and from the world

The delivery

IMG_0006Please ring the doorbell before you kick the door.
Remember some people may be in the bathroom
I am really sorry you are so badly paid  because, apart from anything, else you are nicer than most people I meet.And even if you are not you deserve a living wage.
My neighbours may have given you my number but they’ve not  always told me.Nor asked me.
I can’t afford to keep repainting  the door  and please don’t break the window

Feminism and women’s clothes

P1000261
I have a friend whose husband forbade her to wear dresses and pretty clothes.And other women have said,trousers are better because they are more practical; you can climb over walls,play  games etc.
But the truth is that trousers are very difficult to wear unless you have a very slim body.If you don’t you have to search for long tunics.And trousers are not warmer either.I have been questioned about why I wear skirts though often I do wear jeans.It is women whop question me.And that in itself is interesting.And female hobbies like knitting where frowned upon  by feminists for years.It’s like we all have to be men.

Skirts flatter the fatter!
It’s easier to wee out of doors in a  skirt
Skirts are brighter or can be.I like that.
If you wear thick tights  that is warmer in the winter.
Your behind is private in skirts.
If your trouser zip breaks you are in big trouble.It happened to me when I was giving a lecture.The students were either blind or very courteous.Nobody showed any sign and this was amazing because they were red trousers but my underwear was not red.That was a deterrent!

Made by accident or serendipity

https://www.designweek.co.uk/issues/2-8-may-2016/freelance-state-of-mind-embracing-serrendipidy/ink fallsIs it our choice how we view an accident.I don’t mean a dangerous one but one like this where he knocks over the ink and realises he can use  the result?I think it’s very freeing to look at such things in this way.
Of course,were I still feeding my husband it would be a good excuse for a burned Toad in the Hole! [We don’t eat real toads in the UK.It is a dish of sausages cooked in batter like we use for pancakes or Yorkshire puddings]We have pork or beef sausages or even turkey.

Was the Romantic movement about romance?

http://www.britannica.com/art/English-literature/The-Romantic-period

The Sick Rose
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

“The most notable feature of the poetry of the time is the new role of individual thought and personal feeling. Where the main trend of 18th-century poetics had been to praise the general, to see the poet as a spokesman of society addressing a cultivated and homogeneous audience and having as his end the conveyance of “truth,” the Romantics found the source of poetry in the particular, unique experience. Blake’s marginal comment on Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Discourses  expresses the position with characteristic vehemence: “To Generalize is to be an Idiot. To Particularize is the alone Distinction of Merit.” The poet was seen as an individual distinguished from his fellows by the intensity of his perceptions, taking as his basic subject matter the workings of his own mind. Poetry was regarded as conveying its own truth; sincerity was the criterion by which it was to be judged.”

The Romantic poets

william-blake-2457413b.jpg

William Blake

https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/the-romantics

 

Keats was one of the best Romantic poets.He died at age 25 which is humbling.This poem is one many of us learned in school.

 

poet John Keats

Ode to autumn – Poem by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cell.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

 

 

No sight is like the rising of the sun

No sight is like the rising of sun
When promises of dreams seem  clear and still
My heart,though sore,can fancy  love has come
Without hard times and exercise of will.

No morning is without new dawn of hope
When all our conflicts shall be put aside.
Imagination is  far flung in scope,
Never  noting dreams may fraughtly lie.

No love is like my long lost love for you
Once known,once felt,it settles in the heart.
Yet I do believe love can be found anew
But only when the lost  love  can depart.

So bother me no more with reveried bliss.
Go leave me with my  life,though all’s amiss.

Grief

 

The fact that grief takes so long to resolve is not a sign of inadequacy, but betokens depth of soul.

Read more at: http://www.azquotes.com/author/18664-Donald_Woods_Winnicott

Lies of love

I wear my heart displayed upon my face.
Attentive readers find their meaning there..
Where feelings thought too deep to be embraced
Can shine demurely where they do not scare.

As Freud observed we're never quite disguised
Betrayal is our body's real motif
The message comes conspicuous from the eyes..
Bright sparkles or your tears of blackest grief.

The answer to a question seemly leaps
So Yes or No is visibly revealed.
The blush that spreads so fast across the cheeks
Both bold and shy unable to conceal.

Your face tells me you lied when Love you wrote.
Yet let us part with song as we are poets

Stan in denim

 

2014-01-02 10.12.15-2Stan woke up later than usual owing to the comfort of   sleeping in his  dear wife’s soft cotton nightgown.He had slept better than usual despite the police calling to question him about a nude woman found wandering in the town centre.
Women have better clothes than men,Emile, he remarked to the cat which was stretched out on  the Guardian.I don’t know why I buy that paper.You couls sleep on a bath towel.
After having a shower,Stan decided to take another look at Mary’s clothes.He found a  long denim skirt in indigo  which he fancied would match his new T shirt.
Of course I shall only wear while I do the housework he told Emile.After all in Scotland I could wear a kilt.Can you get a denim kilt he wondered.He decided to wear underpants but not to wear Mary’ssilk petticoat.She might get angry with him.
There is a certain logic in wearing a denim skirt as it  much cooler than trousers and allows easy movement.But of course one must wear decent underpants in case the wind blows under it and reveals all.That’s  why women are always buying packs of pants.So Stan was thinking. and he remembered his  old espadrilles which would look good.He stood in front  of the mirror and imagined he looked quite fetching.


The doorbell rang and on the step was the Vicar of Knittingham South.
Hello,madam, he said.
I’m a man,Stan muttered mournfully.
Yes,dear,of course you are.May I speak to your  husband?
I  am the husband,Stan screeched.
Oh,I see.You are gay then, I assume.
Stan pointed to his beard and said,I am a man. Didn’t you hear me?
Please forgive me, the Vicar said.Some old ladies get quite hairy and  with the skirt I thought it was rude to mention your beard.How do you find the skirt,by the way?
Well, it’s quite nice having air on the legs  and it’s definitely cooler than shorts.
But a cotton dress would be even better.Are you married?
Yes,said the Vicar but my wife is very intolerant of anything unusual.She’d be furious  if I wore her clothes.
My wife doesn’t know,Stan told him.I bet she’d be angry too because  she’d have to iron it again.
Why don’t you wash and iron it before she comes home, the Vicar demanded.
Well, just between the  two  of us I am afraid of  irons,telephones,and   making a mistake in a recipe.Also  eye tests and blue litmus paper and crisps
I’m afraid of dentists,fogs ,dogs and sausages the Vicar admitted.And doctors and fierce women.
The two men stood  pondering.
Come inside, said Stan after a few minutes.Let’s have a coffee.
They sat on the patio drinking  their coffee and saw a wren fly past into the weigelia.That’s the first I’ve seen recently.said Stan.
Emile was asleep in a woven wastepaper basket in the kitchen.
Anyway,why did you call,Stan asked the Vicar.We never got to that.
I can’t remember, the dear old man admitted.I’ll have to come back tonight.
Oh,dear Stan said
I think I’d better put some trousers on, he whispered
Yes,you had said Emile.I can see the Bishop outside.
And how play all of us?

Within each storm

When doubts and drawbacks struggle in the mind
And certainty seems but a demon dream,
When the faith to love is what no-one can find
For even when asleep, the mind still schemes

When darkness and defeat seem close at hand
And lights dim even as we pray for peace
when wrecks and ruins rile the native sands
When in this life we feel we've lost our place...

Then at the saddest depth we see the light
Surrounding with such warmth,with love adorned.
The path that seemed so wrong now leads us right
And in our hearts, warm feelings are new born

Within each storm there is a calm still eye
From there we see the fiercest clouds blown by

The habit of perfection

http://www.gerardmanleyhopkins.org/lectures_2003/flannery_oconnor.html

The Habit Of Perfection – Poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Elected Silence, sing to me
And beat upon my whorlèd ear,
Pipe me to pastures still and be
The music that I care to hear.

Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb:
It is the shut, the curfew sent
From there where all surrenders come
Which only makes you eloquent.

Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark
And find the uncreated light:
This ruck and reel which you remark
Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.

Palate, the hutch of tasty lust,
Desire not to be rinsed with wine:
The can must be so sweet, the crust
So fresh that come in fasts divine!

Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
Upon the stir and keep of pride,
What relish shall the censers send
Along the sanctuary side!

O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet
That want the yield of plushy sward,
But you shall walk the golden street
And you unhouse and house the Lord.

And, Poverty, be thou the bride
And now the marriage feast begun,
And lily-coloured clothes provide
Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.

 

Chance flavours the prepared mind

11257109-old-mosaic.jpg

She was cutting a slice of dread when the phone sang.
Hello,there,it’s  your  very own Bank here,said a young Irish man
Bat wank? she asked .
Yours,what do  you call it?
Surely you kould shnow if you fork there?
We don’t ,we just candle walls.We’re a Ball Benter,he shouted
I am just faking my munch.she whispered fearfully.Don’t sell at me.
Why fake it if you are alone?  he replied courteously
Alone but not begotten,she responded
Is English your fast language? he admired
Yes,I was born speaking Anglo-Taxon,she admitted
So you read Chaucer? he said wisely
I had to wait until I got a fear of spectacles,she admitted.
Do babies ever have an eye vest here? he said softly
No,so it’s a  big industrial   open lunacy,she revealed
We could start a business,he told her scientifically
I’ve never even let you,she murmured  shyly
Will you harry me, he asked.
I’m sorry but Catholics can’t marry folk they’ve never ett.she dragged out
We could eat sprouts tomorrow ,he suggested welcomingly
Not now, we only foil them in the Winter,she said cheekily
Well,don’t  be a flick  in the should,he advised.
Why bid you phone,anyway? she enquired
I just got the rung number, he acquitted
Do you mean  I rung you before? she basked
No,it’s a secret wonder here,he re-wheeled
I could have bit on you by chance ,she calculated
Chance flavours the prepared  mind,he recalled Pascal writing
Do stop obfuscating.she  ordered sweetly
I don’t even know what that means, he misinformed her
Well,you can envy  before you spurn the word.she told him tenderly
I don’t want to envy,he spoke morally
Speak boor yourself,she  muttered
I don’t live in Sarf Effrica,he told   her
But you have that accent.I   recognised it at dunce,she said childishly
Whereas yours is  broad Larkshire? he guessed as he diced.
Mine is educated,she said kindly.Anyway my dread is waiting for me.
Oh,throw it out,he advised.I’ll buy you an eel.
But where are you,she said woefully.
I’m in  the bath,he choked out.
Is it not dangerous to phone  from the bath,she wanted to know
Only if you put water in,he said sensibly
So you fish with no water? Vety economical, she said admiringly
I come here to escape the boys,he finally admitted
What boys?  she pointedly enquired
Can’t you leer it?
Oh,row away.I am waiting for the dread to roast and the beans to bake.So,see your tune.
On the moon, he called before getting out of the tin  bath and making the cat’s dinner

Her Eyes were Limpet Pools

Very amusing

kathryningrid's avatarArt-Colored Glasses

Am I reading the poetic maunderings of a youth regarding a romantic soul-searching staring match with his sweetheart–or is there somewhere a glorious spa for mollusks about which I ought to know? One little slip of spelling or pronunciation leaves me wavering in the dark. Which might be good, or might be bad–it’s all in the application of the moment. For lo, there can be such beauty and delight in Malapropisms and Spoonerisms and all manner of other happy tortures imposed on language. These joys are often best savored like a very dry aperitif by those intrepid souls fortunate enough to discover them, for the most frequent perpetrators of unintentional linguistic crimes rarely know the difference even if the error of their ways is pointed out to them by any well-meaning pedagogue or tiresome pedant.

P&I drawing

Whoever chanced upon the bag of “Mescaline Salad” before sharing its portrait online must have…

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