Their names changed frequently

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Art by Katherine [ from photo of my leg with a bleeding insect bite]

Jim Brown was in his new conservatory admiring the windows he had just

polished.His 82nd birthday was coming up in a few days

Marie,his stunningly attractive yet irritable,nasty and over educated

wife,a leading authority on Wittgenstein and most likely suffering from

Asperger’s syndrome into the bargain,….oh a cliche prone author too—!

had made a huge whole orange cake and planned a large gathering of friends to

celebrate his survival for so long whilst married to her,not easy sheknows.

He heard a sharp tapping on the door.

There lay Lucy   their next door neighbour   spying through the keyhole.

“Are you on your own?” she queried tersely yet rudely.

“No, yet I’m suffering from chronic existential anxiety” Bill lied politely.

“Well,I just saw Martina on her second hand Raleigh bike going to the

market or the Charity Shop or possibly leaving home for ever….”

“Well,I still have the cat here”,he whispered loudly as if he were free

associating in a dream

“Let me in and make me some coffee” she asked courteously,

“She’s an odd one” the cat Emile thought naughtily.

“Where’s my Carnation cat milk?”

“Real or instant?” Simon answered suavely yet naturally.

“Won’t it wash off your brand new coral lipstick from Chanel of Paris?…

not to mention your factor 60 sunblock.”

“God’s whiskers” she murmured quaintly to herself.

“How does he know it’s Chanel?

Is he a spy or what?

Is he in M.I.5?”

John got some instant coffee and debated whether to put in a little LSD to

add some visions to their morning!

No,a short breathing exercise would do he concluded after 9 minutes of obsessive

anxiety.

He sat down in his favorite old wooden Habitat chair having poured the

coffee into some old plastic mugs.

“Did you know Habitat is going b..b bankrupt?” she brightly stuttered

turning pink with happiness and the menopause which so far had lasted over 30 years.

Suddenly Lucy sat down on Bert’s lap and began to kiss his right eyelid

“Careful, my darling!” he muttered insensibly.

He was savouring the annoyingly uncommon pleasure when the chair fell to pieces as it

frequently did at such times, throwing the elderly but

versatile and experienced couple down onto the new Mary Quant patterned pure New

Zealand lambswool carpet.Suddenly they heard the peal of Mary’sbicycle bell.Shortly she

walked into the room carrying 78 bags of groceries for the birthday party.

“What’s going on here ?” she murmured seductively in a piercing shriek.

“I’m so sorry, Jenny, please accept my apologies, he has this thing about

chairs.It’s a fetish ,I  believe,   according to Sinald Floyd.””

“Have you got your mobile?” shrieked Tom agonisedly in a  loud whisper.

”I can’t get up.” he screamed softly.”Am I dead?”

“What cannot stand up must forever remain lying down”

As my old philosophy tutor at Cambridge used to say, muttered Marty.

“Why, that’s  bit extreme,” said Jane uneasily yet gallantly.

.”MY tutor said “Who cannot speak must forever remain silent.”

“Oh,who was your tutor?”

“Elizabeth Ansconbe!” Amy admitted furtively.”She knew Wittgetensin well.”

“Mine was Iris Murdoch!” called out Alf.

Later they heard a silent siren.It was the emergency ambulance.

Dick, the paramedic bounded into the room.

“It’s this chair”  said Marie urbanely.

“Can you mend it for me? My husband can’t manage without it!”

“Anything else, madam?” Rick queried anxiously.

“Any coal to fetch in,tins to open, blocked toilets?”

“Later maybe.”

Danny looked at Joan.

“Your eyes look like two deep pools in the Caspian sea.” he whispered into her left ear.

“Are you on another creative writing course?”she quipped .urbanely

“Yes, we’re on eyes at the moment; what colour is that eyeshadow you have on.”

“This is called winter teal” She admitted uneasily yet seductively.

“Did you know I’m a transvestite?” he admitted happily.

“Yes”,she replied dishonestly

.Kitty liked  to give an impression of omniscience owing to her ontological insecurity and

her ignorance of theology and also her narrowly trained mathematical mind.

Unfortunately, that frequently gave men the wrong impression.

Mamie cried out to Al,

“Get on with it,my sweetie!” So he took out a big tube of glue from his

jeans’ pocket and set to work reconstructing the chair.

“Oh,dear, Stewart looks a bit odd”

“No,he looks quite prime to me.”

“Is he an integer?!”

“No, he’s a transcendental real number”

“He’s a number all right.”

“Never mind, we’ve just got new wheelie bins so I’ll put him out with the

rubbish,”

Marty joked on hearing Amy’s remarks to Zach.

But Simon was not yet dead.He merely had fallen asleep.

He dreamed of his days at Oxgridge University studying illogic and unreason with

Rudolphina Catnap, the famous female philosopher.Oh, happy, happy days!

Danny made the ladies some Ceylon tea in the fabulous oak kitchen with its pure linen

curtains in raspberry beige. and its black enamel sink with

matching double oven and microwave.”Why no halogen?”Iris Murdoch might have

asked.

“What is a human life,”he pondered.He was studying logic as well as writing.

He began to tremble like a leaf in the wind to use a freshly recycled old

cliche.

“Help” he called,”I’m having a panic attack.Hurry I’m dying,I believe.I

need a priest“

“You can’t have a panic attack,” shouted Marianne

“Paramedics heal themselves.”

“Does God heal those who heal themselves,  he  wondered as he lay under a pile of

broken china?”

“Where’s the tea?” called the ladies.

Ah ,if only Wittgenstein were here,he would know,thought Emile.

But I disagree.Only God would know that and He won’t say usually as he

speaks another language known only to the few.Though sometimes one may hear it on

the wind deep in a thick forest.

That’s what I believe.

Here endeth the first lesson… no more today

Mary loses weight



As Mary walked down the stairs on Friday, she felt her beautiful skirt of many colours slipping off her body and almost reaching the floor. Mary wondered if she had lost weight but she could not see any difference when she looked into the mirror
Maybe it has stretched at the waist .I hope it won’t fall off when I am walking down the street, Mary thought, especially when I’m in the town
What are you doing ,mewed Emile her little black cat?
I’m not doing anything,she replied .I’m just trying to walk down the stairs and my skirt is slipping.
Pull it up said Emile an unkind tone
She replied tactfully,yes I will when I get to the bottom of the stairs but soon her skirt fallen off completely .She was wearing only a brown silk petticoats and a pair of teal coloured tights.
You look cute, Emile said. Maybe you don’t need to wear a skirt, you can wear a petticoat instead,
Thank you very much ,said Mary but the weather is very cold and a silk petticoat is not warm enough for going into the town. I suppose I could put a very warm long coat over the top. Suppose I went into a restaurant and felt too hot then I would have to take off my coat and then everybody would see my petticoat.
Life is made up of Conundrums like this ;the secret is not to start thinking this way in the first place;once you do this is very hard to stop.
Mary’s friends say to her. Are you sleeping alright or how are you sleeping?
Mary never answers because she knows that if you start thinking about pthis a lot it’s not good for you as you can spend all day worrying about whether you are going to be able to sleep that night.
We have no control over our sleep, she pondered , but we can’t afford ruminating as it causes mental illness according to some scientists and doctors.
Rumination cuts people off from the world as they are always looking inside themselves.
Similarly being a perfectionist is very bad for you because again you’re not thinking about the work that you’re producing and enjoying it you are always wondering is this good enough or shall I start again oh I am so stupid etc
It is possible ,Mary has found, to control what you allow yourself to think about.
You can cut your thought off before it gets going.Anything that makes you keep thinking about yourself will create a wall around you . Other people can detect this wall; it makes them avoid you.
In general, we should have a few walls as possible both internal and externalJ
Just then the doorbell rang. it was Annie the ex-mistress of Mary ‘s late husband Stan.
Hello, she cried, how do you like my new coat?
Don’t tell me you’ve got another one ,Mary sighed
I didn’t buy it, Annie murmured. That sweet lady who lives opposite told me that she has put on a lot of weight so she can’t wear this anymore ; she asked me if I would like it
But you have already got about 20 Mary said, but I like this one .It’s a lovely colour; is it what we call teal or is it Kingfisher Blue?
I don’t know but it seems to match my other clothes and and you know I do like a change.
You prefer just to have one coat and wear it all the time, unless you are going out to your special functions, then you might wear your best coat ,which is the brown one isn’t it which Stan used to like because he said it hung well.
Yes he did like that very much and I was wearing it only yesterday as it is very warm. I would like to have more clothes like you do but I seem to be too busy to go shopping.
Annie gazed up with her large round eyes upon which she was wearing turquoise and magenta eyeshadow and bright blue mascara which clashed with her purple lipstick from East Saint Lawless.
That purple lipstick doesn’t match your coat nor your eyeshadow Mary told her
Well I think that a perfect costume puts men off .So it’s better to do something wrong and anyway a lot of men are colour blind so they won’t know that it’s the wrong shade of lipstick. I think that coral would look better and I shall buy some next time I go into the term because teal and coral look very nice together .Purple is good with blues.
Actually, Mary said ,purple make you look as if you’ve got heart disease or anaemia.
Thanks a lot, shouted Annie. What kind of friend are you?
I am an honest friend ,Mary replied in a warm voice.I think that I don’t often say things which distress you but sometimes knowing that you would like to meet another man I feel impelled to give you my point of view.
That’s very kind of you said Annie but I think now I am too old to find a man who wants a mistress because a younger man could get a younger mistress and an older man may be past bothering about mistresses and love and such things.And where can I find one,anyway.
I don’t agree, said Mary I think if you look very nice a man may be very proud to take you out and have you hanging from his arm like a trophy even if he is not able to proceed very far with bodily love. After all ,everybody likes someone to talk to and some companionship ;someone to help them out when they are feeling unwell.As long as that is it is mutual I don’t see anything wrong with it.
The two women stared out of the window and saw a wood pigeon on the shed.Maybe it’s better to be a bird,Mary thought aimlessly before she put on the kettle for a lovely cup of tea and some chocolate fingers.Tea is the best drink in the world or at least in Knitingham

When my legs give way

It’s already going darker and your dinner’s in the pot
Where are you now, my sweetheart? I remember,I forget
I know you liked those kippers smoked in Whitby in a shed
Your breath was something else again, when we went to bed

Then there was the big pie shop, above the mile of beach
We have no pork butcher but we can still buy meat
Men like a steamed pudding hot with home made jam
They like custard, gravy, HP Sauce and ham

We walked out on the causeway and the wind was very wild
We saw the fleet of fishing boats. tossing on the tide
You were so romantic, you went out overnight
But you got sea sickness and your merry face was white

We went up to the Abbey and we saw the cliffs so high
Nature is so beautiful, it makes me want to die
In that stunning moment, when the legs give way
That itself is quite enough,I’ve nothing more to say

Which direction?

A day of sudden changes.Clouds

cross the sky

like whales swimming North in rows.

The sun was bright,dazzled my eyes

with gold and silver.

Wind cut across my face

like a slap from an angry father..

Those who love can also seem to hate us too..

The lure of that small childish body

tempts them to divert their anger towards it.

When the ones who hurt you

are also the ones you love,

it’s hard to know which direction to run in;

but it usually turns into a circle.

Retreating turns into a new arrival.

Straight lines might be better. though

On a spherical earth

difficult to find.

Even parallel lines meet

In their Riemannian geometry.

So we can never get away

Sometimes the best we manage

Is to increase the circle’s radius.

Though how is hard to know.

Do you love me or hate me?

Do you want me to stay or go?

What do I want?Do I have a me?

The memory of warmth draws me back

Like a cold lonely beast leaving the jungle

To lie down with a what appears to be a lamb,

Surprising the farmer up early to milk his animals

Finding a strange new one

Looking with tender,puzzled eyes

into His Human Face.

A wild,stark awe

At the edges of the  failing year,
Since October when the clocks were changed
The furrows, fields freeze with a wild, stark awe.

Trudging landscapes keen and winter-bare
The lines and lengths artistically arranged
By  my eye, this cold day of this year

A single bird flies high with dark winged flair
Insects disappear in sullen rage
The furrows fang the fields with snake-like airs.

Where’s the goat untroubled by a care?
Where’s the lamb they wish to be destroyed,
Unknowing of its future, as Jews were?

See the dead men rising up afar
The eye creates the image and the stage
The furrows stagger, stutter, “here’s the  war”

On such themes, imaginations crash
Aching for God’s chosen unto death
Will there be another farmers’ year?
Why do furrows feel like wailing stars?

 

 

 

Which like the river flows

Oh,John Joe was a farmer’s son

They lived up in the hills.
When he went to tend his sheep
He  gazed down on cotton mills.

The rivers ran with water pure
And so provided power
Yet over these dark ruined towns
The heathered hills did tower.

Mary was a local girl
She walked out on the moors
She wore a dress of silky cloth
Decorated with wild flowers.

John Joe saw Mary dear
When he was dipping sheep
She peered over a dry stone wall
And saw the new lambs leap.

Her hair was long.Her hair was gold
Her eyes singularly blue.
In John Joe’s eyes she was so fair,
What was a man to do?

He watched her walking all alone
Was she sad or sick?
He showed her how his dog behaved
He showed her shepherds’ tricks.

Then one day,he held her hand
As they walked to the Pike.
They stood up there and gazed all round
So John thought he would strike.

He bent down on his right knee
And spoke to Mary then.
I’ve loved you ,Mary, since we met
I hoped we’d meet again

Mary smiled with her blue eyes;
Her lips were pink and bright.
I love you too and love the hills
And. love the summer light.

The next year they were married
Mary wore white lace.
She looked so happy then
To know she’d her own place.

The church bells rang,the people sang
John and Mary wed!
And naturally, when evening came,
At last they went to bed.

When Mary lay in John Joe’s arms
She knew this was her home.
And so for many. many years
On those loved  hills they roamed.

They cared for sheep and hens and goats
They cared for children three.
They never had a falling out
But talked beneath a tree.

From youth to age the years went by
But John still loved his bride.
And Mary too was happy
With John Joe by her side.

Their faces,lined, were full of cheer
Their hair as white as snow
And everywhere that JJ went
Mary too did go.

Until the day came for his death,
He lay down in the grass.
Mary ran and held him close
And thus dear John did pass.

The muffled bells rang from the tower
John Joe was carried in.
The parson prayed and hymns were sung.
The sheep dog made a din.

In the dark earth John was laid
While Mary wept and cried.
What will I do , my  my lover John ,
without you by my side?

Mary grieved and wept and sighed
And thus she spent some  years…
The loss was great and bent her back
with the weight of care.

When we open up our hearts
We feel both joy and woe.
This is the pattern of our love,
Which like  a river flow

Jewish Humour


Jewish Jokes

Manure

Schwartz, an elderly man, is resting peacefully on the porch of his small hotel outside Boca when he sees a cloud of dust up the road. He walks out to see who could be approaching: It is a Southern farmer with a wagon.
“Good afternoon,” says Schwartz.
“Afternoon,” says the farmer.
“Where you headed?” asks Schwartz.
“Town.”
“What do you have in the wagon?”
“Manure.”
“Manure, eh? What do you do with it?”
“I spread it over the fruit.”
“Well,” says Bernstein, “you should come over here for lunch someday. We use sour cream.”