Agony Aunt


Dear Aggie Aunt

When I visited my new boyfriend’s home, I found he has eyes in the back of the bed.He said it stops mice or other creatures from mating there but I have my doubts.What do you think? Is he dangerous?

Worried lady

Dear Worried
Whatever made you look at the back of his bed? Leave that till he proposes or he might make you hoover the entire room.And if he is is  so new why are you in his bed already?
I suggest that you have a semi-Platonic, more romantic relationship for now and should you eventually marry insist on moving into a brand new home with a new bed.
However, it does seem a bit odd.Where did you meet him?Are you ever subject to hallucinations? Maybe you need to break away before he has arms in the bed and a gun at your head…
Remember that, when older, many ladies are becoming gay these days.Think about it.Do you really prefer a man? How about a rabbit in bed instead plus some companions and friends in the day time.I do and I prefer it this way.Rabbits are easier than men but men do have some advantages if you find a decent one.Let me know!

Take care
Aggie Aunt

Stan in Neasden

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Mary woke up on Tuesday feeling dazed.She had been dreaming of Arnold,her student sweet and shy.
I wonder where he is now, she thought.Then she recalled he was  in fact a world famous cancer researcher.She hoped he had found a shy sweet partner>
Emile was yowling on the landing despite the large bowl of Superior Cat Food  he was standing next to by the bookshelf
I believe that people and animals like not just to eat,but to be fed,Mary  thought.Stan used to make the dinner but he always wanted her to serve.Emile would  eat his food after she stroked him.But who would stroke, Mary?This was a hard and topical  question because Mary had stopped eating.However, as she was quite large, she could live for a few weeks on water only.So she mused
Mary put on a pair of purple trousers and a  lomg lavender coloured top.She gazed into the mirror wondering why 3 hairdressers had failed to help her style   her fair hair.

Now,she recalled Arnold was a  Russian Jew by inheritance though he had lived in the USA all his life until taking up research into cancer at the ancient university Mary attended.If she had married Arnold she could have pretended to be religious,converted and then worn  a wig.
Annie came running upstairs.
Whatever are you doing,she yelled.It’s 11 oclock! Her make up was melting despite being Max Doctor’s All Day Creme Mousse
I was wondering if I could find a Jewish man who would marry me, purely legally, just so I could wear a wig.
What a  load of tripe,Annie retorted.No wonder you’ve had no breakfast.If the man was
religious he could not marry a lapsed Christian. Or an agnostic.
If  you want a wig just go online.
You have no imagination,Mary answered,I spend half my time wondering what would happen if I did A,B or C.And what I might wear
And then you do D,Annie joked merrily.Or X.
Where are you going in purple trousers,she continued.You should not wear them at your age.
Do purple trousers have a meaning,asked Mary.I got them in Windsmoor’s sale for £12.
I refrained from buying a jersey jumpsuit as it looked like a burkini and I am a bit nervous now of racists coming into the open.
Very sensible ,Annie told her.I bet the French are jealous because Muslim women and certain Jewish women don’t get skin cancer nearly as often as Christian or agnostic English women.Should we convert?
I don’t think they would like it if it were only to save ourselves from cancer,Mary mused.
True,said Annie,dully

Mary felt hot so they went into the kitchen and made some tea.Annie was wearing snakeskin pyjamas and black patent shoes.
Do you sleep in those pyjamas,Mary asked?
Oh,no.These are day pyjamas or leisure suits ,Annie smiled.They are comfy.You can get them in the market for £2.
Mary heard a strange noise.Stan ,her late spouse ,appeared in the kitchen carrying a big leather bag,
Hello,he grinned.I’ve just come to say I have bought a  detached  house in Ealing.
But you are dead,Mary whispered thoughtlessly
Yes,I am a ghost but I have bought the house via Dave.I paid cash.
Why Ealing,Mary asked suspiciously
I like  that song,Neasden and it’s quite  near on the North Circular.And Ealing is healing!
So that’s where you’ve been while I have been grieving,Mary said.On the North Circular  Road enjoying Willie Rushton’s songs as you drive
And besides, I want to re-marry and get a wig.
Well,you can get the wig,Stan told her handing her £4,000 in cash from his pocket.But don’t get married until I am in heaven
When will that be,the ladies asked.
Dunno,he cried.It’s such  fun in Purgatory where the ladies are naughty but not actually evil.
And so say all the men.Ah,men

Discover the International Institute of not doing very much



From the same site


Metaphor is used to make a comparison by explaining one thing in terms of another. This is a way of introducing a new concept in terms of something already existing. So don’t bring your bucket and spade to a sandpit for start-ups.

Metonymy is a change of name with an association of the same meaning. Churchill is using this device when he refers to his book as a monster. Hollywood refers to the movie industry. Washington means the government.

Synecdoche refers to something by the name of one of its parts. The pen is mightier than the sword. (But don’t insist on that when facing a swordsman.) The pen stands for the power of the written word, and the sword is military might.

Irony is used for comic effect by saying the opposite of what is meant.  Irony pokes fun at the status quo because values have shifted. It has elements of play, the stage seeking to emerge. Irony is a trigger for generating new meaning.

2012-10-29 20.10.27

When the sky turns black

An old poem but ,unfortunately ,apposite
When he went away,
He said,”Lehitraot,mama.”
Do vstrechi.
He died but I’m still here
Yes,in my heart I feel his love.
But why did I live,
And he did not?
Auf wiedersehen
Yes,darling,I’ll see you later,
When the sky turns black and all the stars blaze bright
I’ll see you shining in the night.
I’ll see you in my dreams alas.
Do vstrechi.
But why you and not me too?
I can’t understand.
A plus tard
Some where in this world,you fell
But no-one,not even God, can tell.
God was absent then or in some other place
He’s gone again.
They said He’s died too,
But He didn’t have a mother like you.
Do vstrechi.
My breasts ache and my heart and soul,
My breasts were made to make you whole.
To feed, give love and to console.
A plus tard
And now they ache with grief as my tears fall.
A bientot
My body trembles in the night
As dreams may bring my lost ones to my sight.
A plus
I’d walk across the roughest bleak terrain
If l I could find my loves and hold your hands again.
Do vstrechi.
The bell rings on the ancient clock
As time goes on as normal ,it doesn’t stop.
I wish the hands of time could be reversed,
And I was not living with this curse.
People forget that I once had a son.
They think my grieving has been done.
But grief and loss and pain will never end
Until the curtain of my death descends
Auf wiedersehen.
Meantime I look at flowers and birds and trees,
But it’s really you my deepening insight sees.
Th inscape of my heart is shown to few,
An artist of the lost would know this view.
I know I want to see just you.
Do vstrechi.
But for me there is no
Auf wiedersehen
Never again will you say
What you said that day
A plus tard
Tot ziens.
See you later
See you soon.
See you.

Smile at me

I miss the hand that used to hold  my hand
I miss the eyes that  used  to  comfort me
The needs of love don’t  feel like a demand
I miss the hand that  caressed  my  held hand
I miss your love  and miss you as a  friend.
When you gazed , your eyes lit what you’d see.
I miss the hand that used to warm  my hand
I miss the eyes that  used  to smile at me.

I miss your arms around me in the dark
I miss the early morning,  thoughts unspoke
On Purbeck Hills; the  Easter singing lark
I miss your arms around me in the park
Poole Harbour’s beauty is a living spark
Sharing silent glances as we walked
I miss your arms around me in the dark
I miss the mornings, though we   rarely spoke

Silent sharing ;  company in  love.
With strangers,  we must  manufacture talk.
To be silent ;the dome of sky above
To be silent ;  the  spaciousness of    love.
With strangers, how their talk can jolt and shove
I held your hand and stroked it when we walked
Silent   caring;  sympathy of  love.
Not strangers blindly   snatching in the dark.