As I pulled my elasticated...

jim-jam bottoms up to my

armpits, I got to thinking...

Funny folk these bloggers.

Here, there, everywhere they sit,

filling cyber-space with a lot of tosh

and minutiae of their lives.

A large part of me longs to meet them,

although in my heart I'm afraid.

Will the men and women live up to my imaginings?

Worse than that will I, theirs?

Definitely not, methinks.

As I've written before, I have got previous,

re. inviting folk back here.

It sounds trite, but I'm going to say it anyway...

I really do love people;

to chat, to laugh, to share experiences,

good and bad, is to me, a joy.

Here is a taster of the folk I would invite

to my 

'Mrs Dale's Diary'

of blogging chums party.

And in no particular order

Viv of hensteeth

Now I have met Viv, via me visiting her

blog, buying a few of her 

wondrous wearable works of art.

And being a disciple, happy to sit at her

feet during one of her workshops.

Those of you that probably have a rough idea

of me by now, will know that my green eyes

(and yes they are)

flash with that dratted emotion

called envy.

She is such a lovely talented lass.

 My love for her is tempered with a 

huge dose of feather-spitting, resentfulness.

Getting her in my rib-cracking hugs,

every fibre of my being, strains across

 bosom on bosom, in the vain effort to absorb,

even the slightest sensation of her skills.

It don't work!

Next up...

The one, the only, the Panama hatted,

the Harris Tweed encased...

Mr Owl Wood

Born with a silver spoon in his mouth,

his first car was a Jowett Javelin.

A left wing intellectual.

He excels in a wacky, wicked, without resorting

to rude words, take on life.

He is kind and caring and doesn't easily take

offence.

Another point in his favour, is his love of dogs.

An all-round good egg.

Nilly Hall

Mr N and Nilly on occasion, sit by the pond in our

village eating pork pies and feeding the ducks.

Do they think to phone and call in?

Oh no siree!

Nilly, I think, is worried she might be

a disappointment...

You and me both kid...

that's the risk we all take.

And yes, I can see where you're coming from.

They live not too far away from my old stamping ground

in Yorkshire, so lots to talk about.

John Gray

I know the spelling isn't right,
however I liked the image!

A funny man, not afraid to

call a spade a spade. 

He talks about the unmentionables,

the ordinary, in such a way to make it

strangely extraordinary.

It goes without saying I'm deeply,

evilly envious of his world-wide followers.

Comments for each post, he counts in 

dozens.

I don't mind admitting I've idly

flirted with the idea of booking a

charabanc trip to Tralawnyd and...

wacking him in the Scotch egg department.

Trouble with that idea is, now he's

joined Weight Watchers, by the time I've saved up the money

for the trip, he'll have a tummy like a six pack.

Jayne

Another talented lady with fabric and stuff.

As I sit here, two of her creations are sitting

forlornly on the shelf, sad at not have a 

living shelf to decorate.

My eyes are flashing again!

At the talent in the folds of fabric 

and depth of dyeing.

She laughs at my blog and always comments. 

Mr Yorkshire Pudding

He's Yorkshire, that makes him okay

in my ¼ Yorkshire bit.

But wait, he can get crabby,

about sloppy grammaticals, and

he has been known on occasion to

take things to heart.

He travels, and I reckon his teaching is

overlaid with a large dose of

irreverence.  His pupils the world over,
love him.

I get the feeling when young, he returned

the love letters sent by Shirley

marked with red pen.

7/10
Must try harder.

A kind, kind man with a heart of gold.

Elaine

The far more sensible and grounded,

sister of Mr Owl Wood.

Elaine empathises with me about

our nearing the end of our lovely Lettice's life.

Especially as just recently she lost her

much loved Toby.

She loves my raggerty-taggerty

garden.  I'm deeply envious of her

'Uniformaty is a Fine Thing' garden

as practised by the head gardener there.

Cro

Driving through Lingfield I always

think of Cro.

Living in France, every day we get a taste

of the artist in residence; his

skills at stretching a canvas far exceeds

his tinkering with lawnmowers.

He'll hate me for saying this I'm sure,

he reminds me of my greatest love

the one, the only, the very left-wing... Alan Bennett.

Why?

Because I get the feeling that he like A.B. 
has an inbuilt grumpiness gene.

Hippo

Last but by no means least...

this man who likes us all to think

 how wicked he is.

However, we all know better,

he's an absolute

diamond geezer.

Nuff said!

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