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martin Dec 2015
Why is this a poem?
Because it's magic.

Greetings,

On the third day before the Ides of September, sister,
for the day of the celebration of my birthday,
I send you a warm invitation to make sure you come to us,
to make the day more enjoyable by your presence.

Give my regards to your [husband] Cerialis.
My [husband] Aelius and my young son send their greetings.

I shall expect you, sister.
Farewell, sister, my dearest soul, as I hope to prosper.
This was written in the first century AD, in Latin, by the wife of the commander of the Roman fort of Vindolanda in present day Northern England, near Hadrian's Wall.
It was written on a thin piece of wood, postcard-size, and disposed of in a bonfire when the fort was evacuated. In the anaerobic conditions it survived and was excavated nearly 2000 years later.
This small soggy piece of wood was voted Britain's top treasure by experts at the British museum and by a public poll.
martin Jun 2014
If you were here beside me still
With weather fine and time to ****
We could go strolling on the shore
Believing in eternity once more
And, perhaps, one day we will

So stubborn is this mournful chill
And hard to climb this unforgiving hill
My soul would be at peace, not war
If you were here...

We cannot chose to live or die at will
Or all our hopes and dreams fulfill
We let imagined gods keep score
And cannot change what went before
But what a tonic, what a thrill
If you were here...
martin Jun 2012
The Bishop of Edinburgh has lost his faith
Now he tweets instead of prays
At least he can be sure there is someone
               Out there
Richard Holloway, writer, broadcaster, former bishop and early supporter of gay marriage, has been through a spectacular and public crisis of faith. He always regarded Bible stories as poetic guidance and it troubled him that some of his congregation took them as fact. He has become agnostic although he still preaches twice monthly.
martin Nov 2012
There was a Scots soldier, Bill Millin
The sound of his bagpipes was thrillin'
The Germans thought how sad-
The poor man's quite mad-
We'll not waste a bullet on him then
Limericks are usually light-hearted, this one not so much.
The tradition of going to war playing morale-boosting bagpipes was forbidden in the British army during the 1914-18 war as it tended to attract enemy fire. On June 6th 1944 however, Bill Millin was ordered to play the pipes on Sword beach as the D-day landings were in full swing.
He escaped injury because the German gunners, deciding he was completely bonkers, did not fire on him.  He died aged 88 a couple of years ago.
martin Jul 2013
This
lovely
black bird
swans up to
me, raven haired,
great ****.   I'm well
choughed. We lark about.
She said "Bury me in the sand martin"
Strange hobby I'm thinking, puffin as I dig
away. Her feet stuck out, pigeon toed. She owled
when I tickled them. The sea was too ruff to swim so
we flew a kite. A knot in the string made it a dipper
and diver. I had to duck. We swallowed a glass
of wine and under the eider down she asked
swiftly "What was that?"  "Just a
little ****" I said. She groused.
martin Sep 2012
I think we all agree
He is a master of his craft
His ready wit and wisdom
Can make us look quite daft
Although his face we do not see
His words are all we really need
So from us all on hp
Happy Birthday FJD
martin Mar 2015
He asked me for advice one day
I told him bite the bullet
It's the only way

He said you're right, I will, I will

Now he's got a dentist bill
And asking me to pay
martin Dec 2012
Chemistry that's a start
History broken heart
Geography been around
Current affairs lost and found

Politics no nasty shocks
Anatomy got the lot
Philosophy will it fit
Astrology if you believe in it

English Lit Great Expectations
English Lang communications
Mathematics work it out
Music we could twist and shout

Psychology games to play
Economics I can pay
Algebra think of walking
Poetry now you're talking
martin Apr 2013
Her tummy was swollen
This could mean
A future King
Or future Queen
A gift of life
A baby's breath

Instead it was seed
From the angel of death
Queen of England 1553 - 1558.  
Daughter of Henry VIII and his first wife, Catherine of Aragon.
The first woman to successfully claim the English throne.
Died probably from ovarian cysts or uterine cancer.
Succeeded by her half sister, Elizabeth I .
martin Jun 2013
In the blue ridge mountains of Virginia
On the trail of the lonesome pine
I promised to stay true to ya
But kind of changed my mind

There was linda, Natasha, victoria
All waiting in a line
Rebecca Mae and Cynthia
And so little time

In the blue ridge mountains of Virginia
We had a lovely time
I read all their poetry
They read all of mine
Go girls !  :)
martin Nov 2014
----------------

There was a young man from Bilbao
Who swallowed a book somehow
Can you suggest
How to digest
The thoughts of Chairman Mao?

------------------

There is a man not far from here
Who had a rather novel idea
To write a book
So a pen he took
And lo it did appear

--------------------

There was a young man from Brum
Who felt a book in his tum
He had it removed
Which just goes to prove
There's a book in everyone

-------------------

As a young man
I felt that I must
Write a long book
about love and lust
A publisher read it
Then promptly did shred it
      And told me to go drive a bus      

---------------------
Yours welcome
martin Apr 2013
At the end of the run
To spoil the fun
An evil crime
Conceived by a twisted mind
Delivered by human ****
martin Mar 2012
Before the crystal screen sometimes
I linger far too long
Maybe find a seed to sow
Or reminder of a song

Something prompts a laugh out loud
The mood is lifted high
Next may come a downer
That's ok
There is serenity in melancholy
Brings balance to the day

The rounds are taking far too long
An hour later I'm still there
Dusty's waiting for his walk
As the wood stove breathes in air
martin Mar 2016
Who will mend this broken chair
This useless one just standing there
Waiting for a drop of glue
Who will mend it, if not you?

Then take this lonesome broken heart
Can you fathom where to start
Who can make it beat anew
Who can mend it, if not you?
.
.
slightly changed re-post
martin Feb 2012
Who will mend this broken chair
This useless chair just standing there
Waiting for a drop of glue
Who will mend it, if not you

Then take a look at this broken heart
Can you fathom where to start
Who can make it beat anew
Who can mend it, if not you?
martin Mar 2013
From time to time I need a little help at work, casual labour. Someone said Bugg was a hard worker, you'll find him in the Crown. Sure enough he was there, yes he'd be pleased to help, starting the next day. Bugg used to live in a house, but bought a painted gypsy wagon, horse and all to live an itinerant life. He kept moving on, from one village common to another. I collected him at first, and sure enough he worked well. He said he once met Rod Stuart in a bar and I had no reason to disbelieve him, still don't.
  He started using a motorbike to get to work. His time-keeping was, well, non-existent. He came out with excuses like there was a police car cruising nearby, so he had to stay put as his bike was not taxed or insured. So we had a little conversation about that, and I thought I had convinced him it would be worthwhile getting it legal. He concluded the discussion by saying that well, the police don't stop bikes much anyway.
  One day he showed up at about eleven. Later on I casually asked if there had been a reason for his late arrival. His disarming reply was a simple 'no, not really'.  A nice enough fella, but I was beginning to get the measure of him.
  Instead of being paid at the end of the week, Bugg wanted his money daily. I realised he was spending each day's money in the pub every night. I was still glad of the help though.
  When the work ran out he moved his wagon a few miles to another common, where he had work helping with a barn conversion. Ideal for him, a village with a common, work and a pub.
  One very early morning someone on their way to work saw his wagon engulfed in flames. He was in it, burnt to a crisp. When I heard about it I was shocked, but I can't say I was surprised.
  Poor old Bugg, hopeless old Bugg, rest in peace mate.
martin Apr 2014
matador tourist
bull overcharges
martin Mar 2012
Calm on the surface
Do not show signs of panic
Launder pants later
martin Oct 2016
A bumpy track led to the old cottage. The place hadn't been lived in for quite a while but was intact, a perfect timber-framed Tudor cottage. Even the old thatch didn't leak. Just two rooms downstairs with a small lean-to on the back, the kitchen still had a Dutch oven and an old copper for hot water. A kite-winder staircase followed the central chimney up to two bedrooms.

The place was coming up for auction. Desperately I wanted it. At the auction it made four times what I could afford. The buyer did not move in however. There was a story about him being in prison. At this time the farmers used to dispose of waste straw after combining by burning it in the fields, a practice now banned. That's how the thatch caught alight. There was no attempt to fight the fire because no-one even noticed it. Gales later blew in the gable ends, then the chimney crumbled, brambles grew over it until there was hardly a visible trace of the place left.

I wish I could have saved it. It would have been beautiful. Instead I bought a little terrace, then a detached needing renovation, then the one we have today. I got what I wanted eventually, but I still think about that old place sometimes, and how I wanted it.
C2C
martin Dec 2011
C2C
The country in Springtime's a nice place to be
I got up early and made some tea
I'm really enjoying my piece of toast
But I wish I was walking the coast to coast.

If there's one thing in life that I recommend
It's to walk coast to coast with a very good friend
I've done it before, I've no wish to boast
I'll do it again, the coast to coast.
Alfred Wainwright linked rights of way to create a continuous footpath from the west coast of England to the east coast. It is probably the most popular of the many long distance walks to be enjoyed here, passing through the Lake district, the Yorkshire dales and north Yorkshire moors.
martin Mar 2015
Cam ye o'er frae France? Cam ye down by London?
Saw ye Geordie Whelps and his bonny woman?
Were ye at the place called the Kittle Housie?
Saw ye Geordie's grace riding on a goosie?

Geordie, he's a man there is little doubt
He does all he can, who would do without?
Down there came a blade linkin' like a lordie;
He would drive a trade at the loom o' Geordie.

Though the plaid were bad, blythly did we niffer;
Gin we get a wab, it makes little differ.
We have tint our plaid, bonnet, belt and swordie,
Halls and mailings braid—but we have our Geordie!

Jocky's gane to France and Montgomery's lady;
There they'll learn to dance: Madam, are ye ready?
They'll be back belive, belted, brisk and lordly;
Brawly may they thrive to dance a jig wi' Geordie!

Hey for Sandy Don! Hey for Cockolorum!
Hey for Bobbing John and his Highland Quorum!
Many a sword and lance swings a Highland hurdie;
How they'll skip and dance o'er the *** o' Geordie!
This song's author is unknown, but it was written around the time of the Jacobite rebellions.  I love the archaic language and sing it to myself when nobody can hear. It has been recorded a few times, notably by Steeleye Span (it's on youtube).
Now the history lesson. In 1688 James II, a Catholic, was exiled to France and his Protestant daughters took the throne, first Mary, then Anne. When Anne died without heir, the throne passed to the house of Hanover.  George I became king, even though he was German and spoke no English. But he was, crucially, Protestant.  
The son of the exiled James II made a claim to the throne but he being a Catholic, was not accepted. His son also tried, Bonny Prince Charlie. These were the Jacobite rebellions.
Come ye o'er frae France is a song in support of the Jacobite movement,  and very much mocking George I.   My rough explanation of the archaic language is as follows.

Have you just arrived from France?
Did you come via London?
Did you see young Georgie and his pretty woman?
Were you at the place they call the ***** house
Did you see George his grace, ******* a ******?

Georgie, he's a man, there's no doubt about that
He has anyone he can, and who wouldn't?
Along came a dish, swanking like a dandy
And he did a deal
To share poor Georgie's candy

Although we got a bad deal, still we blithely haggled
If we get the dregs it makes little difference
We have dyed our cloth, bonnet belt and sword,
Our homes and lands are lost, but we have our George!

The **** (James) has gone to France with Montgomery's lady
There they'll hatch a plot, and when they're good and ready
They'll be back here soon, kitted up and raring to go
And may they succeed in their set-to with Georgie!

Come on Sandy Don, come on Cockolorum   [Jacobite supporters]
Come on Bobbing John and his Highland Possie
Many a sword and lance swings a Highland warrior
How they'll skip and dance over the *** of Georgie!
martin May 2016
When she wants something
She can be quite determined
My wife
She wanted to be a human cannon ball
So I watched from a safe distance
A double-decker bus
Roof removed
Filled with water
Had been provided to land in
With a splash
She missed and landed with a crunch
I knew it was a bad idea
Do you dream funny?
martin Aug 2014
I looked inside her head
Thought I'd see carousels, glitter *****
Unicorns juggling golden orbs
Glinting diamonds, chandeliered halls

But there was only sawdust, bits of straw
Knotted string, plasticene and beetles wings

Expectation is a foolish thing
martin Jan 2015
You do not have to say anything
But anything you do say
May be recorded and later used
In a poem recited against you.
Legal eagles are getting their knickers in a twist over the exact words to use when cautioning a person who is being arrested.
martin Sep 2015
On Christmas Eve in the 1970's everyone got ******.
At office parties random couples paired off and snogged.
Bus drivers waved their passengers through,
they didn't want your money.
Even they were ******.
Probably the coppers had a few
down at the station.
Glass of sherry anyone?
memories
changing times
martin Aug 2013
A wedding coming up, that's nice
Put some pink champagne on ice

A little son for Pam and Ted-
Better wet the baby's head

Cyril died for goodness sake
Get some beers in for the wake

Paddy says he saw his ghost
Must be worth a little toast

Rabbie Burns night guess the plan
Old Lang Syne then a dram

Talking business I've a hunch
Could involve a liquid lunch

Dear John news comes in a letter
Have a brandy you'll feel better

Internet gone on the blink
Enough to drive a man to drink

Not that I take much you see
Just a little socially
martin Mar 2015
No work of man can compete with you

Passed by, ignored by most

Is it only I who sees
your ever-changing common beauty?
martin Apr 2016
On Chicago streets every night
Young lives are sacrificed
Don't turn your back
It's *** for tat
They shoot without thinking twice
martin Jun 2014
There was a vicar from Fife
Who never took a wife
Instead he toyed
With a choir boy
And buggered him up for life
martin Mar 2013
Clever Trevor likes to surprise
When he was born he shouted Hi!
I'm Trevor, glad to be aboard
And look, I'm wearing a mortar board!

They gave him a part in the Christmas play
As baby Jesus the divine
He took to it like a duck to water
Which of course he turned to wine

Mum took him to the beach to play
Let's be normal just for a day
He dug a hole in the sand
Drained the sea away

He likes to throw stones,
Never missing a target
He aimed for the moon one fateful night
Knocked it out of orbit

A keyboard wizard,
If he got a bit bored
He could start a third world war

So come on Trevor, please do something good
Help us out here, I wish you would
martin Nov 2013
I've had enough of all this wind and reindeer
We otter go away
Holidays are important, my parents tortoise that
Weasel have to look on the internet
You know I can't bear the heat
But here's a spa hotel where I'm sure they would panda to your every need
Alpaca suitcase right away

Toothpaste tube, cattle class
Purple stripes, rows of lights
A newly formed castle white
In concrete, steel and glass

Cloud-high halls, giant pots
Re-charging bodies strewn around
Turning deeper shades of brown
Volcanic sand, hot black rock

We watch a floating city, blazing light
Like a dying star, fade into the night

                        -

Ali, where do these bananas go?
What kind of tree is this?
How far does this levada flow?

Ali takes the tourists out
He throws some breadcrumbs in the water
He likes to feed the trout

Madeira born in forty five
Ali told me many things
Ali, our levada walking guide

His family was very poor
He collected mussels from the shore
And sticks to burn for heat
For today his mother said
I have no food and we must eat
We have to eat

Ali, where are all the vines?
How long before your boots wear out?
Do you drink the local wine?

Do the tourists drive you mad
With all the questions that they ask?
Ali smiles, shuffles us aside
To let some others pass
martin Sep 2012
Take a butchers at this me old Chinas.
Slip ya Plates o' Meat into ya Jacks,
brew up a nice cup o' Rosy,
and if you haven't got a ****** what I'm on about,
feel free to fire me off a Jimmy Nail
and tell me it's a load of old cobblers.

Can you Adam an' Eve it,
I left me Dog 'n' Bone on the Apples
and when I went to call the Trouble 'n' Strife
some joker had Half-Inched it.

But that's not the worst of it.
When I got back to the Cat and Mouse
she'd done a bunk in me shiny new Jam Jar.
I couldn't believe me Pork Pies!

So here I am all on me Todd,
me only transport a ****** old **** van ****.
Gordon Bennett!
I'm goin' down the ****** for a few Britneys,
gonna get totally Brahms and List
and blow a big fat raspberry at the whole thing.

Tomorrow's another bale 'o' hay.
butchers hook = look,  china plates = mates,  plates 'o' meat = feet,  Jack the Rippers = slippers
Rosy Lea = tea,  ****** doo = clue,  Jimmy Nail = email,  cobbler's awls = *****,  
Adam & Eve = believe,  dog 'n' bone = phone,  apples & pears = stairs,  trouble & strife = wife,  
half-inch = pinch,  cat & mouse = house,  jam jar = car,  pork pies = eyes,  Todd Sloan = alone,  
**** van **** = bike,  Britney Spears = beers,  Brahms & List = ******,  raspberry **** = ****,  
bale 'o' hay = day.

I imagine for those who don't know about it, Cockney Rhyming Slang seems improbable. Originally conceived perhaps to confuse eavesdroppers, its heyday may have passed but it is still widely used in its heartland, the East End of London and beyond. Some words are used commonly all over the UK,  sometimes without the user realising the derivation, in fact I grew up saying "give us a butcher's"  and "boracic" (boracic lint = skint = no money) among others.    Also, as in Britney and Glorias (Gloria Gaynors = trainers) new ones are still being coined.  A bit of an oddball me old chinas, but I hope you enjoyed this little taste of chitty chitty  (bang bang = slang).
martin Jun 2013
What should I say to cold callers?
"Not interested thank you "
"Yes, that is my name "
"No, actually my computer isn't broken "
"I think you need electrocution lessons, I can hardly understand you."

Or maybe I'll try this;

Mario, we had a deal now Mario
We shook hands ain't that right?
Meet me on the bridge my friend
Same time alone tonight

Bring the dough now Mario
You gotta pay your debt
I'm like that elephant you know
The one who don't forget

I got you covered Mario
I know your family
You gotta learn how to behave
Act responsibly

We're nearly brothers Mario
We share some blood I guess
So let's not spill it over this
Let's clear up this mess

           click
martin May 2012
voices everywhere
hedges like the internet
 tweeting all the time
martin Jan 2013
We left behind the growing oaks, the contorted willow
with its weeping friend, and the chestnut which
protects us from the western wind.

The christmas tree, garden plonked some thirty years ago,
soon to chop and chimney, and its holly neighbour,
freed at last from greedy strangling ivy.

The white-barked birch, the leaning cluster pine, the maturing
walnut and arching alders, the trio of young scots pines,
rescued from loop moth caterpillars just in time.

The regiment of leylandii along the northern border all in a line
the laurel hedge, the little holm oak, the redwood brought
home in luggage as a burl now spearing to the sky.

The shy biloba, new, unsure, not yet deciding if it dare.
The host of yellow plums, which bid to sucker  
everywhere.

The rowan in a ***, bark nibbled by a bunnie, still waiting
for a plot.  

The scruffy greengage, planted for its scrumptious fare,
the bramley sapling and the conference pear plucked
from the bargain bin last year.

We left them all behind, just for a night, with
a special mission on our minds. We
traveled south then west to a band
of dedicated people in a special
place we had to find.
He was there.

He's with us now, and quite relaxed.
We're on our way to take him back,
to live with us as a life-long friend,
and make our lives
complete again.
We've been to collect our new puppy !
martin Mar 2015
Ok, first the basics
If you turn on the tap, just a dribble
And hold a straw, just off vertical underneath
The water will flow to the end of the straw
And drip off

Imagine many straws, densely packed
Just the tips showing
All sloping at an angle
And fixed to a steep roof

Water (rain) will be shed
And the roof will remain dry

The steeper the roof
The quicker the rain will shed
But the steeper the roof
The more material is used

Then there's the thickness
The thicker the better surely?
Well, the thicker the layer of straws
The flatter the angle at which they lay
And so the less efficient they are at shedding water

Thatching
Like life
Is a compromise
martin Mar 2013
Je suis seule
Je suis enceinte
Le vent me dit
Rentrez, vous n'etes pas assez forte
Je reste ici

Les etoiles seront mes copains
Le ciel mon abri
Je dormirai avec les pierres
La pluie me lave

Mes souvenirs, l'amour
Sont perdus
Je n'ai pas besoin de l'argent
Demain n'existe pas
Seulement le silence
Et un papillon
(corrections welcome)
-Courage-
I am alone
I am with child
The wind tells me
Go home, you are not strong enough
I remain

The stars will be my friends
The sky my shelter
I will sleep with the stones
Washed by the rain

My memories, love
Are lost
I have no need of money
Tomorrow does not exist
Only silence
And a butterfly
martin Jul 2017
Disconcerting
but somehow
comforting  to
know that even
the most successful,
talented and celebrated
individuals can at times
lack self-confidence and
experience feelings of
worthlessness.
martin Dec 2016
Have you seen the twisted spire?
It is a sight you will admire

They say 'twas when a lass was wed
When not a ****** to altar led

And that one day it will straighten anew
When one there marries a maiden true
The church of St Mary and All Saints in Chesterfield has a twisted spire.
It was originally thought that unseasoned timber used in its construction was the reason, but now the theory is that the lead used to clad the structure expands at a different rate on the sunny side from the cold side, thus pulling it out of true. The spire was constructed in 1362. It twists 45 degrees and is 9ft 6ins off the vertical, quite an eye-catching landmark and easily visible from the train.
Google Chesterfield spire.
Cry
martin Dec 2014
Cry
I came upon a child of God
Asked her where you going
She said my words were beautiful
But they were Leonard Cohen's

She passed a summer by me
Sad songs to scorch and sting
When the days grew older
She spread her angel wings

I watched for her as the white-tailed eagle
Looks down at the sea
Searched the heather, walked among the mountain flowers
Trod the holloways for hours
But she had flown from me

The raven and the hooded crow
Silent passed me by
Go, go, let her go
I heard the buzzard cry
martin Mar 2012
We miss you cuckoo, miss your song
At this time of year
Once, we heard you all day long
Now gone, for good I fear

But we have a substitute
Harbinger of spring
The humble little chiff-chaff
Proclaiming loud and clear

Truth to tell he always did
But now the cuckoo's gone
The little brown job got promoted
We're holding him more dear

Keep singing tiny chiff-chaff
Come back again next year
Escape the winter's chill in Africa
Come springtime, re-appear
Once widespread, the cuckoo is now a rare bird in my area.
martin Jun 2012
Cupid puts his arrows
     like his targets
       in a quiver
martin Dec 2013
Here comes weirdy beard again
Bright red cheeks, bright red hat
** ** ** and all of that
Riding on his sleigh

I'll ignore him for a bit
It's only one more day
Just don't make a thing of it
And he'll go away

But now the fever's getting strong
Resist as try I might
With jingle bells I hum along
That's it, I've lost the fight
martin Feb 2015
When my love was newly won
She was the sun, the sun
The sun

Then before the year had run
All too soon the cooler moon
Is what she had become

And now she's but a distant star
A candle flicker from afar
But still her power I can see

For nights are dark
And thoughts are free
martin May 2012
It was so mice of you to call round yesterday.  Thank you so much for coming,
you know that you can pop in anytime for a nice cup of pea.

       What a lovely gay we had!  It was really mice to have a good old cat together.
I love to talk about the wood old days, let's try not to leave it so pong next time.

       Well life goes on just the same as never.  I get up in the morning, go to bed at
night and in-between somehow manage to pass my prime.  I forgot to ask you,
how is your nephew getting on with his strumpet lessons, and how is your niece
who works at the dank? It is so nice that she enjoys her bog so much.

       I do love your new car, and it is so economical!  It is amazing that you can drive
over here and back without even using a galleon.

      Thank you for listening to my latest poem. I am so pleased you licked it. I know
they are not everyone's cup of sea.  Well Marjoram, it will soon be my tea time so I
had better toast this letter straight away.  Our postman is always on time and I don't
want to **** him.  Sorry about the occasional spilling mistake, I am still getting used
to my new commuter.

            Ever your good fiend,

                                                 Dottie      **
martin Jan 2014
Great news Marjorie!

I have had tasar treatment on my eyes, so I am finding my keyboard much easier to abuse.

What a week I have had!  Since you sent my letter to the local paper, I have had several people contact me. I had no idea the scribbles of an old woman like me could generate such interest. A young reporter  even called round, and I thought I was going to have to call an ambulance, the poor boy went red and laughing all the time. In fact I was certain he needed medical attention but he assured me he would be fine in a minute. He did not tell me what it was he found so amusing, but young people can be quite strange, don't you find?  He may have needed the toilet but was too shy to ask.

Despite this we did get on well, and he even said he wished I was his Grandma, which I thought was very sweet of him, while making odd gestures with his hands.

After we had enjoyed a mice cup of tea together I showed the young man around the garden and he seemed very interested in the greenhouse, remarking on its spaciousness. I asked if he had green fingers and rather enigmatically he replied  'sometimes'.  He enquired if I would be interested in renting it out to him, an idea I found rather appealing. I think he wants to grow salad plants for his family.  My faith in the younger generation is restored.

His mobile telephone rang while we were in the garden, and feeling it was rude to eavesdrop I went back into the kitchen, but I did overhear him say that he hadn't had so much fun since his granny died,  so I suppose they must have given her a good send-off.

I am rather enjoying my position as a minor celebrity in the village. Even the bus driver was more cheerful than usual today, so I smiled and gave him a cheeky little w*nk as I got off, and I'm sure he noticed it.


                                        Ever your devoted fiend,           Dottie  **
martin Dec 2012
-       icing sugar snow       -
like dusting on a mince pie
-        very seasonal            -
This little poem has nowhere to go
But I want it to rhyme
And I want it to flow
It doesn't say much
Just a small hello
And a Happy Christmas
Afore ye go
martin Jan 2016
Oh yes, I'm the last Defender
The end of a long, long line
Now it's goodbye, our fans wonder why
We've finally run out of time
The last Land Rover Defender rolled off the Solihull production line today.
Inspired by the Willys Jeep and first manufactured in 1948, it has been a huge success .  Now alas old fashioned manufacturing methods, pedestrian safety considerations and suchlike mean it's curtains for a much loved motoring icon.
martin Jan 2012
First bump, tree stump
Second ding, one of those things
Third scrape, didn't concentrate
Whoops, bang, fourth prang
Better get a brain scan.
martin Jun 2012
I must have been missing something
Without realising
Scares me a bit
How much I think about you now
How I would miss you if you were gone
I'd be ok, I'd be fine
Go back to like before
Tickedy boo
Without you

But I would feel a loss
I'm not the only one to feel this way
I think you feel it too
I'm surprised
I have become a partial prisoner
Before my very eyes
A willing hostage
Going for a ride
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