Kerfuffle, always wanted to type that, BTW, Jems post was very funny.
Hang on in there Sweetie, there is madness in the madness.
I like that group.
Jem is a precious Gem.
They can be, have you ever seen the expressions on some peoples faces when they have to scoop up a dogs nuisance?
Where have you all gone?
Do you want a rhyme or s song?
I do love the old movie stars
I also love to see the old cars
I think it’s time a posted a quiz
Just let me know, it will be posted in a whiz
Is it ok to talk about Scribbles in the past tense, was it ever free and liberated, is it time for a thread autopsy.
I must post more on this thread.
I promise a story tomorrow.
For now, it is Good Night Scribbles. X
I once had the most incredible misfortune to share a 1st class railway compartment with a man who at first seemed quite normal but wasnt.
He droned on and on about sadism, zoophilia & necrophllia.
I trumped him with a venomous
… Sorry pal, you are flogging a dead horse
Blimey Young Robert, that took me by surprise.
Oh! Mr Porter, what shall I Do?
I want to go to Birmingham
And they’re taking me on to Crewe
Oh the lovely Scribbles
Grow less and less each day
Not the without a chum
Cos he is far away
Inappropriate?
Unsavoury?
groundbreaking?
liberating?
or just not nice.
I have no recall of posting this
very worrying
Oh dear, you forgot???
Best get Nurse Vivian to calm you down.
Fear not Sweetie our little treasure
For it’s not about numbers nor measure
The crew may be cut, but we’re not in a rut
So carry on at your own leisure. ;-)
The old house party’s.
“Lady Greta Donnington throws one of those party’s that when you come home you feel like you haven’t been anywhere”
Sherlock Holmes to Watson describing a wealthy lady aristocrat who hasn’t a clue how to entertain socially.
It brought back memories to me.
I must say I’ve been stuck in a few of those party’s in me day, usually some snobby affair in one of my bosses houses on the south side, you know, they give you an invitation you can’t refuse.
A good description by Holmes, utterly bored into a dream like state of nowwhereness, Limbo parties without the dancers I used to call them.
Even if I say so myself, Phyllis and me threw some great parties in our younger days, hooleys we called them here, great for birthdays, anniversaries, christenings, special occasions etc., nobody could afford to have these occasions in hotels then, and the wife is terrific at preparing the food, big doorstep slices of freshly baked loaf bread and plates of Limerick ham, cheese, beef, ribs, pigs feet, etc., help herself to whatever you fancy, none of your eight of a sausage on a stick kind of thing, and we always had a fine selection of drinks, the Guinness was on tap same as the pub, none of yer gassy bottled stuff. We had many musician friends who played for the love of it, and we played records on the radiogram too.
We always got on well with the neighbours and they were the first to be invited, and they had plenty of notice beforehand, so we never bothered anyone with the music, music to suit all tastes young and old, they went on till the small hours of the morning, and when they all went home they knew they had a good time, ah some smashing memories, God be with the days.
I knew a geezer, and his better half who threw some parties, I still refuse to acknowledge the result of these celebrations, given that the geezer had the worse case of OCD I have ever seen and, such parties would have had to have had such random planning, it must have been the Geezettes fantasy.
I love a good party.
The problem being, most people end up in the kitchen.
I ain’t posting that song, no conformation here.
Before anyone starts, I know what I mean.