ooeer - he’s doin a flouncy - these flouncies are becomin quite popular around here - well here I go “flounce flounce flounce”
“off with his head” said the Queen as poor Alice stood dumbfounded - " why is everyone suddenly flouncing asked Alice?"
well I think it started a few threads back with spittie introducing his new bunny girls that he is building his new man den for!! said the mad hatter!
flounce flounce flounce!!:shock:
I have special dispensation cos I canny lift up high enough to make a bit ‘r’!!
I just remain piste.
I don’t mind what anyone wants to call me as long as it’s not “Mr. Pink” as in that film with the bank robbers, forget the name of it now, but I don’t blame the fella refusing to accept Mr. Pink, I think all the other colours were taken and pink was the last one. Mr. Blue is OK, call me Mr. Blue…ah ooh ah ooh.
“I’m Mr. Blue
When you say you love me (oh Mr. Blue)
Then prove it by going out on the sly
Proving your love isn’t true
Call me Mr. Blue”
(The Fleetwoods)
A few Co Wexford piccies from our grand tour last year.
https://s20.postimg.cc/ky1s0xsh9/21_Upstream.jpg
https://s20.postimg.cc/4m1dm29v1/28_Dunbrody_Abbey.jpg
https://s20.postimg.cc/gwg3hjast/18_Cheekpoint_Regatta.jpg
https://s20.postimg.cc/kq9jqos4t/10_River_Suir_Toll_Bridge.jpg
I am indebted to my friends in scribbles who keep me grounded
Lovely Pics Fruity.
My story.
In the beginning
I was born in Windsor Berkshire, I can’t remember it being called Royal Berkshire back then, so I guess we were just Berks.
My parents who married very young made sure they bought a nice detached house before I came along.
I was wanted and very spoilt, my Mother only had brothers, so a girl for her to lavish girly things on was a blessing.
I was the apple of my Dad’s eye, he adored me, and as I was the first born Grandchild to my paternal family, they also lavished gifts and affection on me. My paternal Grandmother had lost her husband and one of her daughters during the war, my Fathers brothers and sisters had no children, well that is untrue actually, one of his sisters who had learning problems, got herself pregnant and unable to care for the child herself, the child was adopted by my Paternal Grandmother, and I was told she was my Aunt, not my cousin, I found this out as an adult.
So, as a preschool child, I mainly spent my time with adults.
Until my Mother decided to place me in a Nursery, to mix with other children. The first day I was taken there by my Mother, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like playing with sand with other children, I had my own sandpit at home. I threw water over the boys, who tried to make friends with me, I didn’t like playing with children, I liked adults.
It came to the afternoon nap, there was a room lined with small beds, they had horrid scratchy grey blankets, and I wanted to go home.
I suppose it was a break for the staff, so when I saw we were no longer supervised, I crept out, and I was off!
How I managed to escape undetected is beyond me.
I can remember having no clue where I was, a small child wandering down a leafy lane, wondering where my home was.
I came across a Gipsy camp, hidden in a clearing, of what must have been private land. I must have worried them, as they were very kind to me, but, how can a four-year-old relate their address? I liked the Gypsy camp and the fact that their children did not attend any school. They didn’t have any baths and were allowed to smoke, and the music, oh they played music and danced, I liked that.
I was given some strange food, then some of the women decided to walk me back up the lane, to see if I knew where I had come from.
By the time we reached the building where the nursery was, the police had arrived, I was scared of police, I think the Gypsies were to, they prompted me to go on alone.
Then I saw my Mother in floods of tears, I ran to her open arms. I have no recollection of what happened after, only that the nice policeman took us home, and I NEVER went to nursery again.
My son took me to an Airshow at Ragley hall today. His car has a massive screen with the Sat Nav built in, what a wonderful invention, seeing a graphical representation of the road ahead, and so non discriminatory, there is also an audible account for drivers with dodgy eyesight.
No, but they can help if they want, providing they are prepared to get down, and get dirty.
Lovely places in Wexford, It’s one of my favourite counties. You take terrific photo’s fruity, a joy to look at, thanks for posting them.
The wife and me have been to most counties here, but we’ve never been across the border into Northern Ireland yet, there are some lovely spots we’d like to see up there, maybe soon.
So you were a rebel from an early age Sweetie. Great story, concise, and a lot of action packed in there. The part about your short stay with the gypsies could be fattened up using you imagination and it would make a great children’s adventure story, Enid Blyton style, take Gummy, Pug, Solo, and a dog into the story and call it “Five go Missing in Berkshire” or just Five Berks go Missing.;-)
Aww Jem, we seem to have lost Pugsy Bear along the way somehow.
It is a true story, and I will post more.
If you would like me to embellish with the others, I might try.
But, I think in truth, I am the only Berk on here, although I do like the Royal bit. xxxx
I worked at the ‘Royal Berks’ for two years and it was magic - I fell in love with a local girl from one of the many outlying villages and she was magic too! - the hospital food wasn’t very magic though!
Villages? You should post this love story.
Good Night lovelies.
I do believe it was Caversham but the memory dims and my memory in those days was swamped! AND when I tell a love story I hate leaving the best bits out - right Jem?
My name on here is RJ
That’s how it is and will stay!
I don’t like small ‘r’s, though there’s one in the Mars
But I’m RJ and will have my day
My ‘mom’ never called me RJ
When she yelled ‘no you can’t go and play’
There is work to be done which comes before fun
So get on with it now or I’ll flay??
They never called me RJ through school years
But who does when ya messin with peers?
But once I started ‘work’ then RJ was a perk
And I wore it smartly on monogrammed shirts!
Nurse Gillian won’t call me RJ
But for her it’s got to be her own way
BUT ON LESISURE SCRIBBLES, I DON’T WONT TO SQUIBBLES
SO IT’S R WITH A R – ok? ………………………………………….
posted with all my love from Roo to Christopher Robin with abject apologizes [that’s Robin with a capital R]
© Roo
Nice one Gumbud.
erhhm hate to quibble RJ but seeing as you’ve been doing so - my name does NOT have a capital g - OK!
Gummy would you kindly stop shouting at RJ, he ain’t deef yet ya know, he won’t be seventy for a couple of months to come. Then we will officially initiate him into the over 70’s section, give him a ribbon a card and a badge (I can hear him mutter “I don’t want your stinking badges”) He will then be an old fart a la carte.;-)
I must think of a poem for scribblers.
I sometimes get a shock when I peep in.
Just call me baby, baby, baby:mrgreen:
I have so much to learn;-)
Did you lot know, Computers and Data have been around for centuries, some characters were named with this in mind, take Anne Boolean for example.
… and Russ Conway was on about pixils eons ago.
