Residents must inform the staff in advance if they are getting an infectious disease.

Similarly if you get diarrhea please tell us 24 hours before if you won’t need dinner.

There is always a choice of food

Tuna sandwiches

Tuna pie

Tuna on toast.

Apple tart or sweet

Apple crumble.

Crocodile eyes on flat bread.

Crucified crocodile tongue

Er we .,…..erred

Tadpole junket

Tadpole stew

Frog’s legs in batter

Apple in batter

Tuna in batter on hot lettuce leaf


Wrapped in your smile,I saw the golden light
As if a hidden world our love revealed
Our spirits touched, our sorrows pushed to flight

In that space, our anguish did not bite
The trees were shelter, losses were each healed
Wrapped in your holy smile,I saw the light

Do you learn there is a second sight
From heart and soul , the golden bells shall peal
Where spirits touch ,where sorrows quickly fly

And who but you would see my inner plight
Would know the false from what is right and real
Wrapped in your smile,I felt warm golden light

No army with its metal and its might
Can win the final war , love conquers steel
As spirits touch ,as sorrows say goodbye

I know it’s hard to learn what others feel
And not draw back from grief, from loss revealed
Wrapped in your holy smile ,O golden light
Our spirits touch, our eyes weep their delight

The Russian wolf 2020

I sense a feel of panic in the air

As if the Ark is not quite waterproof

I wonder if we’d welcome Tony Blair and

To the poor this life was never fair

But now it seems unreal, is it a spoof?

I sense a piece of Putin in the air

I am looking in the mirror at my hair

It looks like Boris Johnson’s but more louche

I wonder if we’d dye old Tony Blair’s

He’s happy Britain’s weakened with fake truth

I feel a sense of monsters much too near,

Putin won his Trump with that strange hair

The Russian wolf is licking his rich fur

Now it’s cyber warfare on the hoof

Will he soon take Leave from Tony Blair?

The Russians in Crimea are still there

The Ukraine weeps because we did not care

I sense a feel of Russia in the air

I wonder if they’ll fragment us and tear

Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite | Year Posted 2020

Annie falls over in the mud

  • 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 neighbor 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 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 computerized 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 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 Sainsbury’s.” 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 Spencer’s.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 cat
    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 Wittgenstei

Life is a patterned weave

    Some days are sad and blue

    And then we feel lonely too;

    Or we cause rifts.

    Some days are doldrum days.

    Some days are like bad plays.

    Not such a gift.

    Most days have joyful parts.

    Most days we lift our hearts.

    They pass all too swift.

    Some days love speaks to me.

    Some days I feel so free.

    I love my craft.

    Life is a patterned weave.

    Love helps us when we grieve.

    Love is a raft.

    See how the sun comes back.

    See how light fills the gaps..

    Some days we laugh.

    Weep now and I’ll weep with you.

    I have known sorrow too.

    Yet sorrow will pass.

    Joy is not far away.

    Joy will return one day….

    Life’s  art and craft.