Wednesday, 19 March 2014

With every fibre of...

my being I will endeavour
 to resist the naff gene.
 I can feel it awakening
deep, deep, deep in the very bowels
of my creaking bod.

This is the reason

our latest project...
and as we are off to the seaside today,
I'm ashamed to say I am partial
to a little saucy seaside naff.

An artistically placed piece of driftwood,
a bucket and spade,
a tastefully painted concrete dolphin,
beautiful plastic butterflies to sit on
the wooden mushroom, that I must say,
 my gardening guru at Scotney
was horrified to see me buy.
His view of my rusted, flying as if by magic
flowers accompanied by hummingbirds, was priceless.
They lay in wait for Ted, their soul aim in life...
to decapitate him.
Brightly coloured windmills,
A barometer in the shape of a galleon,
Kon Tiki fashioned out of lolly sticks.
Heart-shaped pebbles from the beach slipped
seamlessly down my left knicker leg.
A saucy songstress in red spotty dress reclining on
a deck chair who warbles every time you pass her by.

The list is endless.  
I will however draw the line at a gnome 
complete with fishing rod.
Heaven forbid that you should think
me a daft tart or worse than that...
one with no taste.


  1. Replies
    1. We did Carol and can you believe I came home with nothing?


  2. I understand completely. If let loose in a cutesy garden supply/decoration store, I can easily fill my car and later, yard, with an overabundance of tchotchkes.

    1. Oooh... tchotchkes? a word I've never heard before.


  3. I love to be by the seaside too, even in the middle of blooming Yorkshire. I have just completed quite a tasteful urn piled high with shells, but my favourites are my strings of pebbles with holes through them, hanging from branches and gate posts. Some call them witches or hag stones...

    1. Stones with holes, I always look but they're not that easy to find. Perhaps you have special powers?


  4. My pockets are always bulging with 'treasures' found on the beach such a large piece of rusted metal, several huuuuuuggggggee branches of driftwood which now lie untouched in the garden - awaiting a very arty project ha ha. I think a nice gnome would complete the picture x

    1. What is it about driftwood that we love I wonder? Is it the action of the elements... the wind, the sea, the salt? The beauty of time and tide... just wish I could love my wrinkles with the same degree of delight.