Monday, 28 October 2013

I can't do this anymore...

When you write a blog...
I think the criteria you must meet is...

1.  Be informative

2.  Be fun and full of fizz

3.  Say and do outrageous things

4.  Be entertaining

5.  Make folk chuckle

6.  Swear... if appropriate...

7.  Without fear of folk pulling the plug
on being a follower, which take it from me they will

8.  Be political

 9.  Not have a care

10.  And the most important in my book...
be true to yourself and your beliefs

So for the time being...
I'm signing off...
Alright I am fully aware I might be 
blogging's answer to Frank Sinatra
and will have more come backs than
is good for a girl...
but hey-ho...



Saturday, 19 October 2013

I'm in deep mourning...

no, not this time for Lettice.
For the integrity of our politicians.

This government I liken to Jimmy Savile...
They are raping our country for their own evil ends.
By turning a blind eye, we the public could be likened 
to the police and the many others 
that were in the pay of that ghastly paedophile...

Why are we doing it?
God knows?

For example...
once the law is passed to get the Chinese
to 'kindly' sort out our
 wonderful nuclear energy programme
for us...

can the next party elected, reverse the it?
Of course they can't!

The reason in my view is that as 
George Osborne says

'Otherwise the taxpayer will have to pay!'

His real meaning is, his party  doesn't want to lose votes by
raising taxes.   This is despite the fact that we would then keep
 the energy provisions that haven't 
already been flogged off, under our own control.

Smog and pollution of the past...
here we come!
The Chinese will then have...
 make no mistake about it...
our tacit agreement by us sitting by 
doing bugger all
and letting it happen.
They've screwed their own country
now it's our turn.

Friday, 18 October 2013

As we sat across the...

Friday night table we got to
reminiscing about past experiences.
Sadness overlaid our evening meal.

I make no excuse about us grieving for a dog...
a very special dog for all that.
Those that don't get it...
look away now...
in fact,  not to put too fine a point on it,
best you... be gone.

Alright I know where you might be coming from and
I can understand...
with all the evil in the world...
why pine the loss of a

Hold tight is it dog on dog?
Or man on man?
The world's problems are coming from
the 'higher' species...

Saturday, 12 October 2013

Dad always said...

'Don't kiss the dog!'

Me being a spoilt brat always replied


And of course over the years carried on
doing just that.
Planting a kiss on the top
of their heads, where is the harm?

Last thing every night, I would knee
down to Lettice kiss her and say

'If kisses were pounds you'd
be a millonaire!'

Ted always waited patiently, while
I  settled her and said all the stupid things;
 the fact she couldn't hear me was 
neither here nor there.

On Lettice's last afternoon, I kept myself busy,
 sorting and tidying, all in her sight line.
She slept and sometimes woke 
to watch me, all was very calm. 

My greatest concern was that I would lose it, 
and convey my fear to her.
How I managed to keep calm, 
I don't know, but I did.

I cleaned my teeth, and washed my hands in the 
Pears soap, that would every night in her world 
have been the last smell she would have of me.

The vet came and asked if I'd experienced
this before, she then gently explained
what would happen.

Lettice saw their arrival and didn't seem 
at all phased by it.
She was ready, I could see that.

Ted said his farewells.
I sat at her head, kissed her and said

'Night, night!'

Very gently they shaved her paw,
 the first injection went in,
the next I didn't see, as
I was kissing her good bye.

Lettice was dead. 

In happier times

Monday, 7 October 2013

A Proud Dog...


14.2.1998  -  7.10.2013

Lettice... the latest...

After much discussion we came to the decision
that this week we would get our lovely
vet to come to put Lettice to sleep.

The weekend had been a roller-coaster 
ride of emotions.

On Saturday evening, we were
planning to be out for a couple of hours.
Ted was singing in a choir at the next village,
the plan was for us to go separately in order
 for me to pop home and check that she was  alright.
The show was a sell-out...
Am-drams at its best..
Shepherds pie too!
My ticket was bought... the show must go on!

Lettice was sick and decidedly unhappy,
standing by me with head bowed.

'Take my ticket and hopefully someone
can enjoy the show, free!'

Cosy in her bed with one of my scarves
as a comfort blanket; I sat on the floor beside her
 telling her, that she was free to go.
Wishing in my heart that 
she would heed my words.

She settled and when Ted got back, we sat
talking through what we had always said,
that we would do the right thing
earlier rather than later.

At 3 a.m. when Ted went down to let her out
she was okay.
I got up at 6 a.m. and sitting quietly reading, 
all seemed normal.

What wasn't normal was the great lump of
pain in my chest, which sat 
like a physical presence.

All yesterday she seemed bright,
the small meals, little and often, she kept down.
Yesterday was a good day.
Which then of course begged the question...
'Were we doing it too early?'
We talked, we rationalised, we convinced
ourselves that the decision was sound.

This morning, she was sat in her bed looking bright and alert,
which only turned the screw even tighter.

I phoned the vets to ask if our vet
 would call me back to discuss the
way forward.

He was on holiday and wouldn't be back until next Monday!

'It was meant to be!'

A week's respite.

The trouble was, not long after the call,
she once again was sick and looking mis.

She is now sat quite content in her bed after
a soupçon of chicken.

She, as far as we can tell isn't in
any pain, if she was then naturally 
we would act.

Obviously if she does go downhill, we will
 get another vet to come. 

And so it goes on.

Saturday, 5 October 2013

The vipers nest of...

cables, by the law of Sod
we threw away last Sunday.

The scrap metal man was only 
too pleased to take them.

What do we need today?
The cable that connects the Canon wireless printer
to my new laptop.

Wireless?  I hear you cry...
you don't need a cable.

By our own admission, we aren't
computer whizz kids,
nor would I want to be.

The trouble is, the printer will scan
things to the computer,
but not print bumpf from the computer.

We have followed all directions,
stuck the disc in to start over 
 and still the same.

We discover looking at the instruction book,
us old folks think a hard copy
is preferable to on-line help;
reason being, the computer lobs the odd
mumbo-jumbo computer speak at you...

we need the lead in order to reset it.
Can you cotton-picking believe it?

It is so frustrating that we haven't got that innate
computer understanding that
 most people many years our junior seem to have.

The biggest puzzle to me,
 is the fact it works one way
and not the other.

Addendum... Nay, a sodding great humongous... Addendum...

I've only gone and blown the doors oft!  By trial and error, I've sorted out the problem...
How, heaven only knows?  The only trouble now is... has common sense come and bitten me on the bum... 

I bloody hope not... as I've made my name by being ditsy with tact having no place in my life.

Crimplene and bobble slippers here we come............  Hold tight!

Friday, 4 October 2013

After a lifetime of always...

looking on the bright side,
and in the main succeeding,
I've hit a sodding great rock face.
My face is flattened, my head is pounding;
not unlike Jerry in the Tom and Jerry
cartoons where he falls back...
flat, squashed, squished.

The reason is...
She is coming to the end of her days;
thin, eating, but sometimes bringing it
all back up again.

This morning taking her out for her little stroll,
we were slower than usual. 

She has taken to sitting out in the utility room,
where as the weather changes, you have to ask yourself...
'Is this a good idea?'

This old dog that everyone looks at with
pity when out walking, doesn't seem so bad
when back at home.

Last night I looked up attaxia, and the right time
to euthanise your elderly dog.

With head in hands and tears ready to fall, 
the expression that jumped out of the page was
'It is better to be a week early, than a day late!'

I've always said I would do the right thing by her
and I will.  But how blooming hard that is to

People say she will tell you.
I just don't want to leave it until she cries
out trying to tell me.

Thursday, 3 October 2013

Today is National Poetry Day...

I can be an old cynic at times...
well to be brutally frank...
most of the time...
today is National Poetry Day.

And yes, every day is some
National day
National Cones Hotline Day
National nose picking Day
National Bunion Day
National Tofu Day
National You Day
National Me Day
National ? Day

I love words, trite I know:
 I don't care!

Today my poem...

The Mower

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.

Philip Larkin

Wednesday, 2 October 2013


I need some help and
sage advice.

Years ago I joined a staff
lottery in an 'important' household
(well in their opinion)
I left in 1998 and every new year I've sent off
my £52 subs.
I phone the cook for a news catch-up
once a year or so, and apart from 
a smallish win in the early days
we haven't won a bean.
Any small wins have been ploughed back.

Now the lottery is going up to
£2 what do I do?
Any suggestions?

I could send the outstanding amount until the year end
and then call it a day.
The thought of sending off £104 every year
doesn't have the same appeal.
By the law of Sod, you can bet your bottom dollar
that they will then go on to win!

I ought to own up, the sole reason 
for me being in the syndicate is to knock the family
off the tabloid front pages...

'So&So's staff lottery syndicate
win squillions of millions of quids'

Not altogether showing myself in a good light
I know; however perhaps you might feel the
same when you'd worked your socks off 
for a paltry pittance.