Stan is down on his uppers

Source: Katherineb
Source: Katherine
Stan was down on his hands and knees washing and scrubbing at the carpet with a new microfibre cloth and some shampoo for dry hair.He had a bucket of hot water beside him.Happy, as always, when cleaning and scrubbing he whistled “The lark ascending” for his cat Emile, whilst sipping at a big mug of lager.
Mary was down in the town buying some new earrings to match her red dress from Phase 8 Sale.Their granddaughter Flora had also gone to town but she wanted a nose ring not an earring.As she was a girl it was mandatory in the UK.Suddenly,quite out of the blue,the doorbell rang.They always do don’t they.It was their Muslim neighbour Bert.”We’re going away in the caravan.”He boasted gruffly.”Anyroad,the cat ,Nelsonia Mandelinaah, doesn’t want to come.Would you be able enough to feed her over the weekend without any politically correct remarks being issued ,as it were?”
” Certainly” Stan responded jovially.”When are you off?”
“Well we went last week but we need a weekend in bed to recover from seeing Brent Cross Shopping Centre in Kettlewell right next to the old Post Office.[Kettlewell,Yorkshire’s idyllic village]
“Very strange”Stan said,”Mary was in it only yesterday ,she claims,in Knittingham spending all our minute joint pension on new dresses and shoes.”
“I encounter women who have seen Brent Cross down the road all the time all over Britain.Still they’re entitled to believe what they want!” “But what will the consequences be?”Is there a flying Brent Cross?”
“That sounds rather religious,” Bert answered quickly
,”Is it an augury?”
“I’d say it’s an omen,myself”
“But of what?”
The times we live in?
“But what’s going to happen?” “God knows.” “Well,does he though?”Stan’s hot water had gone cold.In fact it was frozen.”The laws of physics seem very mutable” Stan wrote in his journal,”Also my spelling has deteriorated badly ssince I began drinking laaaaaaaaaaaager.Would whiskey be better?”Meanwhile,he had cleaned only one third of the carpet.
He filled the bath with hot soapy water,stepped in fully clothed and then rolled himself around all over the carpet to pick up all the fluff.

When Mary came in she was amazed,”What’s going on?”
“You look as if you’ve been having an orgy on the floor!”
An orgy was something unknown to Stan as yet.”Would you like one?” he murmured.”Yes,”said Mary childishlyAge has not beaten me yet!””Better have it soon before my knees get too bad!”So now Stan is cleaning the carpet again.It’s very soft and thick,just perfect!The list of invitees is posted on his blog.
Well,he’s been told to do something new every week.An orgy this week,the marathon later!
But why is Mary ringing 999?
Does she want to invite Dave,the paramedic or is it more sinister than I can tell you? “Yes,indeed,she wants to invite Alistair Campbell and Tony Blair but she’s not telling Stan!.He’ll be furious.In fact he might kill someone but no,even these people have the right to life.And they did some good in Northern Ireland.But would you want them at an orgy?””Me neither!”

The colander

 

person holding a bible
Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

Mary came home to find Stan crying in his old chair
What’s the matter,baby, she asked gently?
I feel so stupid, he told her.I was in the kitchen getting a drink but the running water made my   bladder want to empty
Well, we do have a loo in the hall
I forgot that so I picked up an old pan and used that
That’s ok,dearest, she whispered
Then I realised, it was a  colander!
I am sorry,Mary,
Well, it’s nothing.Women are used to things like this.
Hi said Annie as she  ran in with  her pink cheeks glowing
I  have got a steam mop today and I’ve just cleaned your kitchen floor.I’d done mine earlier
That is very kind of you.We had a bit of a problem in there
Yes, the tomcat up the road seemed to have left his mark but it’s ok now
She smiled at Stan. who still looked nervous.
I’ll buy you a steam mop for Xmas.I think of it as a toy and I am  killing Roman soldiers with the steam or I have other little fantasies
So do I,Stan muttered
Why don’t we have a cup of tea?
Mary carried the tea in on a wooden tray
Mary, that’s my desk drawer.
Don’t tell me you were going to wee into this
No, I brought it down  to shake the dust out before I put my pens and paper back
Well, remember, chamber pots are never  made of wood.
Wow. how amazing Why  not ?
Because it is porous so stuff soaks into the very wood itself
Annie said, why do you need one when you have an ensuite plus  a loo in the hall
Maybe   it is my second childhood,Stan joked  merrily
Emile strolled in
Smokey and I have been in the woods.The kitchen seems very   clean
I’ve been trying my steam mop on it,Annie reported
Very nice, said Emile,I’d like a small one
Cats don’t mop floors, mewed Smokey
Maybe we will be the first
Just to make sure Dad is well I’d better ring 999
Stan is not your Dad and he does not want to see anyone
Why not?
He wet the floor
Humans suffer so.We mate with all and sundry, wet the  ground and eat the meat
when you forget to freeze it
Well, never mind.We do have a bit of fun
Have more,Emile mewed
And so say all of us

Be willing

have edited this but have left the original poem  underneath as it is popular and I don’t want to remove it if some people prefer it that way.

The journey to the heart is  graced by love.
And those who need to seek obey their call.
Though virtue and her graces smile above,
We see steep paths ahead;cliffs’  sudden fall.

With willingness to cross  fields deep in mud,
To struggle through the tangled thorny wood.
Our soul within points to the latent good;
Recalls old trees astonished into bud.

As flowers spring up  to tantalize our toes
Encouragement is with much joy received;
And as we smell the fragrance of the rose,
At last we know our souls were not deceived.

For Virgil,fortune favours steadfast feet.
The journey may be long,the end is sweet.

Old version

The pathways to the heart are blessed by love.
And those who truly seek will  never lose.
As virtue and her graces smile above
We see the hills ahead,the rocky views.

With willingness to cross the seas of mud,
To venture via tangled briar-filled woods.
Our soul within shows us the highest good,
When trees that looked quite dead are now in bud.

With flowers springing up  between our toes
Encouragement is ,with relief ,received
And as we smell the fragrance of the rose,
At last we know our hearts were not deceived.

For Virgil, fortune favours those with steadfast feet.
The journey may be long,the end is sweet

He didn’t recognise the bird

I can’t work.I’ve dislocated my retina.
I have dyed my pupil red.
I’ve fallen again.

They say I have smoked my ribs.

They cannot put me in plaster as I will not be able to conceive.

I have twisted my wrist and ruin the Royal Navy

I cracked a bird in my foot. The consultant he’s never seen it before. Well it will be impossible for him to know every bird in North London.

After I cracked the bone, pain made me sing. You should have heard my crimes.

The other mind

Rhythmic poetry echoes our own rhythms

The way the heart beats and the flow of blood.

Music is biology at play

The joy of being alive is well and good

There no need for willpower and its strains

Does the River have to push itself?

Does the tide need training who could tell?

Imitating these is poetry’s stealth.

Overwork is easy but it’s wrong.

Distracts us from the pain of life and death

Both can come together in a song

Let your mind be vacant till you find

The evidence there is another mind