I urgently need to locate some traces.
Along with burning my bra I desperately
need some to kick over.
I don't know whether it's the weather,
but I'm all of a doodah.
too lazy to do anything,
'Oh alright... Eat!'
I've suddenly had a brain-wave...
Before my passport photo needs replacing with
the phizog of the old crone that is now me.
I will take to the open road, rail-track and sky.
Aaron, a long time ago told me of a book he'd read
about a postman who on the cusp of retiring,
had a cunning plan.
He decided that the letters in the box he had just
emptied for the final time,
he would deliver personally.
With that in mind...
Today, I think I'll iron my red spotty handkerchief,
locate a sturdy stick from the hedge and be off.
My itinerary will be as follows...
Derbyshire to walk and talk with Mr. YP,
he's in need of an old gal's wisdom.
I will then go to Trelawnyd, sneak into the
hen house and give Mr John Grey a 'lovely
surprise' on gathering his morning eggs.
Up to Stafford to see Viv; with the sturdy stick,
I will whack her. I'll show her the meaning of
raw talent. My only-child jealousy rides again!
From there off up to Jayne, who I think
is near the wild Northumberland coast.
Over the dye bath we can sit
Weeing into a pot will fix our friendship,
and act as a mordant for her latest batch
Travelling down-country I will
call on Nilly and Mr N.
who knowing my luck will be at Ardingly.
Linc's next... Afternoon tea, with home-made
dog biscuits, jam and cream.
Made by a fragrant woman who resembles
Mary Archer with grey hair.
I will survey her garden and much against my better
judgement, advise on my newly emerging take on
Roughty-Toughty Picturesque gardening.
Elaine, will quickly get on the phone
to her bro, who on hearing I'm hoving to,
will instruct Gunnera, his valet to inform
Gladys, his wife, the housekeeper, to air the West wing.
By this time in need of a complete change of scene,
a charabanc to City Airport,
where a private jet will fly me down to
see Cro in France.
From there, I will fly business class to
Angola and with Marcia's help, kick Tom into touch.
She will get her kitchen.
A short hop to Cairns,
the birthplace of those yappy dastardly dogs.
Where I will chill with the lovely Carol.
Back home with plans for my next foray
into blogland. If you haven't been
mentioned this time...
be afraid, very afraid...