Haute Cuisine is lovely,
But here’s a little tip…
If you ever come to Yorkshire…
Stick to fish n’ Chips…
2 Likes
There was an old bloke from Yorkshire
who ate flat caps for his tea
given half a chance
he’d get up and dance
But got bloated and floated out to sea.
I might have posted these somewhere before because they are quite old …but not had light of day for a while anyway:
A moment in time has just gone
T’was there but a moment ago
The moment now is a new one
But soon even that one will go
It’s now been replaced by another
The last one just upped and went
It will stay for only a moment
Until another one’s sent.
Life’s a collection of moments
In which all our actions are caught
We only get a few million moments
Now there’s an 'orrible thought.
================
When you have a VPN at home
You can appear as if you’re not
You can seem to be in Iceland
Or maybe somewhere hot.
You can try to foil Big Brother
From Nineteen Eighty-Four
Although he is a little late
By thirty years or more.
Your search for garden tools
Can be from Timbuktu
You can search for anything you like
They’ll never know it’s you.
So wear the badge from VPN
It’ll make you feel protected
Your shopping list at Amazon
Will never be detected.
1 Like
Must be silly season 
…
When I was walking out one day
A man came up and said,
“Nice to see you Hey! Hey! Hey!
I thought that you were dead!”
I said, “There are some troubles that I’ve had
But I have seen them through
I never have been quite that bad
How on earth are you?”
He said, “Oh I can’t complain yer know”
Although I knew he would
“It’s in me back I feel the pain”
I could tell by how he stood.
The bloke had spoken as a friend
And I was trying to remember
When and what did we attend
Was it last November?
I wondered even more because
I knew we’d never met
He’d mistaken me for someone else
Or that would be my bet.
Even so, I bluffed it out
We stood and spoke then parted
Just like I knew without a doubt
Why the meeting started. 
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You have to put it out
Defy the doubt
Let folks spout
Life’s defunct without
Just chat
Ignore the Prat
Embrace the Tat
Think howszat
Keep standing
Not sat
The world is flat.
Childhood Memories
Water snails on the old mill-wheel,
Down by Snuffy-Jacks,
Picnics on the riverbank,
Grandma’s brought homemade snacks.
Sticklebacks and Minnows,
Water Voles in Buck Beck,
In and out of air raid shelters,
Playing war games, “Hit the deck!”
Climbing trees and skinning knees,
Ditches full of mud that stank,
Hide and seek in disused buildings,
Perished gas-masks in the grassy bank,
Watching alchemy performed before us,
The Blacksmith bending white hot metal,
Sinews taught whilst hammer welding,
Quenching iron ready to fettle.
Dodging cars now and then,
Playing marbles across the streets,
Rides upon the old milk-float,
Washing lines with laundered sheets.
Poppies on the Cenotaph,
Old soldiers, heads held high,
A child touches a name in bronze,
Her mother tries hard not to cry.
Woken by Church bells on Sunday mornings,
No chance now of a lie-in,
Clattering down the stairs for breakfast,
Mother winces at the din.
Fire, Police, Ambulance station,
Climbing up the old church tower,
School trips around our little village,
Listening to the clock strike the hour.
Playing kiss-chase in the playground,
Caught and pinned against a wall,
Jane was faster and stronger than me,
I really had no chance at all.
Quests to prove our childish prowess,
Who could throw the farthest stone,
Playing out ‘til street lamps glowed,
Only then did we head home.
4 Likes
some lovely lines there Fruitcake 
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Silver Surfers.
They call us all silver surfers,
Though my hair will never be grey,
I have it dyed frequently brown,
It will always be that way.
Silver Surfers are people like me
Who came to the net rather late,
Not clued up to use it you see,
Ignorance was nearly our fate,
But we struggled like mad to master,
Modern technology we could get,
With practice we soon got faster
The twenty first century we all met.
4 Likes
Letterboxing.
My friend & I have searched Dartmoor.
Following the letterbox lore
We’ve visited places we’d not have seen,
If letterboxing had never been.
From our home and base we go,
West, East, or North in rain or snow,
To Blacktor, Yes Tor, High Willhayes,
Princetown also (but not the same days).
With maps & compass, food & drink,
It’s Burrator today I think.
We’ve seen the moor in rain & fog,
(And fallen into many a bog),
In Summer sun with glorious view,
Wild plants, birds & ponies too.
So thanks to those who started our fun,
Good luck to all who carry it on,
Dartmoor boxes we hope you’ll stay,
And give pleasure to others who go that way.
4 Likes
The Gathering
At a distance black snowflakes swirling in the air
Then closer still changing like smoke clouds
Thousands of starlings wheeling everywhere
Gathering together to roost in their crowds
Then down they go in a waterfall
Cascading into the reeds
All answering the call
Like a broken string of beads
5 Likes
Now that’s what I call poetry Tiff…
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Thank you, OGF.
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Great 
thank you, Tiffany 
Aching
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Many thanks, AliceWonderland.
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Lasting Friendship
Just like our lives, many changes
With friends, as they move around,
But then, perhaps, maybe only once,
A lasting friendship is found.
No matter how you have met,
Right there from the start,
This person will have a special place
Deep within your heart.
Which lasts for years
Through everything,
The rough, the smooth,
Far distancing.
You’ll hold on to this friendship,
The storms you’ll both have weathered,
For friendship like this, in one lifetime,
Is a miracle to be treasured.
3 Likes
The Haunting of Wheal Rose
Black Damp and Fire Damp,
Seeping through the stones,
Widowmaker rock-drills,
Loosing flesh from bones.
Pasty pastry crusts and handles,
Tossed, left where they lay,
A tribute to the Piskies,
To keep bad luck at bay.
Four-man gang, digging ore,
Candles stuck to tarred felt hats,
Shooting sparks from pick on rock,
Scatter the scavenging rats.
Erupting blasting powder,
Flash-burns and a deafening roar,
Men and tools and pit-props,
Crashing to the floor
Buried in a rock-fall,
Clawing his way out,
Belton! Thomaas! Roddo!
For his workmates he did shout.
Fighting through choking dust,
The pump-rod, dimply lit,
He staggered to the ruined shaft,
To escape the crumbling pit.
The adit blocked and riser smashed,
Water gushed into the mine,
Fighting against the rushing torrent,
Towards daylight he began to climb.
Strange men with flameless lanterns,
Set upon their hats of yellow,
Horror struck, gazed down upon him,
Lit outwith carbide or tallow.
Wordless shrieks escape their mouths,
Screaming as they ascend,
Scrambling over the pit-head rim,
Actions he could not comprehend.
Children dressed in strange garb,
On piles of tailings made play,
But on seeing the dishevelled miner,
In terrorem did run away.
Looking about for reasons why,
Nobody would come near,
Then looked upon the Whin’ House,
And stood himself in fear.
No beam or engine could he see,
No whim gear was in sight,
Walls and doors and windows gone,
Put him in a terrible fright.
Now the pump and pipe and rod,
Faded before his eyes,
The once familiar landscape
He could no more recognise.
By the ruined buildings,
Where rock-stamps once did pound,
He stood stock-still, bewildered,
Downcast eyes upon the ground,
Reflected in an oily puddle,
’neath a set of rusting gears,
The man looking back at him,
Had been dead for a hundred years.
© July 2025
Wheal = Cornish word for a mine
Image of a Cornish Tin Mine. Inside would be a massive steam engine driving a massive pump-rod (or winding gear) via a massive rocking iron beam
Piskies = Cornish Pixies
Pasty = A complete cooked meal in pastry, sometimes with fruit at one end. The crusts, or sometimes pastry handles, would be used to hold the pasty then thrown away as a tribute to Mine Gods. (The practical reason for this was to prevent heavy metal poisoning transferred from the miners’ hands).
Widow-makers = Massive pneumatic drills that would shake the miners’ so badly that it would drastically reduce their lifespan.
Whin’ = Winch
Whim = Winding drum and associated drive gear.
Adit = Horizontal shaft to drain water from the mine.
Carbide = Acetylene Carbide that would produce a combustible gas when mixed with water, used to power miner’s lamps.
Black Damp = A mixture of unbreathable gases devoid of oxygen. An asphyxiant.
Fire Damp = Methane Gas
Riser = Pipe used to pump water out of a mine
Tarred Hats = A method of reinforcing hats. Early hard-hats.
Tailings = None ore-bearing spoil.
Pump-Rod = Massive wooden rod attached to one end of the massive iron beam, made in sections bolted one above the other, with valves and pumps attached to draw water up from a sump in stages from the bottom of the mineshaft.
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That gave me goosebumps, Fruitcake.
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Thanks. I’ve added a bit more at the end to explain some of the terminology.
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That’s a classic Spitty don’t worry about the critics 
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Floyd.
At the door I feel the stir
Of a furry face aquiver with purr
I turn around to look,
Take my mind from my book
His eyes are pleading
His paws are kneading
“Let me in”, he is saying
“You know me, I’m not playing”!
“That’s what I’m standing here for”!
So I rise from my chair
To let in with the air
The cat from next door.
2 Likes