Emile’s diary:why do humans have lips?

A cat ponders

I’m sitting under the coffee table.By rights I should be given some
cafe au lait in a traditional French style wide cup with a silver brim
plus a matching saucer.
I am shocked that Stan has never asked me to partake
.I need a coffee break..it’s hard work spying all day!
And gamblimg all night
I heard Anne talking on her mobile while Stan
was looking for the graph paper.
She must be talking to another woman….
she said she’s just bought some
Revlon light reflectinhg primer lotion
to put under her sun beige mousse foundation.
Ye Gods,it sounds as if she’s painting the wall.
She was moaning she can’t afford Lancome de Berlin
et Paris any more.Mousse foundation..that sounds tasty!
She wants some heather coloured lipstick
but she couldn’t find any.
She’s put a new one on anyway
and Stan came in to give his opinion:
Congratulations,Anne.
You have found lipstick that’s exactly the same colour as your own lip .
She was mortified.Choosing lipstick is not easy
Well,it makes me glad to be a cat…we have no need
for skin products and we have no lips as such.
Why do humans have lips?Is it mainly for kissing?
And perfume………we like the natural odours
but I’ve never seen Stan go up and sniff Annie’s nether regions..
.though I admit I took a sniff and she smells very intriguing..
. probably some musk she’s bought in Boots or Woolworths
I envy Stan in a way.Because I’d like to kiss Anne
but my lips are too small….I could lick hers
with my little raspy tongue!How wicked is that?
Maybe if she falls asleep i’ll have a go.
I love that woman so..
A cat may look at a king,but can he lick a lady’s lips?
Well, I must go and take a walk around my territory
and sniff out who’s about….face primer.
What next.Paint stripper? What a waste of time and money.
I could be chasing dandelion clocks round the garden and so could she.

Where am I going?

P1000310

Mary dreamed she was riding her bicycle.She was going up a hill and then approaching a very complicated roundabout.
How can I look at the map when I am riding my bike,she asked herself.Anyway I don’t have a map and I’ve never been here before.She looked down and saw she was wearing some dark blue denim culottes and red suede knee high boots with laces.
I don’t remember buying these,she thought.She felt quite hot even though she wore only an olive needle-cord coat over a Breton T shirt.
Goodness me, she cried.I look smart.
Her spectacles clouded over as she was sweating.How will I know where to turn off when I don’t know where I am or where I am going to.
When she woke up she filled Stan’s beer tankard with tea.
What a lot of tea,miaowed Emile.
I thought it saves carrying the tea pot. I’m going to go back to bed as I feel a bit peculiar.
You have got a fleece nightgown on.Maybe you are too hot,he replied.
I am trying to save money on the heating,Mary answered.I see I can save even more money by buying 2 pairs of Hotters sandals for £97.Usually they are £127.
That saves £30,the clever animal informed her.
I think it’s quite misleading,Mary answered.It only saves money if you were already planning to buy them.I have such strange feet I don’t like to bare them.
Do you wear shoes in bed with a boyfriend.Emile asked.
I’ve not got a boyfriend.Emile/
But if you did?
Well.you know, an older man might not wish to go to bed with me.He might like just sitting holding my hand and kissing me.
OK said ,Emile.It sounds a trifle boring to me.
Don’t be so cheeky, Emile.Talking to me is not boring.
No, he said, but it’s nice running up and down your legs in bed.
I could hardly expect a man to do that.He might injure me.
It was just a kind of example,he replied nervously.

Suddenly the back door opened and in ran Annie from next door.She was wearing a mustard coloured track suit and orange trainers with matching lip gloss.
What a horrible colour,Mary cried.
It’s the in colour now,Annie said kindly.I am getting my hair dyed too.
Bright yellow is better,Mary told her.Except it attracts insects.
Insects,I don’t want those.How are you,dear.You look flushed, she responded emotionally.
No wonder. I’ve been cycling all night in my dreams.Why can’t I dream of motor bikes?
Don’t ask me,Annie told her.I am utterly ignorant.Do you need therapy?
I don’t think so,Mary answered.I need to know where I am going.Do I decide or is it my Inner Wisdom or Higher Power.I could use higher power on that bike.
Just take it one rotation at a time, Annie murmured.
I thought it was one step.Mary answered
You can’t take a step on a bike.
I suppose not.But I could ride up a step on the bike.
Don’t ride up a step ladder,Anne advised.How would you get down again?
Let’s have some coffee,Mary cried.Here we are ,the kettle is boiling.
Let’s just sit and brood.
But don’t ruminate,purred Emile.It makes you ill.
Just let your mind go blank.
And so I did.

Emile’s hanky

6255489_f520

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 neighbour 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 slender.my 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 into his ear
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 computerised 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 Sainsburys.” 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 Spencers.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 Wittgenstein say?
Be quiet.
What?

Stan wants a meringue.

Stan and Annie were clearing a big desk to make space to study government
statistics.Despite this Annie was dressed as brightly as a mad peacock on l s d. in turquoise cotton trousers and a teal blue viscose and polyester [with 5 percent elastane V necked striped top.She chose the V neck was because she thought it made her look slimmer but if that were so it was contradicted, somewhat paradoxically, by the clinging induced by the elastane in the fabric.
What a problem dressing is nowadays she murmured.Her bedtime reading was “Contradiction, Paradox,Woman and Society” by the unknown,unseen yet internationally famous author Dr K. R. Craibaite “Paradox and contradiction are the route to understanding” was the last sentence she had read before she fell asleep last night.Then. she had dreamed she saw a mouse eating a lion.No wonder she had indigestion today.
“Shall I make the coffee” she said to Stan.
“No,dear.I’ll do it if you can get the graph paper sorted.”
Stan stood up and walked across the room with a dazed expression.
“I hope he’s not been trying self hypnosis again” she thought quixotically.He returned with two large mugs of steaming hot coffee.
“Would you like a meringue” he enquired.
“I’d love one.”
“So would I,” he answered glumly.”But we have no cake at all.”
“I blame Tony Blair.”
“Why him?”
“Well,I have to blame someone,don’t I?”
“Why not blame yourself”
Stan began to sob and moan.
So Annie rang 999.”Can you send a paramedic.My friend needs a
meringue.” she said in a friendly tone.
“What do you think the N.H.S. is , a cake shop?” the receptionist replied assertively in ringing tones.
“Well,we older folk need cakes!”Annie cried.
“How old are you,” the lady said.
“Why is there some cut off point?” Annie retorted…
..”Yes,we only supply meringues to centenarians!” she was told.
“Well really,whatever next,” Annie cried in shock.
“I suppose they have to economise now and can no longer supply cakes and ale to pensioners like they used to do.”
But we could send you some toasted mouse sandwiches,” she was told.
“Don’t bother,” she cried fortuitously.
The heat had made her makeup run and small rivers of turqouise,black and blue were crossing her face giving it the appearance of a large bruise.She wished she had followed the advice her mother had given her,
“When in doubt,leave it out”
Or,was it “when in doubt,say nowt” or even
“when glum ,keep mum.
“I would have kept Mum,”she thought resentfully, “but the law won’t let you once they die”.
“Why do we have so little freedom here in England?” she asked Stan querulously
.”I can’t tell you” he croaked mysteriously.
“Why not?”
It’s forbidden by the Official Secrets Act.”
“After we finish the statistics on unemployment and mental health we could look into Official Secrets,” he promised her mellifluously.
“Stan, you are so good.” she said gratefully.
Will you wash my new jeans?” he asked.
“Why can’t you do it?” she fretfully quizzed him
“I don’t want Mary to see them.”
“Gosh it’s 5pm .She’ll be back soon.
“We’ve not got far today.
I expect we can make up for it tomorrow.”
Not wanting to contradict him she remained silent whilst he studied her face like an a psychologist trying and failing to see meaning in an ink blot.
Then the doorbell rang.It was Dave,the paramedic with a tray of mouse sandwiches.What a lovely surprise that was.
Hello,Dave,Annie cried.I love your slim jeans.
“They shrunk in the washing machine but as they are stretch jeans they still fit.” he told her gently.
“You can say that again” muttered Stan.As for Emile,he had blushed as soon as he saw them.”My goodness,he’ll do himself an injury,”he thought.”Still,it’s free country at the moment.

Stan and Mary go shopping

Stan and Mary went in town
To buy Stan a new dressing gown.
But he needs a woollen one
In March that is not on.

The shops are full of summer clothes
But Stan’s not warm enough for those.
Mary likes to look around
But see how old Stan frowns.

So Mary says,I’ll go online
I’m sure I’ll find some fully lined
Made of wool and acrylic
Them you can make your pick.

Thank you,Mary,you are kind
Despite that brilliant,anxious mind.
I am the best dressed man intown
And soon I’ll have my gown.

Would you like cafe au lait?
I have my pension,I shall pay.
Very nice,dear Mary said.
I’d like a piece of bread.

Won’t you have a slice of cake?
I know it’s not quite what I make.
No,just plain bread,sweet Mary said
She then turned very red.

Mary,you look very hot
Is it healthy in this spot.
The central heating is too high
She gave a weary sigh.

They drank their coffee and made jokes
About old folk who never spoke…
They bought some fresh fish for Emile..
They alway shop with zeal.
..
When they got home.Stan dialled Dave
Who told him he was very brave
and not to stand near a bus door…
Or he’d fall on the floor.
.
Oh,how I’d like to lie down there
With my mistress Annie fair.
but Mary is at home today
So i’ll just have to pray.

If you’re in pain and can’t have sex,
They say that prayer is second best
Morphine is so hard to get
And it makes me feel sick.

So tomorrow Mary works
Stan and Annie have their perks
Dave calls round to bath the cat.
How obscene is that?

If you would like your cat washed
Or if your shopping has got squashed
Just dial 99999
The service is divine

Mary wants a woollen vest

Winter had come very early to Knittingham yet owing to the late summer and wet autumn,many trees still had their leaves,,,,,,,,,,,some were even green.Stan and Mary were sitting in their mock Tudor cottage style kitchen eating muffins and honey with Earl grey tea in mugs.
Wow,it’s so cold,Mary remarked.
Now,Mary I have told you before that Wow is not a word I expect to hear from such a highly educated person as yourself….why waste your learning?All those years climbing over walls in Oxford and dating clever doctors from Harvard…
Bollocks,Mary answered in a tone not unlike the late Rose Nordloch,philosopher extraordinaire who was famed for her obscene talk.
I am thinking of buying some woollen vests,she continued loudly.
Good grief!
What is it, my darling Stan said nosily.Mary was looking at a catalogue of ladies clothing. and lingerie which had come i nthe post
They are £39 each,she said wonderingly.If I get three it will be nearly £120 plus postage.Just imagine,I may be unable to afford wool vests.
Can’t you just buy one and wear it all winter like the Tudors did?her loving yet irascible husband replied
I think it would get smelly,my dear,even if I wore my anti -perspirant,Mary answered benignly.We should get wool vests from the Government to save us from going to A and E with double pneumonia,she continued softly…Shall we mention it at the Labour Party meeting? I can get it on the agenda.
No,no,Stan cried,I want your lingerie to be a secret
A woollen vest is hardly lingerie,she retorted.. sounding like a character from Barbara Pym‘s novels.
Everything a lady wears under her dress in lingerie he murmured gently….bras,knickers,pantaloons,petticoats,vests,corsets,suspender belts.stockings,tights,trouser liners,lace,fine silk,short underskirts,long underskirts……..nightiesBut some lingerie is more sensual…Stan said wistfully,recalling the brown silk underwear Mary used to wear before feminism made most lingerie a No,No!
Anyway,Mary said,we are too old for sex….we are too stiff and we are too shy now as well
But not too old to have a few fantasies,Stan thought… and woollen vests did not feature in his… he preferred lace and silk with a hint of perfume…. maybe a little embroidery….a dying art.Emile came in and asked for a vest too and some underpants…
Suppose I wet them? he miaowed in a panic.
Well,you can’t have a nappy,Emile.Stan informed him.
I have no desire for such things,Emile mioawed angrily…where is my food?
Oh, yes… it’s in the fridge,said Stan.He took a large goldfish out of the fridge.
Where did you get that from? Mary asked fearfully…
Oh,that tom cat down the road knocked a fish tank over and he gave Emile one.
But they are pets!She shrieked…. ring 999 now and ask for an ambulance
Dave the bisexual paramedic strode in looking merry.
It’s Frank,the gold fish,said Mary fearfully……………Is he dead?
He is not quite dead,Dave answered….get a bowl of rain water.He put Frank into the bowl and Frank began to swim…
Well, that’s a bloody miracle,Mary screamed. almost frightening Stan to death!
Just call him Lazy Lazarus.Dave quipped…he was in suspended animation.. fish are very clever.Would you like me to clean out the kitchen or fetch in some coal for the scuttle? he asked the old dears.Or read you a poem by Sylvia Plath
Thanks but not today,Dave.We were just discussing vests.Do you wear one?
Oh,yes.he said, and I wear a short petticoat too….I’d love a silk one as I am a transexual transvestite too,so I believe.
Very wise,Mary informed him.Underwear keeps us warm.
And it makes me hot,thought Dave…. but he said nothing.He kept his sex life almost a secret even from himself.
Vests,thought Mary.
To buy or not to buy?
That is my question

Stan cuts Annie’s hair

Stan was in the new black and cream kitchen cooking the Sunday dinner.As usual in the North it was roast beef and Yorkshire puddings.Stan was very good with Yorkshire puddings.They ate them with gravy before the main course just to maintain tradition.Even Emile,their talking cat, loved a pudding soaked in thick meaty gravy..
Suddenly the kitchen door burst open and in rushed their neighbor Annie… covered in blue paint.
What’s happened to you,Stan enquired cautiously.Surely you are not house painting on Sunday?
No,I never paint myself,she responded.I was in the old shed and a stray cat was up on the top shelf.It leaped off knocking over this tin of paint.I’m wondering how to get ot out of my hair?
What type of paint is it?
It’s emulsion paint.
Well,I’m afraid you can’t get it out!
I can’t go around town with blue hair,she cried loudly,even a touch hysterically.
Well,all I can think is that I could cut off a little of your hair.
OK, if that’s the only way to get rid of that damned paint.Can I stay and eat with you,babe?
Of course,sweetheart.Now here are some pinking shears.
Have you no ordinary scissors? she cried fractiously.Oh,bleedin’ ‘ell!!
No,we lost them.But pinking shears will give a layered effect.
Stan began cutting the lefthand side of Annie’s hair.Then he went around to the right….his left or her right?
She looked in the mirror,The left is a bit longer,she murmured vampishly.She falt like cussing and swearing but she didn’t know enough bad words so far in her life.
OK I’ll cut off a bit more.Stan whispered into her neck.
Oh,my God.The shears slipped,it’s gone really short,he shouted.
All Stan could do was cut the remainder of Annie’s lovely hair so it was only 2 cm long all over.
Suddenly Mary came in,
I didn’t know you were a hair dresser, she said sardonically to her errant husband.
Well,Annie got paint in her hair so I’ve trimmed it off.
Trimmed it..it looks like she won’t need a cut for about two years.
Annie began to sob noisily ,terrifying Emile who was hiding behind the flour bin watching some ants.
Well,Stan answered, it will be easier to wash and dry and she’ll have no need for rollers etc.Why,I could do it for a living.
I think it looks charming.
Why pinking shears?Mary whispered.You could have used my dressmaking ones.
Well,too late now mioawed Emile sarcastically from the bookcase filled with the entire Penguin cookery book collection over thirty years.What a pity it took up so much space in the tiny kitchen.
I think her hair looks sweet,said Stan bravely.
Meantime,you have burned the puddings again.Just like King Alfred and the cakes.Men are only good at savory and meat dishes.
It takes a woman to cook puddings and cakes.But Yorkshire puddings are savories.
I wonder how Wittgenstein would have classified them ? cried Mary enthusiastically.
Not Wittgenstein again,moaned Stan in mental torment,can’t you move onto some other philosopher?
Whom do you suggest? she said grammatically.
Try Carnap or take up gardening.
Oh,Carnap’s more of a logician,Mary said defiantly,
You see I love Wittgenstein as a human being.
Are you committing adultery with him ?Stan demanded thoughtfully his eyes bright like lasers.
That’s a wild exaggeration,He’s dead,Mary muttered.And he was,er,gay!
How do you know? That’s what they all say,shouted Stan angrily.
But what about you and Annie? Mary said venomously.
Well,I get lonely with you lecturing all day and studying Wittgenstein and mathematics all night
Surely you could wait till I come home? Mary said sharply
I suppose so,though a harem has always been my dream!
I think you are a bit past it now at 99,said Mary.
That’s not what I think, said Emile quietly.Cats and men…how do they do it?
Meanwhile Annie had washed her hair an it dried in tiny uneven curls all over her head.
It looks quite fetching,they decided as they sat down to eat the charred Yorkshire puddings.
What an exciting Sunday especially for Stan who enjoyed touching and playing with women’s hair.
I wonder if it’s a mental illness?I’ll have to look on the internet.Still, better than panic attacks, he thought
consolingly as he carried the roast beef onto the dining room where the women were discussing religious topics including a curiosity about why Christians were so anti Semitic despite Jesus’ wish for people to love each other.and besides being God,He was also a Jewish person too.
That’s interesting,Stan thought,here people think he’s English!What a weird world it is,to be sure.God was not a white Eton educated man.He may have been brown with a long black beard and a moustache.Did he smoke?
Only when he thought nobody was looking!Then he had flames coming out of his ears,Well,it made him laugh,you see.It’s Sunday soon so get ready.The Lord is nigh and he has a new hat on too

I owe it to myself to keep my life secret (wordscat.wordpress.com)

Stan and his ass (wordscat.wordpress.com)

Annie breaks into Stan’s sacred space (wordscat.wordpress.com)

YORKSHIRE PUDDING – not just for roast beef (debbievfood.com)

27 Reasons Yorkshire Is God’s Own County (buzzfeed.com)

Satan’s holiday part 2

Stan was very worried that the police had caught him.He didn’t realize that ,with the low sun, the mirror in his pocket was flashing out coded messages to aircraft.He got out of the car and walked over to the police on the grassy verge of the road
I’m so sorry,it’s just my wife’s solid gold powder compact.See?
Have you got your marriage certificate with you?
Well,no.I didn’t know we in the UK needed to show them to the police. demurred Stan
It may belong to your wife but you are a man.Men don’t carry them.We never saw one before.Young women never use then,
Certain men might of course..actors or politicians.I know Tony Blair wore make up.
That’s irrelevant.Give me that compact.
Stan pulled the golden compact out of his pocket,still open.
The police man stared into the mirror.His face turned pale.He handed the compact to Stan and ran back to his car asking the driver to take him to the nearest boiling Tea Shop.
Stan looked at Satan and grinned…
What did you do?
I just held up a photo I have of him in bed with a sheep….need I say more?
Did you enjoy seeing that? Stan asked thoughtlessly.
Not much.~I prefer your flame haired mistress with her perfume of Araby.She’s something else again.
So you can smell then? Stan enquired.
Oh,yes,said the devil.Sure I can.I just can’t touch or be touched.
So Stan started the car and off they went;all the lights were green and not a single police car was on duty.
Soon they reached Upper Sheringham.The people here are very long lived.I know it’s the best place to live in the UK;then they turned down the old High Street and parked by a gambolling shop full of lambs.
Now what?
Will the sea cheer up a sad old devil or make him suicidal?The cliffs are not very high.

We must await the next piece of the story with interest and patience.
Email me with ideas at
merrymaryminds@hotmail.com

Stan in hell

Stan was standing on the patio when a sudden downpour drenched him all over.
This is like a monsoon,he murmured to Emile who was also getting very wet.
A head appeared over the fence.
I’m awfully sorry,old boy.A pipe has burst in Annie’s loft.
Wow,I don’t believe it.You are Stan Brown.It must be 50 years since I saw you as a student… you were hopeless at logic then
Stan was hiding his surprise at seeing Rudolf Hairnet,his former tutor at an ancient foundation of learning and sin, in the garden of Annie,Stan’s beloved once more [now he has swept out his sacred space and put a bolt on the door.]
Why not pop in Rudolf,he said.I’ll leave the door open and go upstairs to change my clothes.Be with you in a moment.
Stan went upstairs and removed his clothes.His body was now as thin as when he reached his full height of 6 ft 6 inches but alas it had less muscle and more fat..He gazed into his wife’s mirror.
To his surprise he saw Satan looking out.Although he knew this was possible for sinful Catholics he had never met Satan before.
How do you get behind the mirror,he asked gently.
God only knows,said Satan morosely.
Why not ask him? Stan offered.
I’m too proud,the poor devil replied in a bleak voice.
Well,we all have our pride,Stan told him,though no doubt yours is the biggest size in the universe.
Yes,indeed,Satan answered.
Are you here for any special purpose,Stan enquired.
Yes,your home seems more intriguing than most and I like to watch you in bed with that flame haired woman.
I see,said Stan,You are a voyeur.
That’s one way of describing me,Satan said,no woman will come to bed with me so I am trapped here behind every mirror in the world.I can see it all but never take part.
You must be very lonely,said Stan
Yes,the dark spirit muttered.I am.
Are there no she-devils about who might oblige you?
I don’t seem to fancy them so much.They are all as bad a me,I want kindness and tenderness not just lust.After all,one might satisfy that with a vibrator… we have them in hell you know!Free as well.
Why,you are beginning to sound almost human,Stan told him.That’s what we want too.If only you would apologise to God I am sure he would forgive you and let you come into the real world of others instead of being trapped in there
Stan heard a noise.He turned round displaying his bony frame and his organs to Rudolf.
Are you ok?I was worried that the drenching had knocked you off balance.I have put your kettle on the fire to make you a hot drink and phoned 999 for aid.
But we don’t have a fire,Stan responded anxiously.
Well,you do now said Rudolf,so let’s enjoy the flames while we can.
To whom were you talking in there?
I was on my mobile,said Stan defensively.
But where was it?You had nothing on ?
On second thoughts,please don’t tell me.I’ve heard some strange stories but arsing about with a why,hi phone is not one I wish to dwell on.
That’s logicians for you.No interest in the wilder shores of life ,Stan told himself as he went downstairs and joined Rudolf in a good cup of tea with sugar and biscuits
And that is what I need to recover from writing down this very odd tall story…
And so does Dave the poor young paramedicKindly refrain from reblogging or re- tweeting as amusement often offends.

Please read with baited breath.You may catch something.

Do not email you comments to me at :kitswits@hellsangels..co.uk

nor at :cleverlady@hotmail.hell.com

Thank you for obeying me.You will ge rewarded in Devonn.

Mary is worrried:tales from the UK

On Saturday afternoon after luncb ,or midday dinner as we said up north before winning places in posh universities which stole our native language, Mary began to feel very nervous, as she was going to the hospital with Stan on Monday for his next appointment with Dr.Range Rover.
Mary was puzzled.She felt almost happy last week about seeing this kind hearted and gracious well dressed female doctor.However she had been shunted sideways onto a male doctor who was almost totally silent.. so much so that he seemed to absorb Mary’s questions into his sponge of a brain without feeling the need to respond.
Why do I feel so apprehensive this week? Mary asked her dear black cat Emile.
After all.I was happy to see her or to even have a biopsy last weekend.Why have I changed in my feelings so much in a week?
Does it matter? purred Emile.
Maybe your mood is affected by something else.. like fatigue or housework or the ravages of age… [he was well read]
We don’t always know why we feel a certain way but I feel it’s good if we are willing to accept these negative moods.Even I have my moods when the fish you get me is not the right sort and you don’t give me my cat’s handkerchief neatly ironed.
You are so wise,Emile,especially as,being a cat,you never have to endure these interviews with consultants in horrible outpatients clinics.So you must have a wonderful empathy for humans
This lady doctor tomorrow is exciting me,cried Emile loudly.May I come with you inside your Grace Kelly handbag.
What’s wrong with my shopping bag? Good grammar,by the way..
Well,she wil be surprised if you take a heavy shopping bag even if it has a Mondrian design on it… she may get suspicious.. even paranoid.If I am in your handbag she will not realise.
Not unless you miaow,mused Mary benignly as she smiled down at him her singular eyes gleaming like the headlamps on a Roller.
I like to know the reason for things,she continued somewhat frantically.I think therefore I might be eventually.I am not yet,for sure.
Does everything have a reason,shouted Stan querulously from the hall…
Well ,it does,but it might be beyond human understanding like the Burning Bush..
We can only perceive what our language permits unless we are poets,mystics or artists and even then it’s tough to venture into the unknown,unthought or unknowable..
languages develop in societies and learning your language embeds you in many cultural assumptions without you realising it.You think it’s reality when it is just one perspective.
How true,screeched Annie their neighbour from outside the open patio door.

She stopped there in her teal velour tracksuit with pink bra peeping and with unusually orange lipstick and toning turquoise eyeshadow and on her feet were striped trainers with red lights on which might give men the wrong idea about this pure and rich lady
You seem to be overthinking,she said to Mary.Are you sickening with the heat?It’s like loving too much, which may be co-dependency.
That’s a very silly pc word,said Stan rudely.We are all dependent but men can hide it until their wives run away with the milkman and they get a shock not knowing how much they’d miss her changing the sheets and buying their underpants and socks.And ironing their hankies
Surely that’s not the main reason a man might miss his wife,cried Mary as she carried in the tea tray with a big white insulated teapot.
Well,you can go on the web and find a virtual sex partner or even buy a dummy woman. but it’s tough to find a devoted woman who knows what you need to function.
Why don’t you buy your own underwear and use tissues?,asked Emile
Well,Emile,I put out the rubbish and wash the heavy Le Creuset pot.I see to the car and bikes.I paint the fence and even bake cakes.
Mary washes the clothes and changes the sheets unless she has an idea to write down.She kindly does all the worrying for both of us and I remain calm like a lighthouse.We complement each other ideally.. and we love each other and a few others as well..without giving away our secrets
That’s one waay of describing it,thought Mary without commenting out loud
Anyway,I am still wondering why I feel nervous about Dr Range Rover….
If you accepted the nervusness it might ease,said Annie wisely in her highly pitched voice like a car siren going off at night
Just then the doorbell rang.It was Dave the bisexual transvestite paramedic.
Emile phoned 999 saying Mary was having kittens, he said rapidly.This really must stop;inter species sex is not allowed here like most sexual activity
He was speaking metaphorically or is it metonymically,Stan groaned.
Now you are here go and make us a fresh pot of tea and admire my new tea caddy.I bought it for Mary last week in that new ironmonger’s shop in town.
At your service,sir,Dave said politely,his flowered dress waving in the breeze.
Do you know anything about Dr Range Rover,Dave? Annie murmured
What is her reputation etc
Some people like her, Dave said,Usually men.she’s not so good with women..
Well it’s too late to change thought Mary so I shall have to willingly endure the agony of meeting her again as I cannot leave Stan on his own with her…
why who knows what might happen? She might become his mistress as he likes several nowadays. despite nearly being too thin to live…
God only knows, a little voice said.
Hello,said Mary.I’ve not heard from you lately.
Well,I am still here looking after you
Thank you, Lord,I love you, Mary shouted joyfully to the surprise of Stan and Annie, not to mention the cat Emile who was unlearned in the religion of his owners.
I thought you were an atheist,Annie said with horror.
I am an atheist and I still believe in God.It’s what we call a paradox..Mary cried graciously….
What would Wittgenstein have said?
Whereof one cannot understand,therof one must be patient and tolerant,.
Why does Mary need to understand all her feelings…Stan wondered
When it’s raining she doesn’t spend hours wondering why and similarly if it’s raining in her heart she must take it like parched grass…she thinks too much.
Too much for what? Her sanity perhaps which has at times bei.ng doubtful but that has made her very understanding to those who find life hard.Everyone has value,even mad,nervous half blind, supersensitive, vulnerable,stout arthritic female mathematical geniuses like Mary.She enriches the tapestry of life in a very real sense as someone once said
And so say all of us,she’s a jolly good Fellow of All Proles College,Oxenford..you know how famous it is!Or soon will be.

My beloved is mine

https://youtu.be/zz75P1pziM4

My Love, Antonia

Your skin glows likea comical pear in deep sunlight;
You smell as sweet as the unlaundered clothes in a Charity Shop
without even a deodorant to your name,
My yearning heart dotes on your lilting voice
and leaps like a seasick kitten at the whisper of your Latin name,
Antonia.
The evening descends softly over that great Wren Cathedral in the City.
I am calmed by your body chemistry;
I carry your odour into the twilight
I see the moon beams and I hold your gloves next to my table napkin at dinner
so I can steal some food for tomorrow and leave no fingerprints.
I am filled with such tremulous joi de vivre
May I dry your tears of ink and buy you a biro ball point and some artificial tears?
As my left ear falls onto your breast,
it reminds me of your three dimensionality and your solid geometry.
And your perfect symmetry.
I have waited too long saving up for a diamond.
In the hushed noontide, I wait for the last drones of the USA to pass over
or may be it’s just a herd of wasps.
My heated hands leap to put on your sweet blue shawl
I wait in the crystal moonlight for your sentimental piece of verse,
so that we may drive as one,leg to leg
We discourse spitefully on the spiritual nature of true love.
I have more than once tried to roll your stone away
but your tomb is impenetrable without angelic help.
Oh,Jesus, another nightmare.I am glad to meet you..
I could hardly wait..
And this is my girlfriend,Antonia.
My sweet Lord,
Really want to know you,but it takes so long,I know.
I’m in Heaven..
Here’s Nye Bevan..
And Lord Beveridge

Emile takes Stan to the vet

Stan realized it was time for Emile to have his annual flu jab.He stopped polishing the back windows and picked up the phone.

Hello,it’s Stan here.Can I make an appointment for Emile?
Yes, come today if Emile has had a bath
Are you joking?
Yes,the receptionist responded cheerfully.
Actually he did have a bath and now can swim breaststroke! Stan faltered.
How amazing,she said sweetly.
Stan got out Emile’s travelling basket.He put some copies of The Independent inside
in case Emile was bored..
Here,Emile,I’m taking you for a ride in the car.kindly step into your basket,you dear creature.
Can’t I sit by you and wear a seat belt?
I fear it’s illegal as yet.
OK,grand-dad,Emile answered jauntily.He climbed into the basket and sat up staring out boldly with his great amber eyes.
The doorbell rang.
Hello,Annie,Would you like to come to the vet’s with us?
Annie looked down at her violet velvet track suit and purple trainers with real gold 9 carat laces.
Yes,I’ll sit in the back with Emile, she muttered
After ten minutes they arrived at the vet’s and parked the car under an elm tree.Stan carried the basket steadily not wanting the poor cat to fall in an undignified manner.

Annie looked at her green nails.
Do you like my nail varnish,Stan?
To be honest,I prefer shell pink,he said softly.
Why is that,darling?
It is more feminine! Stan informed her laddishly
Feminine!But you can see I’m feminine!
I’d like you to be even more feminine,he chuckled
Oh,yes ,agreed Emile,So do I.
You men,she cried sweetly,never satisfied.
I wouldn’t say that,my America,my Newfoundland!
What’s up? Swallowed the dictionary.
It’s a poem,actually.And it’s what Ted Hughes called Sylvia Plath,
You’ve been reading again.It’s bad for you.
Don’t you like to be my new found land?Stan enquired jocosely
A bit late to ask now,she murmured seductively.
Next moment they were in the empty waiting room.Then,ala. a man came in with a big black dog.Emile stared fiercely and the dog whimpered and lay down on the floor.
The vet came out and asked Stan to bring Emile in.Emile gave a yell at the dog before Stan shut the door.So,said the beautiful young vet,how is pussy today.
Emile remained silent.

He’s fine,just needs his flu jab.muttered Stan.
Come now,Emile come out of there.But Emile was clinging to his basket with his sharp claws.
Are you afraid Emile?He asked kindly
No,I’m not afraid,I’m just acting how vets expect cats to act.
So Emile speaks English?
He knows French too.
Je t’aime Emile.
Bedankt,madame.
Stop showing off and get out of there,she doesn’t speak Dutch.
Mein mutter wast immer krank,cried Emile.
Get out now!
Emile came out slowly and stood by this good lady.

She looks a bit like Annie, he whispered.
The vet took out a small needle and swiftly injected Emile.
What a good boy,she sang,would you like a jelly baby?
A jelly baby!Cats don’t eat jelly babies! Emile said proudly
Well, have a go! the vet replied
Emile stalked back to his basket,put on some glasses and began to read the editorial in The Independent.
Stan was hoping to make a suggestive remark to the vet,but Annie came in.
Hurry up,there’s a thunderstorm coming.Her nails were now pink.
Did you change your nail varnish? he asked her.
No,the green was artificial nails!I took them off.
Can I have some claw varnish.demanded Emile
What color?
I fancy teal,Emile miaowed.
Teal!How ludicrous!
What about red?
Too pretentious.
I don’t think I’ll bother then,the cat said languidly
We men don’t have to bother about such things.
Well,you are lucky said Annie.
I hate makeup and nail varnish,blow dries and manicures but I don’t feel feminine without it.
You feel very feminine to me said Stan,running his hand softly along her forearm
and patting her behind!
Stan!Not here in the road!
Why not?enquired Emile.It looks ideal to me if you go behind those bushes.
Annie jumped into the car and drove away leaving Stan to carry Emile to the bus stop for a tedious journey home.Then she reappeared,opened the door and said,come on now
let’s all go home.I’m sorry I drove away.I’m feeling a bit blue today.
They got in and arrived safely home where Stan brewed a big pot of tea and let Annie sit on the sofa with her feet on a cushion.He rubbed her head gently.Lovely,she purred.
I like having my head stroked.

So do I,said Emile loudly but alas they were too busy to hear or care.So Emile fell asleep and dreamed he was only a character in a story written by a character on East Enders.

Stan’s mind starts to wander

Stan put on his hat and went down the spring green garden where a blackbird trilled.The sunlight was very strong,almost glaring in intensity.That’s an interesting word,more commonly used to describe the angry expression on the face of an adult who believed he is a position of power,he thought.
It pains most people to be glared at, he reminded himself.
Stan’s wife Mary had a habit of humming or even singing as she went about her day at work or home.Usually sshe didn’t realise!
He recalled the day she came home from her Art Class to amuse him with a tale of a very wealthy and dominating lady who had suddenly glared at Maru and shrieked,
Is there something wrong with you?
Mary said,
Yes, there is actually. but I don’t usually talk about it except with the doctors.
Why not ? shrieked the woman nastily in her dominatrix style
Well,I thought it might upset folk to hear I am terminally ill but in your case I’ll make an exception.
Well,I don’t give a f*ck, you are annoying, me was the reply that she received.
Even if you are dying right now that is no excuse for humming in the class.
Well,said the teacher,I always thought you were a very superior person,Nancy,but now I hear you insulting my newest pupil in public I believe I was mistaken.
Oh,Mary had told Stan, it seems that humming” Neasden” in the class, albeit unconsciously. is far worse than to be seriously ill.
There is no sense of proportion now…surely anyone can see there is no comparison though I prefer hearing the Trout Quintet,myself,he had told her
Fortunately Mary’s illness had been completely cured by a new drug and she was able to continue her Art and riding her bicycle.Nancy was too proud to apologise but after hearing Mary was going to recover completely she had offered her a quarter of a broken chocolate biscuit at coffee time.
You are too thin, she admonished Mary,but I have come to like your humming and am even thinking of trying it myself.How do you do it?
I can’t say,Mary answered,it just happens.
I see,said Nancy.Perhaps I’ll go to a singing teacher.
I hope she does instead of coming here,Mary thought as she still glares at me wherever I sit.She’s a bit like those pictures of Saints whose eyes seem to be on you and follow you wherever you sit in the room in a judgmental way.
Stan’s mind was wandering as he gazed over his fence.He remembered when he first met Mary when her bicycle had been stolen from outside a Public Library and he had helped her to look for it.In fact it was he who had stolen it in order to have an excuse to speak to her.How singularly blue her eyes were when she smiled graciously at any man nearby.As her conscious mind was on a branch of mathematics it left her unconscious free to seek what it desired free of all constraints thus causing mayhem until June when term ended and only the ancient postgraduates were left in the deserted city free to play with non-linear diffferential equations all day blong

Stan and the angel

Stan had eaten too much pizza because he was extremely ravenous from doing the washing. and hanging it up on the mulberry tree in his long garden Now he felt lazy and haphazardly fey and other worldly and liable to have visions..Now and then he saw an angel whom he called Yael in his home.But having looked up Yael on a website he realised she was not a very nice woman unlike his dear wife Mary.So he was planning a new name for the angel with her permissiom
Do you mind if I change your name,he enquired gently when Yael came in through the French window.
Well,what to? Yael asked him familiarly
How about Ysabel? Stan offered.It’s got just an extra b and s.
Or how about,Sybael?
You seem fond of b and s, the angel answered in confusion.
It was just mere chance,said Stan somewhat defensively.
Ok I’ll take Sybael,the angel said loudly .
I want to change my name too, said Emile the cat of Stan.
How about Mebiles or Melibes or Eimbles….
I don’t know, pouted the cat haughtily.
How about Semile,said Stan.Though it has no letter b in it, he brooded
They all pondered quietly as the sun shone in through the window and made a lovely lacy pattern on the wall.
In came Mary,Stan’s sweet old wife and his computer aided extension too.
You are very quiet,she murmured.What’s going on here ?
We are tring to find a new name for Emile,Stan told her as Sybael waved her wings about.
It seems very draughty in here,Mary said.And Emile can’t change his name because it will change his personality.
I didn’t know I had a personality,the little cat purred noisily.
It is what is most characteristic of you.For example, if you always hurt those you love then you have a cruel personality or you have got diabetes.Some people want love but they are too harsh and demanding.
So true,Stan added pensively as he thought back over his life.
Anyway,I have some awfully strange news,Mary went on.
You just won’t believe this but Dorothy Grey who lives at the bottom of the hill has just had a heart attack.
How come
She had an online love relationship with a rather peculiar but intriguing and clever elderly man who turned out to be a sadist in disguise.So when she ended it he flew over and attacked her with an air gun and some cat’s claws which he had bought from a cat market
Is he a wizard,asked Emile.
No, he flew on a stolen magic carpet from Persia.
Persian carpets,I’d love one here said the cat greedily
Actually it’s a kind of plane,said Stan. knowledgeably
How boring ,said Mary angrily.
Anyway Dorothy was so shocked her arteries spasmed and she is in A and E now on morphine,she added…
What a shame that she got that instead of a spasm elsewhere….Stan muttered thinking of Freud and fountain pens.
But who’d have sex with such a horrible old man? Mary asked in puzzlement.
An equally horrible old woman,maybe? Stan riposted laughing.
Any way it all goes to show the dangers of online love, he informed the room.
It’s not real love,is it, because in real love the other person is as important to you as yourself.Mary said theologically.
Well. now Eros is a kind of love,too.But many old men just want their washing done and a companion.Eros has departed from their world.
Sybael smiled and then flew out of the window.
What was that noise, said Mary anxiously.
Just an angel’s wings,said Stan quietly
If only Dorothy had seen an angel instead of that harsh old man she might be much better now.Mary mused.
But not everyone can see them.Their world seems full of horrible old men and beautiful young women
Emile winked at Stan and then ran out to chase a butterfly amongst the scented tulips.. there were lots of angels there every day but only he knew that.
Angels don’t like big modern cities but they like old abbeys and cathedrals and moorlands and mountains and places where such things used to be before post modernist architecture took over.
And cat’s claws are not meant for scratching your loved ones either.And online dating should be avoided except with atheists and agnostics.They are less judgemental about women’s place and roles.It’s strange how harsh many religious people are.Harsh and unforgiving.Very strange it is,thought Stan as he boiled the teapot on the stove.
Let’s all have a nice cup of tea,he murmured.Angels too.

Mary’s clothes and songs

http://youtu.be/IEVow6kr5nI

http://youtu.be/m5TwT69i1lU

Just before Stan’s funeral a heatwave began.Mary realised her outfit, which her sister had kindly chosen was too heavy for summertime.
She called into a small department store full of delightful garments.Unfortunately most were more suitable for a nightclub than a chapel.A black dress caught her eye.It had a somewhat low neckline which was decorated with a deep gold band.
Mary decided it was more suitable for Queen Cleopatra than a British woman.After a few minutes she found a lovely thin black jacket and a long drapey skirt.She rewarded herself with a large cup of coffee and observed the scene around.
Many of the women were wearing the dresses Mary had thought were for dancing and nightclubs while the rest wore jeans with T shirts saying:
No Size Fashion
or
Free women now!

Stop staring!

Most of the women were rather plump so their busts stuck out with the words going up and down some invisible contour lines across the small mountain range their bosoms resembled.No wonder when the counter in the cafe was stacked with almond and chocolate croissants.Definitely an occassion of sin and for sin.
The next morning Mary showed her new outfit to Annie who had called to help her.
You can’t wear that,Annie screeched musically .The skirt is blue!
Well if it is it is dark blue,Mary cried.It looked black in the shop to me.
You will have to go back and change it.And you must buy some makeup too..
What,for a funeral?
Yes,said Annie who was wearing pink and purple eyeshadow from Pax Wacter combined with sun protective foundation by Minxette in deep beige.Her lashes were dyed purple and her brows had been groomed in a way which gave the impression she was constantly in a state of severe surprise or shock.Her thick juicy lips were painted a lurid orange from Revlon of Timbuctoo and Shanghai which meant that any man who kissed her would never be able to conceal their sin from their wives or partners.How hard life can be at times.Or even all the time for some of us.
You must dress entirely in black and it will make you look pale but don’t worry you can have some of my makeup

Will the colour suit me,asked Mary plaintively.

I think you can wear any colour now your hair has gone that horrible shade of pale.
You are a bit rude,Mary said but I can take the hint.

http://youtu.be/Mb3iPP-tHdA
After Annie left Mary phoned an old friend of hers and asked him what he thought of her clothes problem.
Black and blue will look very good,he told her.As long as it’s dignified and dark the colour is immaterial.
That’s nice,Mary thought,as she hated shopping and was unsure how much income she would have as a widow

Being practical a dark blue skirt is something a woman can wear any time whereas black is not so good in the daytime unless you are a business woman.
Mind you,after you visit any town centre in Britain you will see sights of women in strange and tight clothing that will both amuse and appall you though most of us are used to it now,I expect.
My goodness, Mary said to herself,what hard work it is losing a husband.I should have hired a boat and thrown him into the sea or even buried him in the back garden.That would have been better than all this kerfuffle.So she decided to turn her mind to higher things.

http://youtu.be/CZipvBo3_Z4

http://youtu.be/ihx5LCF1yJY

http://youtu.be/Pigh8VHr-ZE

I must admit to a confusion of the sublime and the ridiculous here but that is how it has been lately,including an ancient hymn being labelled as sexist.

Happenstance or even Serendipity?

Stan was reading the paper at 9 pm when the front door bell rang.Emile,his delightful tomcat who was asleep,nearly jumped out of his skin.Stan opened the front door cautiously.
“Goodnight,sir.” remarked the handsome man standing there. impassively
“Goodnight?”Said Stan confusedly,”But I’ve never seen you before.Are you the sandman who comes to put little children to sleep?”
“Good evening,sir.” the man continued,”I’m so sorry my English is so poor.I am , studying David McChrystal’s Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language and I’m still a trifle mystified.”
“What do you want?”Stan asked him.”What do I want? I want to study philosophy and write a novel like Iris Murdoch did ”
“No,no.” said Stan” I mean,why are you here ?”
“A good question,why are we here? Do we have a mission in life or are we here as a result of mere chance and happenstance or even serendipity ?”
“I mean,why are you here ringing my doorbell at this time of the night?”
“Shouldn’t that be evening,sir?” The stranger enquired sardonically yet politely.
“Look.are you after something?”
“Well,I’m after getting people to go to church or other place of worship.”
“Are you partly Irish?”Stan asked him plaintively.
“What’s happening,”called Mary from her study where she was reading a critique of Principia Mathematica for the seventeenth time.
“God only knows!” said Stan.
Mary came to the front door.She wore a green silk blouse with a jade necklace, a pair of smart jeans from Per Una and some pink trainers with yellow laces.On her face she wore Lancome of Paris light beige foundation,strawberry pink lipstick and purple mascarafrom Clinique.Her perfume was by Beyonce.
“Goodnight,madam” said the stranger.
“I think that’s rude,” said Mary.”If you’ve never met someone before it’s inappropriate to say goodnight.”
“Well,you aren’t in bed,” he replied laboriously.
“What has that got to do with it?”
“Inappropriate is often used to refer to sexual behaviour.”
“Well,who are you?” she whispered politely.
“I’m the new curate!””I’m Polish and I’m here ”
“Well,I’m sorry I don’t know a single word of Polish.would you like to speak in Latin?”
“Ite,missa est!”The curate exclaimed.
“Uno reductio ad absurdum”Stan muttered seductively.
“That’s Italian,UNO” cried Mary shyly.
“Well,it’s pretty similar.” Stan shouted romanically
“Well,I must go,”said the curate amxiously.
“You’ve not been yet so how can you go?” Mary asked mathematically
“I don’t know,sir.Good evening,good afternoon,good morning.”the red faced man screamed as he ran hurriedly down the garden path.
“Are we Catholics ?”Mary asked Stan.
“Oh,I can’t remember,” he said.”Do we go to any church,synagogue or mosque?”
“Well,we may be non-practising at it all ,I suppose.”
“Perhaps we’d better start practising,” he murmured affectionately.
“Oh,if you insist,” she replied in an un-wifely roguish tone.
“That’s right,blame it all on the man.In my experience it’s you who is keener than me on all of that.”
“What are you talking about?”she enquired seductively.
Suddenly the door bell rang.It was the curate.
“Goodnight” he called.”goodnight”
“Goodnight, old man” they responded in their reserved English fashion.
“Mioaw” cried Emile,”Mioaw,miaow,miaow.
And so pray all of us.Amen

Stan falls in love with his cat

Stan fell asleep in front of the roaring fire.Emile lay across his lap.Emile was so limp he looked like a wet towel casually over the old man’s knees.It was Stan’s birthday but no party had been arranged.He was struck that Mary had not baked a cake..nor even bought one at the Co-op.
That was no surprise really as he did all the cooking including Bakewell tarts and Xmas cake,He was a versatile man who could also mend old radios and fix clocks that were stuck one time….usually th wrong one!
He also spent quite a lot of time giving statistics lessons to pensioners and making love with his blonde and busty mistress,Annette who lived next door.
He decided that being so near her was a big advantage given his age.
Suddenly he was awakened by chuckles and giggles,There were Mary and Annette holding a big iced cake and a pot of tea.The doorbell rang and in came all Stan’s friends from his Art class.Mary produced sandwiches and pork pies,sausage rolls and potato cakes.
How did you do this ?,he enquired dazedly.
We did it all in Annette’s oven.She has two so it was quite easy.
Mary was not jealous of Annette for Mary would rather read Principia Mathematica than go to bed with Stan.Apparently she was mildly autistic but she was happy doing maths as many of her co-workers had the same syndrome.
She did have one daughter whom she found hidden in a gooseberry bush in the garden.This was enough for Stan as he was 92.But luckily he did have a good gold plated pension of £390.09 per month.
Everyone was having a fabulous time until Anne tried to light the candles on the cake.No matches could be found.
Ring 999,Stan called childishly.Mary obeyed and soon the ambulance drew up.In ran Dave the paramedic.
Is it your chair? he enquired wildly.
No,it’s this cake.We can’t light the candles on it.Shall we douse it in petrol?We have a jerry can full of it in the spare room.
That is very dangerous,he shouted.
Well,we are old now and need the car badly.Risk assessment gave us evens on the odds.Dave produced a silver lighter and lit the candles.Then he conducted them all as they sang,”Happy Birthday” to Stan.Stan managed to blow out 90 candles before passing out on the rug.
Well,at least he didn’t break the chair,Mary said philosophically.
I wish he had,said Dave.I’ve got some superglue here.
Well,we do have a wardrobe that’s falling apart.would you like to mend it?
Sure,he replied gratefully.This is why we have the NHS!
We are here for you 24/7
Or come to A and E if you get a mouth ulcer or a cold sore.No problem is too small!

Stan came to on the rug with Emile beside him.He gazed deeply into the cat’s green eyes.
I think I’ve fallen in love with you,he informed the Emile.
Will you sleep with me and let Mary have your basket.
Are we engaged,said Emile.
Definitely,said Stan.I’ll get you a golden collar with diamonds on it.
When shall we be married?
As soon as it’s legal,Stan answered honestly.
In the meantime,we’ll have to live in sin.
Then he fell asleep again with Emile in his arms.
What a lovely picture, cried the ladies.
Look at this.What a happy sight.
What love,what devotion.
How strange,what a commotion.
They’re in love,what emotion.
Don’t tell the Pope,we need caution

Mary’s holiday

Mary woke up with a start,to see the big holly tree swinging from side to side in the wind.She was sleeping on the living room floor in a sleeping bag.As she had not been on holiday she had decided to pretend she was on a camping trip.The weather was so unstable,to risk putting up the tent was not an idea she spent much time dwelling on or with.

Emile strolled into the room and jumped onto her large and supine body.Good morning, he cried loudly.

For goodness sake,Emile,please don’t shout.I feel fragile when I waken up.I am wondering if the idea of camping at home is a mistake.For one thing,you would not be with me if I went to North Wales.And so I could lie peacefully until I decided to get dressed.But then I might miss you.

I’d miss you,mewed Emile.Can I not come with you when you go hill walking? I promise not to run away.Unless we see a tyger of wrath or a Chesire Cat.

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We’ll have to see,Mary told him,her eyes gleaming like floodlit lapis lazuli. in the night.I didn’t know you liked Blake’s poetry.Neither does he Emile replied languidly.

Mary struggled up and went to the bathroom for a quick shower.I suppose it is more comfortable camping at home,she said to Stan who was hovering over her head like a large hornet looking for its nest as she wrapped a robe around her generous body

I don’t mind where you are ,he replied honestly.But if you were in Wales it would be hard for Dave to come to help you out.

So true,she answered casually.I’d better get dressed now.I’ll see you later,Stan.Mary ate her breakfast on a rug on the lawn in her nightdress..This saved her sweeping the crumbs up in the house or spilling food onto her clothes..She then decided to go to Bicester Shopping Village as that is what she used to do on holiday with Stan in former years.Stan was puzzled by why she wanted to shop.The thing was she preferred quality clothes and could not afford them in the department store in Knittingham.In Bicester they had last year’s clothes for half price.Or even clothes from 2 or 3 years ago.

She put on a long tweed skirt and a pink striped jumper over her bright blue roll neck top.On her feet she put soft blue suede boots.This wearing of boots at home dated back to the time when hse lived in a house with no bathroom and the lavatory was by the back gate.It had no light not lock but that was what people were used to then.

Sitting in the old green car,Mary watched her neighbour Tom cutting his hedge.Another job for her to do or to arrange,or was she going to become one of those people whose front gates fell off and hedges grew to trees after they suffered a bereavement?Not to mention those men who never change the pillow cases after their wives die.

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She drove away slowly deciding to go to a Garden Centre instead of clothes shopping.After all who would see her clothes now?As long as she had a decent winter coat that would cover up her moth eaten knitted merino wool skirts and trousers and her over tight jumpers.Why not buy some flowers like crocuses and daffodils in pots to put in the hall and living room to bring her back to the reality of life on earth?They were just as real as the horrors of war and troubled nations.What could Mary do to help?She might have worked as code breaker when young but her eyes were no longer good enough.

Mary rang 999 at tea time.Can you send Dave round.My new plants look a bit unhealthy.And ask him to buy some milk on the way,please.Make it quick as I need a nice cup of tea made the way he does it.Thank you.Maybe I’ll phone Annie,she murmured before humming Nessun Dorma to herself.I wonder if I could write lyrics for a pop star,she thought pensively.Or buy a guitar and sing my own songs.Is the guitar hard to learn,she pondered.Maybe it’s good for the fingers.But the neighbours might not like it.A violin would be even worse!

Stan goes for therapy

Stan is feeling low and sad.

His good wife Mary has gone mad.

Stan is feeling Guilt and Fear

He knows now that it’s wrong to leer.

Stan has been a naughty boy.

He let a mistress with him toy.

But Mary found his mobile phone

When she was at home all alone.

His mistress lived next door to him

Which made it convenient to sin.

While Mary worked hard teaching maths

The lovers lingered in the bath.

He was meant to do the chores.

Chopping wood and painting doors.

He had to bake the cakes and bread.

So that the household would be fed.

But Stan into temptation fell,

As did his neighbour Anne as well.

They enjoyed kisses and hugs,

And lying down in woolly rugs.

Oh Mary, she was most appalled.

She screamed and yelled and cried and bawled.

So Stan has gone for therapy.

What sort of changes will he see?

He lies down on a long brown couch.

Behind which the therapist crouched.

He says to Stan,”now let it rip.

I want your mouth to be unzipped.”

Was your mother kind to you?

Did she train you on the loo?

Did she wash your mouth with soap?

Was she prone to sulk and mope?

Stan thought this man verbose.

So he kept his own lips close.

When he got the bill to pay.

He told the therapist, “No way”

“You have been the one to talk.”

He glared like a crusading hawk.

“You should pay me,not I pay you!”

What was his therapist going to do!

“I’m glad you’ve managed to speak out.

Your sanity is not in doubt.

I’ll tear the bill up for this week.

And next time I want you to speak.”

So Stan unleashed his every thought

Just as the Freudians once taught.

I don’t know how he feels inside.

But language is a useful guide.

And as he sees his therapist,

His mistress is not greatly missed.

He wanted more attention,

So now his bad ways are all gone!

He got a part time job as well.

So he could pay his therapy bill.

Mary is still teaching maths.

And now it’s she with whom he baths!

Stan meets another woman

Stan had just got back to his lovely home after a ride on his mountain bike. Emile had travelled in his special cat seat/basket just in front of Stan as he liked to see the road less traveled should it appear..and he liked purr to encourage Stan to ride further.WhenStan got home to his luxuriously detached yet bijou dwelling he went to the wonderful disappointing cloakroom to wash his paws before putting the kettle on for some tea.
Ah,how peaceful it is here,he thought…,how nice Mary is still at work.
Suddenly, and alarmingly, the door bell rang.There,on the flower bedecked porch,stood a large, beautiful curly haired woman holding Emile in her pretty freckled arms
I believe this is your cat,she said boldly.So he tells me.Why, he even knows the address.
Well,if he’s anyone’s ,he’s mine,Stan admitted uneasily.What has he done now?
Did you not notice he jumped out of his basket?she asked enquiringly.
Well,no,Stan answered furtively..I was getting a bit tired and keen to get home…I forgot my water,
Well,I hope you won’t let him do it again,he could end up absconding,
By the way,I’m called Yvette.
Are you Yvette Cooper,the MP,he enquired wildly.
No, she said,I’m Yvette Hooper,the swan lover.
Do come in for a cup of tea,he said caringly.
I don’t mind if I do,she said,then I can be sure your cat is alright.
Tell me,Stan said,Do you live with a swan?
No,she said,though I do have an old Swan saucepan.
A saucepan is not much company,Stan responded.
Well,at least it never shouts at me!Yvette said quickly.
Have you suffered verbal abuse? Stan said in a kind and supportive voice.
I have, yes.We had a mutual agreement that I could be handcuffed and verbally amused for 3 hours a week.you see we’d read this book,”Fifty shades of grey.”It’s all about human bondageBut my boyfriend thought it was verbal abuse I wanted..As I was upside down I couldn’t tell him of his error.After that things were never the same.
Why did you have the handcuffs?asked Stan calmly.
We were given them for Xmas,she whispered.Also a whip and some rubber gloves.Why the rubber gloves?For washing up of course!
But after being whipped would you feel like washing up?
I don’t know.We split up before we even tried the whip… to be honest,I didn’t want to use it.
Alright, my dear.I understand it all.
Here you are.. drink a nice cup of tea and try these biscuits I made myself they are almond biscuits from my Penguin Jewish cookery book.
Mmmm,delicious,she cried.Are you Jewish,Stan?
No,but why should they have all the best recipes?
A good point… maybe because they had almost the first alphabet so began to write them down before anyone else could.
Not to mention they invented monogamy,a great religion,Freud,Wittgenstein,Einstein,rhinestone
.Give them an accolade. I mean,Jesus Christ!What more do they have to do to be rewarded?
Ascend into heaven?
Make more cheesecakes?
I wonder,said Stan pondering slowly over this issue.

The back door opened and in ran Annie,Stan’s mistress.
She was dressed in soft teal with toning turquoise trainers and she wore a light beige foundation with bright coral lipstick making a subtle contrast to her peachy skin… all by Lam-com of China.

Oh,Anne,have some tea.This is Yvette,she very kindly rescued Emile after he jumped off my bike.
Don’t tell me he can ride a bike now , Anne screamed,showing off a good set of teeth and a long red tongue.
No,I was riding it.Stan told her sensibly.Calm down.
Hello Yvette,Anne said,where do you live?
I live on the top road by the wood.Yvette answered politely, her auburn hair standing up in a mass off curls as she spoke,showing off to good effect her light orange lipstick and burnt sienna eye shadow…in fact it was color from her art materials..
Have you been there long?Anne enquired politely and warmly.
No,only a few weeks..we don’t know anyone..
So you are married?
Yes,my new husband is in the Police Service… he cleans policemen for special occasions.
I didn’t know anyone did that.Can’t they clean themselves?A self cleaning policeman…or how about putting coat of Teflon on them so they can be wiped with a wet cloth?
It’s up to him,said Yvette.I am a lecturer at Pond’s End Polytechnic.I teach philosophy..
In a poly?
Yes,I have a D.Phil from Oxgridge in the philosophy of science with particular reference to Dirac’s remarks on Wittgenstein.
Do they study such remarks in a poly?
All the students do Philosophy of Science…it’s compulsory.
Stan said,I wish they all did Peace Studies too…
I know,said Yvette kindly..If only we could bring peace but we are descended from the most aggressive primates…why many of them were sado-masochists.Well some were sadists and the rest were masochists I gather.The ones who weren’t died out as they never mated..
Well,I’m not a sadist,said Stan,or at least only to myself!
Do you beat yourself up,the ladies asked.
Just in my mind,he answered judiciously.

So do I thought Yvette.
Let’s have some more tea,called Anne from the hall,I’ll make it.

tea
Anne is my mistress,Stan boasted humbly……
There was little point trying to seduce Yvette now Anne had met her and vice versa.
Yvette was intrigued.That is rare ,for such an old man to have a mistress.
Is a wife not sufficient for you?
A wife is necessary but not sufficient,Stan teased her.
Well,my husband has no mistress, she said unknowingly,
but I have several boyfriends.
How do you get the time?
I have a rota,she chuckled happily.
You seem an intriguing lady.May I have your email address,mobile number and your landline?
Your height and weight too..clothes size and shoes too.What colour is your nightgown?I beg your pardon.I have got rude with age!
Be quiet ,you little sweetheart.It’s
yvette999@hotmail.com
or diracisme@qmail.com
My phone number is Oh,oh,6666666666666.7777777777777777………………..
That’s irrational,he informed her knowingly.
Have you got an i Pad,she then asked boldly.
No,I’ve not even got a Kindle..do you recommend them.Maybe you could come to ComputersRus with me on Saturday.
No, she said,I’m Jewish.
Are Jews not permitted to visit Computer shops.Some religious edict,is it? he said inquisitively.
It’s the Sabbath,you dimwit,she responded.We don’t shop on the Sabbath but don’t worry I’ll come on Monday with you..you are a charming man.I need as many as I can get.
Why are you deficient in some way?Stan whispered.
No,I’m very proficient and mildly conceited,she admitted modestly.
And I like a good kisser.Are you a good kisser?Can you make out?That’s American for kissing.
Well,maybe you could give me a test,he said manfully,
and if need be you can give me some lessons followed by a total Examination to see if I satisfy you.
Just then Anne came in with fresh tea..
Emile mewed loudly.
What is it.Emile ? Stan asked.
I am jealous because we cats can’t kiss.
Well kissing is neither necessary nor sufficient in the art of love.Rolling about together in some soil is also very nice..
I hope you don’t expect your wife to roll about in soil,said Yvette
questioningly..
Well,I can ask her,Stan said,but her main interest is topology and knitting.She is often very cold in bed.
Can’t you warm her into life;Or buy an electric blanket?
No,she’s hopeless because of a type of Asperger’s syndrome but I love her anyway.
Have you tried a new technique like whipping each other or tying yourself to the bedposts.You can buy handcuffs now in Boots,I hear.
Why some doctors prescribe them on the NHS nowadays
I thought Love was enough, Stan answered
It seems in the UK people are into whips and handcuffs…
Well,count me out,said Stan,I’m more into a careful yet tender study of the skin from the toes right up to to head,followed by gazing into her eyes for ten minutes.
Why ten minutes?asked Yvette.
I can’t wait any longer
Well,you’ll have to practise..she said coyly.
I can practise with him,said Anne virtuously.
Yes,the more the better…he’s getting older so he can’t wait.
He needs satisfaction and love as soon as possible.
The door bell rang,It was handsome Dave the paramedic.
Hi,he said,I was worried as you’ve not called 999 today.I brought a leash and some whips.
I’m Yvette,the woman said.
I’m bisexual,he told her.
That’s a strange name.
Never mind that,give me your email address and phone number
It’s ywoman@love4all.com,she said or 09964321.3333333333333333333…..
If you’d like a non rational phone number email me at
hotcats@hell.com

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Read more freely in the Daily Slur tomorrow….on sale everywhere and making life hell as fast as they can

Stan’s bike and Annie’s murder

Although Stan was 102, he still rode his bike locally in the summer time.He was out in the garden pumping up the tires before going off to the Library.Suddenly his neighbour Annie appeared at the gate, without him hearing her feet tapping on the path of red brick;she was bedecked in finest Scottish tweed with a long pendant on a solid 22 carat gold chain swinging nonchalantly from her neck, with a matching ring attached mysteriously to her upper lip.

“Who’re you, the Lady Mayoress” he joked.Where’s Mary?” she pointedly whispered.”She’s with her widowed sister Joan up in Scotland ” Stan admitted nervously, unsure of her reactions.”Joan, that’s not a very Scottish name!” Annie joked.” Anyway how about we sit down here on this bench for a moment”.She pulled him vigorously towards her.

Stan responded regretfully “I’m afraid I can’t stop.I have all these books overdue and the library shuts in 15 minutes.”Don’t worry, sweetheart”, she cried un-contemptuously.”I’ll pay all your fines.I’ve just come into loads and loads of money.”
“Oh, how’s that.my angel” Stan murmured. “I shot Bert.If you help me to get rid of the evidence, I’ll share the loot with you.”

At the funeral, Annie was dressed in a beautiful dark brown suit with a black trim from Jaeger.She went around the room making sure everyone had enough food and drink.As she leaned over towards Stan her heavy gold locket, inside which was hidden the bullet that killed Bert, swung over and hit Stan a glancing blow on the temple.
Stan fell to the ground.”Do you think we should ring 999?” someone asked sarcastically.Within minutes, paramedics arrived.
“So, is it that chair again?” they clamoured.”Yes, this foolish old man fell over and the leg came off my brand new antique chair.I’ve only had it a few days and it’s not insured.”

“Did anyone ever tell you, your eyes are like deep pools in the Saragossa Sea?” Dave, the paramedic whispered into her right ear.
“Have you still not finished that Creative Writing Course?” Annie shouted.””I’m getting tired of you admiring my eyes.What about my nose?””

“Has anyone ever told you, your nose is the shortest they’ve ever seen?”

“That’s a bit boring” Annie retorted.”Yeah, maybe I should change to Art,” he ruefully moaned.”I love the way your deep blue and turquoise eye shadow is melting around your eyes and running down the sides of your nose.”
“Hurry up and fix my chair, and while you’re about it, you may as well take Stan down to A and E for a head X-ray.”
Glancing furtively at Annie in her Jaeger suit with carefully contrasting deep coral blouse and opaque teal blue 80 denier tights with 6 inch stiletto heels to complete the outfit, not to mention her raspberry coloured bra which clashed violently with the coral blouse [which alas was more transparent than she realised], he picked up a hammer and began,excitedly,to mend the broken chair.”This is what life is all about, my boy” he thought.One day I will be just where I should be.Right here.With her,alone!

Stan was polishing the door knocker with Duraglit.

Mary was upstairs working at her desk reading an article on algebraic numbers and sorting out her post.

She got an instant message from a former colleague in the math Department.

Hi,Mary. how are you?

I’m fine, Tim.How are you?

Well,I really miss the department!

I’m sorry.

Actually Mary, it’s you I miss.

But you hardly ever spoke to me.

No, but iI looked at you.You are very beautiful.

Well, you are very handsome,yourself

You know what I’d like?

No.

I’d like a photo of you in your underwear.

I haven’t got any photos

Can’t you get some?

Well, I suppose i could use my webcam and photograph my top half.

Oh. how nice!

Then I guess I could sit on the photocopier and photograph my bottom
but I don’t think I can do them both at once.

How about you go to a pool in a bikini

I don’t wear a bikini.

I don’t mind if you are nude!

Well,I am a bit startled by this.I thought all we shared was an interest in quadratic forms and Euclidean post-structuralism.

Well, I’ve moved on to your form, Mary.

Really; do you know I have a mild type of Asperger’s Syndrome?

I thought he looked lonely.

Do you know him?

Not in the Biblical sense! Just to speak to.

I thought he was dead.

Not at all…he’s turned into a parrot.Meanwhile how about some minimalist photos?

No, you’ll have to meet me in Cafe Zero.

Which one?

In Knittingham.

Will I recognize you by the bikini?

Why do you like bikinis so much?

I’ll see what my therapist thinks.

I want to know what you think.

I love you, Mary.

Well, since Stan has Annie I guess I can have coffee with you.

.
Then we can discuss Platonic forms.

While I look at your form.

Is that my Health Form?

No, your bodily form.

I have no body now!

What happened?

I’ve been downloaded into the new computer.

I thought your voice sounded odd.

Shall I email myself as an attachment to you?

I’d like to think about that.

Well.goodbye Tim.

Goodbye, you little minx.

A minx…whatever next?

Bring me your minx ,dill, dilly

Bring me your inks

when I’m in love, dilly, dilly,

I ache for those links.

Emile’s flu jab

The cat is watching you

Stan realized it was time for Emile to have his annual flu jab.He stopped polishing the windows and picked up the phone.

Hello,it’s Stan Tan here.Can I make an appointment for Emile?
Yes, come today if Emile has had a bath.
Are you joking?
Yes, the receptionist responded cheerfully.
Actually he did have a bath and now can swim breaststroke!
How amazing, she said sweetly.
Stan got out Emile’s travelling basket.He put some copies of The Independent inside
in case Emile was bored.
Here,Emile,I’m taking you for a ride in the car.kindly step into your basket,
Can’t I sit by you and wear a seat belt?
I fear it’s illegal,old boy.
OK,granddad,Emile answered jauntily.He climbed into the basket and sat up staring out boldly with his great amber eyes.
The doorbell rang.
Hello,Annie,Would you like to come to the vet’s with us?
She looked down at her violet velvet track suit and purple trainers with real gold laces.
Yes,I’ll sit in the back with Emile if you are ok with that

He fell in love with the cat: a short sweet story
After ten minutes they arrived and parked the car under an elm tree.Stan carried the basket steadily not wanting the poor cat to fall in an undignified manner,Annie looked at her green nails.
Do you like my nail varnish,Stan?
To be honest,I prefer shell pink.
Why is that,darling?
It is more feminine.
Feminine!But you can see I’m feminine!
I like you to be even more feminine.
Oh,yes ,agreed Emile, So do I.
You men,she cried sweetly, you are never satisfied.
I wouldn’t say that,my America,my Newfoundland!
What’s up? Swallowed the dictionary,she said rudely
It’s a poem, actually.
You’ve been reading again.It’s bad for you.
Don’t you like to be my new found land?
A bit late to ask now, she murmured seductively.
The next moment they were in the empty waiting room.Then a man came in with a big black dog.Emile stared fiercely and the dog whimpered and lay down on the floor.
The vet came out and asked Stan to bring Emile in.Emile gave a yell at the dog before Stan shut the door.So, said the beautiful young vet, how is pussy today.
Emile remained silent.He’s fine,just needs his flu jab.muttered Stan.
Come now,Emile come out of there.But Emile was clinging to his basket with ll his sharp claws.
Are you afraid Emile?He asked kindly
No,I’m not afraid, I’m just acting how vets expect cats to act.
So Emile speaks English?
He knows French too.
Je t’aime Emile.
Bedankt, madame.
Stop showing off and get out of there,she doesn’t speak Dutch.
Mein mutter wast immer krank,cried Emile.
Get out now!
Emile came out slowly and stood by this good lady.She looks a bit like Annie, he whispered.
The vet took out a small needle and swiftly injected Emile.
What a good boy, she sang,would you like a jelly baby?
A jelly baby!Cats don’t eat jelly babies!
Well, have a go!
Emile stalked back to his basket,put on some glasses and began to read the editorial in The Independent.
Stan was hoping to make a suggestive remark to the vet,but Annie came in.
Hurry up, there’s a thunderstorm coming.Her nails were now pink.
Did you change your nail varnish?
No,the green was artificial nails!I took them off.
Can I have some claw varnish,demanded Emile plaintively
What color?
I fancy teal,Emile miaowed.
Teal!How ludicrous!
What about red?
Too pretentious.
I don’t think I’ll bother then, the cat said languidly
We men don’t have to bother about such things.
Well, you are lucky, said Annie.
I hate makeup and nail varnish, blow dries and manicures but I don’t feel feminine without it.
You feel very feminine to me said Stan, running his hand softly along her forearm
and patting her behind!
Stan!Not here in the road!
Why not?enquired Emile.It looks ideal to me if you go behind those bushes.
Annie jumped into the car and drove away leaving Stan to carry Emile to the bus stop for a tedious journey home.Then she reappeared,opened the door and said,come

Come on now let’s all go home.I’m sorry I drove away.I’m feeling a bit blue today.
They got in and arrived safely home where Stan brewed a big pot of tea and let Annie sit on the sofa with her feet on a soft cushion.He rubbed her head gently.

Lovely,she purred.
I like having my head stroked.So do I,said Emile loudly but alas they were too busy to hear or care.So Emile fell asleep and dreamed he was only a character in a story but it was better than non-existence.

Or Jesus won’t half give a spank.

Pray Father, give me your blessing

To my peccadilloes, I am now confessing.

Please name them in rank,

From a theft to a wank.

Or Jesus won’t half you en- spank.

Beg pardon, dear Father,I’m shocked

To hear the Lord’s name being mocked.

Well, we’re now up to date

So got on with it, mate.

Or who knows what will be your fate!

All right then I stole my wife’s purse.

I also indulged in a curse.

Why, where is your own money?

I have not got any!

I work hard but I buy myself honey,

Is honey a euphemism then?

No I buy the Manuka when

I get bronchitis

Or bad tonsillitis

Surely that is never a sin?

Well all in proportion, dear friend

You need to earn more than you spend.

I see that is logical,

Almost a thimbleful

.But applying it sent me round the bend

But how about priests like yourself?

They are not meant to accrue any wealth.

Well that is the theory

But, cripes,holy Mary.

Some of us do it by stealth.

Well, how about absolving me now?

I do repent fully and how!

Your penance is this:

Give Facebook a miss.

And earn more money somehow.

Stan and Mary meet the postman

Stan was brushing his sturdy tomcat Emile by the front window when he saw the postman coming up the path.This was a surprise as it was eight o’clock in the evening,though it was still quite light.He opened the door.
Goodness me,they are making you work hard” he murmured sympathetically to the weary looking postman.
Well,if I don’t do what they want there are 2.5 million unemployed people out there all seeking work” he said in a deep guttural voice.
I like your beard,cried Emile.And your moustache.
Do you like my new hat, asked the postman politely.
Yes,very much said the little cat.
Well,I have to wear it as I am a Conservative Jew.
I have never been quite sure what a Conservative Jew is,said Stan
And I have never been sure why the Church of England is international ,replied the tired man.
Neither have I, said Stan.It seems illogical.
He gave the postman some tea in a paper cup so he could drink it before he went any further.
Can I use your bathroom,he called to Stan who was admiring a few early daffodils.
Of course you can… it’s just at the top of the stairs.
When Arthur the postman came out he thanked Stan
Nowadays since all the public conveniences are no longer there it’s hard to find a lavatory and when you work a 12 hour day you do get to need a leak.
Yes,said Stan.I frequently have people using the loo…. or failing that you can go behind the hedge.
Just like me,thought Emile.I often go behind the hedge.I also take lady cats right to the back of the hedge for the purpose of lovemaking.
Have you ever made love under a hedge,Emile asked Arthur.
Or is it forbidden by your Mosaic Law?
Well,said Arthur, we can make love anywhere at all.But we have to be sure it is real love and not just us pretending to love someone in order to get something out of them.
That seems wise, said Stan.You seem a really wise man.
Yes,I did do a lot of studying till I lost my job as a University lecturer and had to work as a postman.But it does give me time to meditate.
And what is your advice to other humans, purred Emile.
Well, I’ll just offer you one thought ,Don’t exploit others for self gratification and if you feel suicidal please tell someone or phone the Samaritans.
And if you do go ahead I advise you to burn your diaries,letters and other private writing…look at poor Sylvia Plath,How could she have been so stupid. Everything she ever wrote,even on the paper napkin at dinner was collected and published by her almost ex-husband.We seem to know more about her than anyone who ever lived.
You have a good point there, said Stan.
I work for the Samaritans one day a week and Emile sits by me and purrs to keep me happy.
You seem a good man, said Arthur.Then all of a sudden he disappeared… leaving just a smile in the air like the Chesire Cat.
Oh,my sweet Lord,Stan murmured.Was that who I think?
Yes,said Emile.I saw the heavenly host behind him singing
Why did he call here?
We’ll just have to wait and see… but I shall cut up my diary tomorrow and delete my journal from the computer.I don’t want to cause scandal after I die.
No,said Emile, just cause scandal while you are alive by taking yet another mistress.
You little devil,Said Stan
And then Stan and Emile both chuckled as they went back into the house.And Stan resumed brushing Emile and mused over the visitation whilst forgetting he had not cooked the dinner for his hardworking wife Mary.Luckily Mary was always patient,

Mary buys an outfit

Just before the date of Stan’s funeral a new heatwave began.Mary realised her outfit which her sister had thoughtfully chosen was much too heavy.And she didn’t want to pass out.So she called into a small department store full of delightful garments.Unfortunately most were more suitable for a nightclub than a chapel.A black dress caught her eye.It had a somewhat low neckline which was decorated with a deep gold band.

Mary decided it was more suitable for Queen Cleopatra than a British woman.After a few minutes she found a lovely thin black jacket and a long drapy skirt.She rewarded herself with a large cup of coffee and observed the scene.

Many of the women were wearing the dresses Mary had thought were for dancing and nightclubs while the rest wore jeans with T shirts saying:No size Fashion or Free women now!Most were rather plump so their busts stuck out with the words going up and down some invisible contour lines across the small mountain range their bosoms resembled.No wonder when the counter in the cafe was stacked with almond croissants.Definitely an occassion of sin and for sin. P1000179 4

The next morning Mary showed her new outfit to Annie.

You can’t wear that,Annie screeched in a womanly way.That skirt is blue!

Well if it is ,it is dark blue,Mary cried.It looked black in the shop to me

You will have to go back and change it.And you must buy some makeup too..

What,for a funeral? Mary murmured guilelessly

Yes,said Annie who was wearing pink and purple eyeshadow from Pax Wacter combined with sun protective foundation by Minxette in deep cool beige.Her lashes were dyed purple and her brows had been groomed in a way which gave the impression she was constantly in a state of severe surprise or shock.

Her thick juicy lips were painted a lurid orange from Revlon of Timbuctoo and Shanghai which meant that any man who kissed her would never be able to conceal their passion from their wives or partners.How hard life can be at times.Or even all the time

.You must dress entirely in black for the funeral and it will make you look pale but don’t worry you can have some of my makeup

Will the colour suit me,asked Mary plaintively.

I think you can wear any colour now your hair has gone that shade of pale like Helen Mirren’s is.

You are a kind in a rude way,Mary responded ,but I take the hint.

After Annie left Mary phoned an old friend of hers and asked him what he thought of her clothes problem.

Black and blue will look very good,he told her.As long as it’s dignified and dark the colour is immaterial.Don’t think about ir

That’s nice,Mary thought,as she hated shopping and was unsure how much income she would have as a widow.

Being practical a dark blue skirt is something a woman can wear any time whereas black is not so good in the daytime nor in a nightdress either,she realised

If you visit any town centre in Britain you will see sights of women in strange and tight clothing that will both amuse and appal you though most of us are used to it now.I don’t know if men ever get used to it,

My goodness, Mary said to herself,what hard work it is losing a husband.I should have hired a boat and thrown him into Coniston Water.That would have been better than all this kerfuffle.Although the police might not like it.Still waters ruin sheep.though. 4666723_f520

Cubist collage by Kathryn Braithwaite.

Mary’s needles

On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-otherwise wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs he had bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself.
Now what shall I wear.? Stan thought over-anxiously.
He had O.C.D now and then… depending on what was happening in his lifw
People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense.
The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few colored shirts and one light teal colored jacket.
He chose a coral colored shirt and looked in the mirror..
I look wonderful, he thought very humbly.
Why has God kept me so youthful?
Surely not so I can seduce more women?
We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?
Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us.
More haste,less speed,he conjectured.
Or is it, More waste,less feeds?
He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush
He looked again narcissistically at his image.[I sure can spell.]
His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter.
His dark hair looked very full for his age.
His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner,
Jason Weizzmen-know-all
And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown.
His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham.

As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile
who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo!
Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely.
I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long,
If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop.
Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.
At least I don’t wear make up!
Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume?
Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.
More taste less greed.
What does that mean?asked Stan.
If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less.
Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop.
No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered.
I want to go high,high.
I want to reach the sky…hi.
what will I do when my love is away
Will I be happy on my own?
Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song
I’ll try not to sing out of tune!

My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you?
I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast.
Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.

At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready.
I wonder if I’ve got body dysmorphic syndrome,he conjectured emotionally
At the bus stop there stood Annie their neighbour.
Hi,Stan,where are you going.
I’m buying sewing needles for Mary.
I can lend her some,she shrieked.
Well,she has to use special ones nowadays.
Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?.
Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal.
Who is normal?
Let’s just assume we will recognise it when we see it,he whispered warningly.
This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt.
I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone?
Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them.
Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis,They should let them sleep here.They are so cruel.
Anne shouted in a fury.
No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded.
Very true,she replied,
As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it.
This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse?
A goat would be ok.

Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung..
Over the page to Fly.

Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick.
At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out,
You both look very merry!
Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warninigly.
Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated.
Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe?
Why? she murmured,I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully.
Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested.
Your wish is my command he muttered,
I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s on elsewhere.
He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again.
Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus.
As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back to the terminus.
But we want to go into town,every one howled.
There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver.
Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here.
Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver.
He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss.
Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress.
Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth?
I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time.
Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea.
Hello! said Mary.
Did you get my needles,Stan?
I’m so sorry,Mary.I’ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town.
And where is my supper.
I’m afraid it’s still in the womb of time!
I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast.
But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well.
So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were soon drifting into a light doze.Going down town is such hard work nowadays.

About these ads

Occasionally, so

The future is fiction

Exhilarate is derived from the tongue

Of the Romans to whom Latin belonged.

What a sad notion

That most are not taught it

It helps English acquisition along

However, the highest value today

Is whether a subject will pay.

Toddlers learn coding,

As computers are loading.

And learn not at all from their play.

Yet play is vital for satisfaction

To the sensuous world we interact in

And tots learn how to talk

Without much conscious thought.

So we can learn if the future is fiction.

Pi or Pie.Mary ponders..

Mary was getting dressed on a wet October morning.The cycling shorts she had never worn alone made a warm extra layer under her green cotton trousers.On top she wore a red tunic and also some green plastic earrings.

She saw Annie who had just rung the door bell

My goodness,Mary,you look different.Where on earth did you get those earrings? she said enviously

I made them, myself out of the littlrr tops of those plastic milk containers from the supermarket.

I say,you’re not that poor are you?Anne asked her kindly

It’s not what is real,it’s how you feel,Mary replied poetically as she sometimes enjoyed a bit of fun and teasing a friend gently.

No,said Annie it’s It’s not what you feel,it’s what is real.

And how do we know what is real?Mary asked her with deep curiosity her eyes glowing in a deep shade of teal blue.

Well,I know you had a reasonably good job so you must have more than just your state pension.You may be giving more than a tithe to Charity.Is that wise?

No,Mary cried,but I want to…I like to do it.

Oh,dear,Annie said.By the way you will need a coat,it’s much colder.I hope you’ve not given all your coats to Oxfam like Stan once did with his shoes.

Thanks,Mary smiled with her voice.I still have twenty two coats of all colours,A bit like Joseph in the Bible.

At the bus stop Mary met Tom who lived round the corner in a semi detached villa with a an extension,conservatory and downstairs shower room.He had fallen over again and bruised his face but still looked quite handsome with his dark hair and Irish eyes.

Maybe you need to pick up your feet more,Mary whispered to him .What a strange expression that is,.I wonder who invented it.It’s amazing how wise our ancestors were.They invented writing and cooking and philosophy.We are going backwards.

Thus Mary passed her day,talking to friends and musing on the meaning of words and sentences. and making herself jewellery from mundane objects she noticed on her walks.Not to mention cleaning the loo and putting all her old Xmas cards into bags for recycling.

Since from the natural numbers 1,2,3,4,…… we can get to the strange transcendental numbers pi and e and the fact that there are different orders of infinity does that prove God exists,she asked Tom plaintively.Well,not prove,but suggest.

I don’t know what you are on about,honey,he responded.Nobody ever saw pi in a burning bush although I have seen pies burn in a halogen oven more than twice

That is a totally different order of reality,she told him sweetly.

Wow,Mary, many men don’t like extremely clever women you know.

Which men are those ? she asked wonderingly, as her peaches and cream complexion glowed with health.

I suppose I don’t mind myself,he said,.it’s possibly because men need to feel superior otherwise they lose their confidence. and then they are in big troubleBut what about women’s confidence Tom reflected further.

Maybe women don’t need confidence so desperately much,Mary sighed.They looked at each other and smiled.The sun came out and the trees were glowing in red and gold as the bus came down the hill looking like some chariot from a myth as the sun hit the windows at an obtuse angle.

Annie’s new autumn outfit

Annie was getting ready to go out with Stan to a Wedding.She wore her newest Autumn/Winter clothes.On her lower half she wore a full,long snakeskin print skirt over a fifties style stiff petticoat whilst on her top half she wore a deep ochre boat necked jumper.Underneath her skirt a pair of chafe prevention shorts gave her extra warmth.She debated for a while about shoes and eventually decided her teal calf length boots from Hotters’ Sale with a pair of socks from Next would suffice,She looked in the mirror.Her freshly washed hair[ with a sulfate free shampoo ] sprang from her head not unlike one of the Gorgons’ distant relatives.

Picking up her full length leopard skin coat from Jacques Vert and her red handbag she ran to the door where Stan stood.He wore a machine washable suit from Marks and Spencer with a blue flowered shirt and striped multicoloured tie from TieRack .His short hair was covered by a woollen hat as they were going to a Jewish Wedding and he did not wish to offend anyone with his bald head.

How does my new makeup look asked Annie?

I can’t see it at all,Stan said shyly.Do I need my reading glasses?

It’s what they call the natural look,she replied.I have got on continuously creamy foundation in light beige over Clarins every day moisturiser and tjeir sunblock Factor 50.

It is so expensive that I can’t eat meat fo a month.

My goodness, Stan moaned.What shade is that lipstick?

It’s called Romantic Rose,she said .but it’s really more a light coral with a hint of red.

As for my eye makeup,it’s the usual purple mascara and teal eyeshadow.

Do you think coral and purple go together? said Stan querulously.

Never mind,she replied,I am more worried about my skirt.Is snakeskin a mistake at a Wedding ?

Oh,no,said Stan.It will remind people of Adam and Eve in Eden.And the snake is also a phallic symbol which seems good..I am just not sure about the leopardskin coat.

Don’t worry she replied I have got a plain dark brown coat in pure new wool here.Shall I wear that?

Stan sat down on a folding chair to wait for her to finish powdering her complexion with MaxFactor Creme powder and topping her lipstick with a thin coat of some preservative so that if she kissed anyone the lipstick would not bleed into the fine lines around her mouth.

Suddenly Stan’s chair folded up and threw him to the ground.

Is it broken ,he asked nervously from the doormat..

No, it’s ok.I don’t want to ring 999 now.Let’s see how it is when we get back.

Right,said Stan.Let’s go before any more chairs collapse or any paramedics arrive.

Modesty again

Stan and his sweet blonde girlfriend Anne were studying government data on inflation.He wanted to give a lecture for senior citizens.

Why are you wearing those smart wool trousers and black tights,darling? he enquired kindly.

Well,it’s the the fashion dear heart, and more modest than a mini skirt for if I bend over I’m protected.Her answer seemed ludicrous With her sweet bosom,hips and tight clothing it was hard for Anne to give any semblance of modesty.

Wouldn’t a maxi skirt be modest?I saw some in Marks last week.I bought one for Mary

Do you often buy her clothes? Annie asked with surprise.

She used to do it once …. but she stopped because she’s hopeless at dressing.She’go out in pyjamas left to herself

Well,silk jim jams are the summer fashion this year.

Can I have some,please? miaowed the cat,Emily.

You already have some silk nightgowns… four!

Do you really buy nightgowns for the cat?asked Anne incredulously

Well she sleeps with me now you know,as I like to hear someone breathing at night.Mary is downstairs studying algebra.She only needs three hours sleep.And she has no interest in loving me.It’s a puzzle how she bore our two daughters Lyra and Desiree.She says she found them under a gooseberry bush, but they look very like Bill Clinton.

Was Bill fond of gooseberry bushes too?They have big thorns.

He would not let a few thorns put him off…he’s a very tough man.

What about goats’ horns.. would they put him off? Or Matterhorns?

Let’s get back to statistics,my beloved,Stan murmured foolishly

I’ll just boil the kettle,my lambkin

I prefer boiling water for coffee.

Stan was famed for his wacky sense of humor………….amongst the friends of theirs who all taught maths or played cricket for England.Annie walked away looking charming in her black wool city shorts with shiny patent leather boots.Her chest distracted him as she wore only a yellow vest.

Have you not got a cardigan ,darling,he whispered shyly.

No,the moths ate it but I’m going shopping later she muttered

.I hope you’ll wear a coat.You might catch a chill,he said anxiously

Fret not,,I’ll drive down.Annie screamed
.You are 55 now you know…you are not a girl.Modesty is a wise trait for mature ladies. Modesty………I gave that up years ago.I dress how I feel.

Well,you make me want a feel.Suddenly the leg fell of his chair and it collapsed tossing him onto the floor,As he lay there he muttered sarcastically,

I blame those trousers of yours! Call 999.

She tore off her trousers to reveal some black silky lace flowered underwear

Is that better? she enquired chastely .

I suggest you get tested forAsperger’s syndrome,he shouted.

I have enough trouble with Tourette’s she whispered tenderly.It makes me say bad words…………..

I’ve never heard you.What sort of words?

Like, “Be off,you silly twit.”

That sounds funny to me.he responded sweetly.

Can you tell me some more bad words?

No I can’t,you dolt!

Why not,my angel?

Well,isn’t this a family friendly web site?

Nowadays,what does family mean?Two ladies who love one another and their child fathered by the cat.

I never knew it was the cat.I’ve often wondered about that.Emily purred happily as she was hoping to have kittens soon with her boyfriend Emile who was in the garden.

Look it’s tea time.I hear Mary ‘s bike.Get up off the floor and get a hammer I can mend that chair.

Wow,you are so clever……we men are unneeded now! Stan informed her ironically.

Don’t be silly.I love you,the dearest.Thanks you so much…it’s good to hear those sweet words. meant I want the dearest maxi skirt as a reward,she said saucily.

Women,Stan thought wryly. Can’t live with them;can’t live without them.Go and put on your nightdress Emily.Warm up the bed.I’m having an early night.

Quick,get up.Mary is here.she’ll imagine the worst if she sees you on the floor.She’ll think you are ill!

No,I know what you do on that rug,you little minx! t was Mary who had crept in in her bare feet.Look at you,no shoes!How vulgar.You look like a fraction!

Better than looking like a decimal!

Now,said Stan,have a cup of tea and then we can have a sit down on the rug and study algebra and geometry.

What a nice man he is!Why is Annie so keen on decimals see my next instalment… when I pay it!

A cat ponders

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