NO Elbows on Tables.
…Yesterday at breakfast , I rested my elbows on the table
Then at lunch I did it again, fair & square , firmly.
At tea time, the table was too low to lean on.
Dinnertime came & I was able to slouch as I had been doing all day.
What’s the problem?
thought this might cheer us all up?
An Engine Drivers Epitaph
My engine now is cold and still
No water does my boiler fill
My coal affords its flame no more
My days of usefulness are o’er.
My wheels deny their running speed
No more my guiding hand they heed
My whistle too has lost its tone
Its shrill and thrilling sounds are gone.
My valves are now thrown open wide
My flanges all refuse to guide
My clacks also, though once so strong
Refuse to aid the busy throng.
No more I feel each surging breath
My steam is now condensed in death
Life’s railway over each station past
In death I’m stopped and rest at last.
Farewell all dear friends and cease to weep
In Christ I’m safe, in Him I sleep.
further travels through the Emerald Isle:
the friendliness of the Irish
on returning from our rather frantic look at Dublin we returned to Dun laoghaire and the ladies decided to have an early night. Not one to miss golden opportunities bros and I ducked across to the local hostelry which was jammed packed to the gunnels and smoked filled taboot!
we ordered our first several rounds from the bar but the ever attentive barman noticed our struggling dilemma and muttered “no need to keep coming to the bar when you have finished ya drinks simple catch my eye and raise ya hand and I’ll bring them over”. This continued all evening until we fell out on the pavement!
the continuing tales of the over 80’s runner - come rain, hail or shine!
I now mustered grandad for his epic LSD experience – twice around the kitchen [on an empty bladder] twice around our garden and the neighbours. He had not been this far a field for many a long year and I was fearful of pushing him too hard!
We slipped into the now usual pattern at 6am – I decided to use a reveille call with an old bugle I had acquired and it did the trick – the old soldier sat up bolt like with eyes bulging and scurrying for his boots. Somehow the down hill slalom stair descent had been firmly entrenched in his mind and he tripped down it effortlessly. Once around the kitchen chairs and upon the ‘throne’ and then once more to embed the chicane experience in his mind -then heading up the east ridge of the garden at a slow steady pace. The wind blew gently in our faces but he just starred ahead with a glazed look upon his face – this was the unflinching stance of the LDR over 80’s. by this time all I had to do is nudge him gentle around the clothes line down through the cabbage patch – across were the tomatoes had once been and up the west side of the ‘matterhorn’ potato ridges. He was now settling into that unconscious state of the seasoned runner and there was no stopping him. Dressing gown cord dragging in the soil we headed east again to the adjourning garden gate that led into the neighbours garden. Now this was a different matter altogether a garden or orchard of apple trees that grandad was unfamiliar with. He bounced off the first tree with gay abandonment – spun around 360 degree and just kept going – I managed to nudge him to the right as he approached the next tree and then a nudge to the left – this style continued around the entire orchard. We re-entered our garden and he seemed to sense something familiar and headed to the open kitchen door. I used some ice to reduce the huge swelling over his left eye and snook him back to bed before the rest of the house arose. He had a propensity to falling out of bed frequently and often appeared looking like joe bugner!
His leg muscles had now turned from flab to taut and his stoop was now fast disappearing – a credit to the McWilliams to be sure to be sure!
May I say you’re doing a grand job on him Gumbud, he’s a credit to your tender handling.
http://i736.photobucket.com/albums/xx4/jemflux/irish-yoga.jpg
Five Green Shamrocks
One green shamrock, in the morning dew,
Another one sprouted,
and then there were two.
Two green shamrocks, growing beneath a tree;
Another one sprouted,
and then there were three.
Three green shamrocks, by the cottage door;
Another one sprouted,
and then there were four.
Four green shamrocks, near a beehive
Another one sprouted,
and then there were five.
Five little shamrocks, bright and emerald green,
Think of all the luck
these shamrocks will bring.
ah belated St Patricks day Jem it was yesterday here in OZ and even our belated PM paid tribute with one of his dying breathes!
where have all the shamrocks gone we need them in those long and tormented days
Did you not hear Gumbud? The EU had decided to confiscate every last shamrock in the land and sell them off to they Yanks as a part payment against the money we own the European Bank for bailing us out of the banking crisis. Did you not see Obama wearing his? it was more like half an acre on his lapel than a sprig of shamrock. I only hope they don’t get their maulers on Guinness’s Brewery next.
I’m looking over a four leaf clover
That I overlooked before
First is the sunshine, the second is rain
Third is the roses that bloom in the lane
Stars, and the not so lucky.
I gazed at the stars in wonder and dismay
Who made all this or was it always this way?
I got fed up and went for a walk
Down by the canal to the turn in the fork
No one around so I let out a roar
Then a tramp hopped out from an old shed door
“You woke me up you doddery old fool”
“Oh I know you we went to the same school”
“Not me, you made a mistake
I dropped out even me passport’s a fake”
“Then go back to your sleep and forget what I’ve said
Here’s a tenner go get a bed”
And off he headed to the nearest booze shop
To spend it all on another wee drop.
The Royal Canal on Dublins Northside, was a nice place to take a stroll, in daylight that is, when darkness fell it was a pretty dangerous place to go, gangs of drinking youths and homeless tramps used the banks of the canal for shelter, the ditches and thick bushes were invested with rats but that didn’t prevent the tramps making their beds there, God help them, most of them were decent enough but some could be very violent and fly off the handle at the least thing. One decent old chap who was there longer than most was simply called Joe, Joe would spend his day looking for old returnable lemonade and beer bottles, putting them into an old coal sack slung across his back, he would then take them into a rag dealer in town and get a few bob for them, he would never ask you for money but he would say “Have yeh got a fag on yeh, I only want an eight” nobody smoked filter tips then (a mistake I see repeated over and over again in films of the 50’s) so if you offered him a Player or Woodbine he would twist it in half and give you back the other half, nobody ever took it from him but it was decent of him to offer it I always thought.
There are still places like that round here Jem, but they are mainly around the outskirts of town [Doncaster] but it’s money for drugs they are after now rather than cigarettes. It’s still nice out where I live [in the country] but as Doncaster gets bigger it won’t be long before we are joined up. Very nice poetry by the way…
http://i736.photobucket.com/albums/xx4/jemflux/royalcanal.jpg
Thanks Robert. Here’s a small stretch of the Royal Canal near to where I live, we used to swim here when we were kids, boys and girls together and never any trouble, happy days, this was taken about a year ago, they have dredged it, fitted new locks and restocked it with Perch Pike and Roach. That old grey building used to be a Ranks Flour Mill years back.
Thanks Jem, It could be round here, the path on the right is asking to be run up, but by the look of the dark clouds it had better be quick. I did most of my early swimming in the canal, they used to have a Gala every year, with swimming events and greasy pole walking. You just had to watch out for the ‘Tom Puddings’. If only life was still so relaxed and less complicated.
[CENTER]grandads triumphant return[/CENTER]
what you thought he’d died - never -just a touch of pneumonia brought on by gassing in the 1st war but nothing grandad can’t shrug off. whilst he was bed resting I negotiated with two other neighbors for northerly running rights - fortunately they were not keen gardeners so thought that our running might bring in a bit of furrowing for their neglected gardens. I had removed part of the hedges and installed rustic gates!
now was the test would granddad remember his former training - 6.30am sharp I shouted in his ear “training again” and which he leaped to his feet - grabbed his long army coat, jammed on his boats and tripped down the stairs like a prima donna - he had even remembered the chicanes in the kitchen and jumped on the spot until I opened the loo - in he went and I smartly closed the door as the grunts and farts commenced.
all went quiet and I gingerly opened the door to see him sound asleep on the loo - another shout in the ear did the trick and he was up out around the chicane kitchen again and out the door which I only just managed to open in time - this lad was doin well.
we headed up the east coast of our patch with a slight drizzle playing on our brows - grandad manage to demolish the brussel sprouts but was keeping a steady pace and heading straight for the first gate which was still closed - I charged ahead but he was on my heels to fast and I vaulted the gate and watched grandad crash straight through it - oh well just a bit of orange box wood will fix that.
we were now in hill country with the terrain rocky and uneven - grandad starting weaving from side to side and I could hear his post-pneumonia chest wheezing away but his legs were like engine pistons firing away. I managed to get to the second gate placed in the east hedge of this patch but to my alarm grandad just kept charging forwards straight through the next hedge and into Mrs Bloomfields manicured garden - this is something I had not planned.
I had to bring him down somehow - he ploughed through the first bronzed statue of hercules on the mountain and headed straight for the greenhouse. Oh my God what have I unleashed. I managed to catch up and did a bungee jump onto his left back calf - down he came stuttering and spluttering his teeth a few yards away - but I had saved the greenhouse and Mrs Bloomfield slept soundly on.
“you alright grandad I asked” - “yes he spluttered” those doodle bugs are coming over fast and furious tonight " he exclaimed. I thought we had had enough for one day and helped him to his feet and pointed him home - he managed to run straight through the hole in the hedge [make a note - to be fixed urgently!] finished off the rest of the brussel sprouts [ make another note - discuss with wif] and then through the now open kitchen door. My God I thought this will take more careful planning - once released his LSD just went berserk and the challenges of the war fields were coming back to him. this man is invincible - I’ve got an over 80’s champion on my hands but getting him out on the open road sounds daunting - but we can’t keep damaging other peoples gardens and cutting holes in hedges ???
You know what they say Gumbud “A creaking door lasts the longest” fair play to the old geezer.
They say two heads are better than one
Twice the worry, but twice the fun
How can you tell which is false and which is true
Are you talking to one or talking to the two
One is jokey and the other is sly
Things they say don’t pass me by
Often the things they blurt
are really meant to hurt
Who knows the true reality
of someone with a split personality?
I had a brother in law who suffered from schizophrenia, a very frightening disorder I think. He was married to one of the wife’s sisters and lived in Blackheath in London, he was regularly home here on holidays, I know nothing about this condition and I have only seen it happen to him once but I’ll never forget it.
The last time I had a drink with him he had a change right out of the blue, I couldn’t believe the look that came over him. There we were, four of us sitting up at the bar laughing and chatting away and buying round for round (this was about 20 years ago, the round system no longer exists now) and when it came to his round he stood back from the bar and started to sing “Buddy can you spare a dime” great, we all had a laugh, but he was deadly serious and when he finished he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a 50 pence piece and slammed it on the counter “If you lot of drunken scum can get a round out of that well and good” he was furious and wiped all the glasses off the bar counter then stormed out of the pub. We were left with our mouths open but soon got over it. About an hour later he strolls back into the pub and sits beside us, he had a smile on his face and asked “What are you having lads, it’s got a bit nippy out there now” He honestly did not remember a thing and we didn’t bring the incident up, naturally he wasn’t served and we went somewhere else, but it did scare me a bit I have to admit.
I’ve seen that happen with drunks all over the world without schizophrenia!
I know a young lady who married a tree
That swayed and waved and tiddled her knee
She married the tree ‘cos she loved the bark
But I think she married it just for a lark
Perhaps she’s mad.
I know a young lady who hugged a big trunk
She was cold sober, and not atall drunk
She hugged and hugged for an hour or more
Until the cheeks of her arse got sore
Perhaps some cream.
I know a young lady who wanted love badly
She fell for this tree and loved him so madly
She thought she into something big
But soon discovered he had only a twig
Perhaps she’ll cry.
ou!! you are naughty but I do like you!
having “attended” a state funeral today I was reminded of the writings of Ecclesiastes:
A Time for Everything
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
I think I’ve just run out of time!
