Buying 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-other 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 will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously..
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 coloured shirts and one light teal colored jacket.
He chose a coral coloured 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 paste,guests feed?
He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush
He looked again at his image.
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, Jacob Weissmann.
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.
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
At the bus stop there stood Anne 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 recognize 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,
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 o.k.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 uncannily.Where she bought it was a mystery.
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 warningly.
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 one 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
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.
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 weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep.
Like you.

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!

Little did he know the true tale, that Annie had murdered her husband merely because she felt very  bored.
Boredom is dangerous.If you are affected why not go out and look at some hats? Why not take up drawing. is now online

Microsoft Paint

I wish we were in Standon by the ford

The river Stort, the placid cows, the sun

Oh, to be outdoors, the light to hoard

Without you you near I feel that I am shunned.

Up the hill we find the quiet church

We see the village spread out like a bed

We found this place although we did not search

I long to see your face though you are dead

Could I find you if I came at night

Shadows walk like ghosts by Prozac raised.

Could I find you in the morning light?

All I want is this, to see your face.

No one knows the mystery and the wealth

Is memory now a danger to my healtha?

L

Come live with me and be my sweetheart now
I’ll share my only bed with you and how!
If you let me love you
I’ll darn your old wool gloves 4 you
If you come and meet me brow to brow.

Come live with me ‘n teach me all you know
About poetic licence and Defoe.
I’ll mend your vacuum cleaner,
Learn expressions meaner..
How cheerfully the hours to come will go

Come live with me and be my lover true
Without one, whatever shall we do?
I’ll mend all England’s railways
Wreck the works on weekdays
Come live with me and I will sweep your flue.

Come live with me in Norway on a fjord
I’ll play my Canon PowerShot if
I ‘m bored
I’ll watch the flowers growing
And see the waters flowing
How happy Wittgenstein’d be if he’d knowed

https://www.timesofisrael.com/meet-the-orthodox-jewish-physicist-rethinking-the-origins-of-life/

https://www.aspiringtokindness.com/blog/2019/6/11/the-crucial-difference-between-anger-and-hostility

Properly understood, anger is a gateway sensation to other feelings.  Hostility is more a siege-like mental state that brooks no compromise. 

 

• Mary was just running out of the front door when she realised she had not combed her hair.
  She looked around, and found a small wire brush labelled,”For nubuck and suede shoes”…..
  Peering into the old mirror she ran it though her gold and silver hair,powdered her nose with her Estee Lauder natural beige foundation in powder form and slapped some coral lipstick on with haste.. and accuracy.
  Right,that’s it,she thought.Enough to show willing.
  She met her old friend Maureen at the bus stop.
  Have you been seeing Joel again? Maureen asked naughtily.
  No,I’ll be damned if I see him again,Mary said shyly.He told me he was living alone in a large house up the hill, then I met him with his wife.Who was he trying to fool?
  Maybe he hoped you would not notice?
  Not notice what,her wedding ring?
  Luckily the bus came down the road and stopped beside them.They jumped on and ran to the back. for a gab.
  Are you going shopping? Maureen asked.
  No,I am going to take some photos of the jazz band playing on the pavement by the bank… but I told Stan I was going to the pharmacy to buy some Vaseline….
  Why,does he not like you taking photos?
  Not when an old boyfriend of mine is in the band.
  Exactly how old is the boyfriend?
  About 69 I guess.
  Well he’s not that old!
  He is an ex I should have said.I knew him in primary school and used to ride his tricycle.He was my first love.We were only 5 years old.I think it was his red curls and the tricycle that attracted me… but we split up when we were 6.
  Surely Stan would not be jealous;it is 63 years ago,
  And to me it was like last year!Well. you know time does not exist in the Unconscious.
  How wonderful.
  Yes and no.Good memories can be there but also pain can seem as if it just happened even when it is from 50 years ago.
  Have you had a lot of men admiring you,dear?
  How would I know?There could be thousands if they were too shy to speak.
  You know what I mean!
  Not so many.. I had my second when we were 10.He had golden hair and long eye lashes and lots of games in boxes.He was very sweet but we were to young to be engaged so I decided to give men up and study mathematics instead as that has its own icy beauty…
  Wel,,nice meeting you.Have you dyed your hair;it’s got brown streaks.
  Oh,dear,Mary thought.Is it shoe polish? But who polishes suede shoes nowadays?
  Stan was following Mary on his Face Bike.He was watching her from behind the bike racks in front of the HSBC Bank…
  Mary had had many bikes in her life.. what would a fortune teller make of that,he asked himself.
  Still,she had no idea Stan was nearby as she wandered nonchalantly along the grey pavement in her Rosella dress and Gabor suede Mary Janes..
  Now then, where shall I go to take the photos,she thought…maybe I’ll sit outside this Coffee Shop and pretend to feel faint if anyone asks me to buy coffee…
  she opened her bag and took out her Kindle Paperwhite… she was reading,
  Creative Imagery and Healing… and also Cars and Peace by Leo Wholeshaw.. a futuristic novel set in North London.In the first chapter a grandmother has been beheaded in North London.
  That’s a bit far fetched,Mary had thought when she read it but in fact Wholeshaw had been right on the ball when he wrote his e book and self published it on Cramuzon for £3.89…
  I wonder if I’d like to write a novel, Mary mused… just then she saw Stan on the other side of the road talking to a blonde bombshell dressed all in pink.
  I see,she thought.He didn’t know I’d be here as the pharmacy is half a mile away.
  Who is watching whom?Well.the morals be lacking but my grammar is incorrect, damn it!
  And  so swear of us

The still small voice,a whisper in the ear

Who will hear it in this noisy age?

Pandemonium food banks, fear of war?,

Buying more cheap clothes distill our rage.

Intelligence of any kind is rare

Sometimes suffering gives us time and spurs

Illness is creative for the few

Underneath the panic there is care.

Sit in in ancient churches for the view

Walk along the sea edge see the waves

Poetry music painting must engage

https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/cynicism

The picture is not cynical

The belief that people are only motivated by selfishness and insincerity.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cynicism_(philosophy)

Cynicism (Ancient Greek: κυνισμός) is a school of thought of ancient Greek philosophy as practiced by the Cynics (Ancient Greek: Κυνικοί; Latin: Cynici). For the Cynics, the purpose of life is to live in virtue, in agreement with nature. As reasoning creatures, people can gain happiness by rigorous training and by living in a way which is natural for themselves, rejecting all conventional desires for wealth, power, and fame, and even flouting conventions openly and derisively in public. Instead, they were to lead a simple life free from all possessions.

https://psychcentral.com/lib/getting-anger-and-hostility-under-control#The-Basics-of-Anger-and-Hostility

https://betterhumans.pub/49-life-altering-lessons-i-learned-from-reading-a-million-poems-78f70f3071b0

*

Here again, the challenge is when our unconscious beliefs and assumptions speed right past being adaptive and helpful, careening into an unhelpful, even dangerous place of rigidity. We say to ourselves and others, “Listen, I already know how the world works!”

And from this perspective

The Holocaust the death of God

Immeasurable pain , the precious blood.

Who contains and changes sin?

If God has left,the devil wins

0 the mother holds her tiny child

Gentle Jesus meet and mild.

The evil comes from human hearts

Love brings evil, God departs.

I pretend my right arm belongs to someone else
Then I stroke my left arm gently
I know it’s not you
But I like it anyway

I saw the black cat slink away
I didn’t know he has been near me
Now he has gone
For today

In the night I heard a siren
Was it inside me or outside
I seemed to have no boundaries
What do you say?

At the hospital, they seemed angry
How long have my feet been deformed?
Since I was in the womb
Before that, I don’t know.

Mary was in the bijou teal coloured kitchen of her almost detached house making a jam sponge pudding when the doorbell rang.She wiped her hands on her new purple trousers because she didn’t want to dirty a clean towel.
She found Dr Rosa Benchez standing nervously outside shivering
Come in , Mary cried.Would you like a cup of tea? You need to sit by the fire and get warmer
I’d love that, Rosa said politely but distantly
A few minutes later they were sitting looking out of the bay window watching a blackbird sitting on the fence as they hoped it would start to sing
May I talk to you,Mary? I have got rather more agitated than ever before.I am wondering if I need counselling or maybe shooting, she joked morosely
OK,said Mary cautiously.Has anything unusual happened ?
Yes, my sister has had her driving license taken away because of big panic attacks she had crossing the Humber Bridge …. you know how huge it is.She got out of the car and screamed,Help! Help!
That was dangerous with so much traffic about
She is furious and says we live in a Nazi state and is writing to the Times
Well, it can happen that you lose your licence,Mary said,but when she has learned to deal with the attacks she can re-apply and get her license back.Simple things like not eating and being tired can bring that on so I have heard.And fear of fear, too.
As well as that,Rosa said,my son has got a recurrence of cancer and is going onto some new drug-type chemo.My ex husband is very distressed and so Am I as it was unexpected.
And even worse my new fiance Prof. Charlie Blogge has broken off our engagement with no reason.I can’t think of any at all.Shall I ever trust a man again?
He said I can keep the ring which is a blue sapphire ,supposedly, but when I had it valued they said I was mistaken and you can buy them on amazon for £57 and less.
So she took off the ring and hurled it into Mary’s coal fire where it looked very nice as it got hotter and hotter glowing like a lighthouse off Portland Bill in a sea storm or a banger about to explode

Good grief, said Mary.No wonder you are agitated.We may have to phone Dave the bisexual lovable paramedic available on the NHS 24 hours a day.Or we could have our hair permed and dyed red instead, she murmured to herself
Which of these events bothers you most,Rosa? She continued gently.
It is my own feelings that worry me most.I wake up feeling very sad and nervous;I wonder if I am having a breakdown.Then I feel worse as I turn it over in my mind trying to decide what to do.Then I get up and get food into me and think it all over and over again while drinking my tea.
Well, you know it is normal to feel sad, anxious or distraught when bad things happen,Mary told her.
But most people look happy when I see them in the town , Rosa shouted angrily
That is because being outside they put on a mask.They could be feeling worse than you.Anyway, why bother about that? We are all different.Some people think I am very calm but they don’t see me when I’m not.I go stiff like a piece of wood.Then I pass out
So what do you do? Rosa asked her nervously,twirling a golden ringlet around her finger as she watched her engagement ring melt in the fire.
I don’t do anything,Mary said.This is one of the fundamental errors in our society that action is needed for so many things and especially for negative feelings.But it’s usually part of life.Things pass.
I pretend I have a big round box inside me and I let the anxiety live in there nice and cosy until my mind has absorbed and dealt with the pain.Once my box was quite small but it has grown bigger now and so it has room for mad or bad feelings.I do little tasks and listen to music.
Then if I feel really bad I listen to Leonard Cohen and tell myself, he had it worse.But he made money out of it! Not that you can make money out of yours. though it’s worth musing about
Well,Rosa replied.Thank you,Mary.I am glad I am not the only one who feels so anxious sometimes.I shall try to get a box like yours.
You are welcome,said Mary jovially.Come round on Sunday for tea.Emile is out hunting but he loves to see you and so do I
The women hugged cautiously and Rosa went out looking less cold and nervous as she bravely carried her box of troubles along with her, though it was invisible to the people passing by.

He said I was so beautiful he was frightened I might get married before he was 18.

I’d like to lie beside you,
so we’d be face to face.
Then we could at last enjoy
A sweet visual embrace.

Eye to eye,
I look at you.
Beloved face is
in my view.

Then I take my fingers
way across your brow;
my fingers linger on your lips-
somewhere,somehow.

.
I trace these dear lines of old age
which wander round your eyes.
I run my fingers down your nose.
My touch is satisfied.

I’d like to trace your smiling lips.
Rhat look so fine and strong.
With my own pink finger tips.
Would you think me wrong?

Your tender arms enclose me
And I hug your shoulders now.
I’ll rub you down with fragrant cream
From your toes up to your brow.

I’d like to boil your hankies
In an ancient pan
On a big coal fire..
Though the coal fires are long gone.

I’d like to rest my head
Upon your bony chest
I’ll test your antiperspirant
And the whiteness of your vest.

I’ll treat you very tenderly
and keep you free of dirt
For as they used to say one time:
Oh,how real loving hurts!

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2009/jul/18/muriel-spark-books-martin-stannard

https://www.tuc.org.uk/research-analysis/reports/lifting-veil-removing-invisibility-adult-social-care

https://www.verywellhealth.com/things-stop-doing-arthritis-190407

https://www.theguardian.com/science/2023/feb/18/100-centenarians-100-tips-for-a-life-well-lived?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

https://academic.oup.com/book/1312/chapter-abstract/140296678?redirectedFrom=fulltext

O

This theme, which gradually becomes clear to the reader, is foreshadowed in an early quotation: ‘Concepts can never be presented to me merely, they must be knitted into the structure of my being, and this can only be done through my own activity’ (M. P. Follett, Creative Experience).

The central concept which is presented to the reader and apprehended by the writer through the writing of the book has to do with the subjective way of experiencing and the role of this in creative process. Thus the book is in one sense a plea for the recognition of subjectivity as having its own place and way of functioning, just as legitimate and as necessary as objectivity, but different. As applied to education, it is pointed out that subjectivity must be understood by teachers, otherwise the objectivity aimed at must be in danger of fatal distortion. Painting comes in as a jumping-off place; it was the surprise of discovering the power to make ‘free’drawings’..

https://www.cyberdefinitions.com/definitions/COOL.html

Written by me

The gravity of loss brought me to earth
Beneath the rotting leaves, I lay with worms.
I wondered if I were of any worth

No more to be enchanted by love’s mirth,
I with unnamed particles was turned.
The weight of loss bears down the heart to earth.

I could not rise alone but saw a path
While I slept new unity had formed
I learned I need not think of what I’m worth

My sorrow brought no guilt nor fear of wrath
I am both eagle and a twisted worm
In my little grave, I loved the earth.

Like the adder, shocked into rebirth.
I from silent underworld had learned
Not to judge my soul to be of worth.

I shall not fear the flames of hell that burn
When blackness is accepted, may one learn?
The weight of loss breaks down the soul to earth
With dusty shredded leaves, we then converse.

Stan was leaning over, cleaning the new bath.When the doorbell rang,he rushed downstairs and opened the double front door.
“Will you take this parcel in for the lady next door?” The postman asked wearily.
“Oh,fine Stan stuttered.He was trying to avoid Annie but here she was,coming down the road of superior semi detached houses suitable for ex-headmasters ,small businessmen,econometricians,surgeons,pie salesmen and theologians.
She was wearing perfume, and green sandals from TK Maxx,light khaki tencel cropped combat trousers with a purple silky over-blouse, not to mention her matching raspberry and cream underwear .Round her neck hung a miniature grandfather clock on a solid gold chain,and she had three imitation gold and silver watches on each of her three wrists making a total of 333 watches according to Carnap’s theory of logic and Russell’s terrible handwriting. Stanley didn’t know that she had a mobile phone stuffed into her bra—one advantage for the larger sized woman.In fact she had 4 down there in her raspberry coloured glamour bra,as she had a phobia about their batteries running down all at once
The more she had the lower the probability of her being without a phone whilst out and about the town and countryside.So she reasoned in her womanly way. Just then one phone rang.She rummaged around to the consternation and turmoil-uation of Stanley and the postman.She plucked out a pale blue phone.
“Hi,it’s Annie” she murmured.
“Hi Annie it’s Dave the paramedic with carpentry skills. You’ve not rung 999 lately so we were wondering if all was well!”
“Oh,I’m terribly sorry.I’ll try to phone later on.Thanks,Petal.That was Dave,our ex-transvestite converted paramedic”,she informed the men.The postman galloped off on his donkey, his bags full of undelivered males.It’s a tough but interesting life in Knittingham. Would you like a male delivery?Contact Parcel Force without delay.
Annie went into Stan’s house and demanded a cup of coffee.
“Won’t it make you put weight on” Stan quipped ironically.
“Do you think I’m too plump?” she responded anxiously..
“Too plump for what?” he quipped amiably.
“To attract men,of course!”
“No,my angel,you are just perfect”he quacked definitively.”Nor are you an angel,strictly speaking,as I have good reason to know.Thank you,my beloved for services rendered so generously and freely.”
“Oh,my goodness I must get home to render the fat from the beef and to make some gooseberry jam.” Stanley looked uneasy.
“I wonder why babies are left under gooseberry bushes?
The thorns are so big it’s quite dangerous getting them out,or so Mary told me when Lyra was born. She was covered in scratches and wouldn’t come near me for months.”
“Why don’t you come upstairs to look at our new purple bathroom suite.Since the Royal Wedding it’s the in colour.The gold taps were expensive but they do go well.”
“My God,let me out.” she bawled,”It reminds me of the Vatican and that’s no place for a lady”,
“Not even a gay lady?” Stan muttered parsimoniously, as he licked her eyelashes gently.
“Stop that.I’ve got my Yves St Laurent mascara on.”
“I prefer the taste of the Chanel,”he disclosed privately in an internal secret memo.[available on 50 years]
“Why not lick my neck instead?” she enquired curiously as she tripped over Emile the cat, who had slipped into the bathroom as usual to see what they were up to,you know what I mean, you catch my drift?
She fell floppily into the bath and banged her head on the taps.
“Oh,gosh,better ring 999” Stan said to Emile.
“Have you got your catphone warehouse mobile on you?”
“Yes ,it’s in my y-fronts”, the cat amiably miaowed.
“Hi Dave,this is Emile.Can you come quick.Annie is unconscious and what is worse,she has scratched the new bath.”
In fact it was Emile who had scratched the bath that morning but since Stan had not noticed he hoped to, callously, pass the blame onto poor Annie.How cruel can a cat be? Ask any mouse! Still in the end God made all of us and what a terrifying and beautiful world it is.

I tore my map on a sharp nail,
And let out an almighty wail.
but mother said “it’s alright,dear.
The world is still entirely here”
She fixed my map with sellotape,
Then wiped my face with baby wipes.
I went off to fly my kite,
And do you know,she was quite right

Published by

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2022/oct/18/children-whose-parents-lack-warmth-more-likely-to-grow-up-obese-study-finds?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

Correlation is not causation

https://www.cpr.org/2021/05/10/when-responding-to-a-person-with-dementia-experts-say-police-need-to-acknowledge-their-fears-not-dismiss-them/