Happy Father’s Day +1

Wash away the worries

Soak away the sad

Blow away the awful thoughts

Just think about your Dad!

 

If you do not have a Dad

Then think about your Mum

Remember all the cuddles

It’ll take away the glum

 

If perchance you’ve neither

Please do not despair

There’s millions in this world of ours

With tons of love to share

 

Should you still feel all alone

Just close your eyes and see

As you drift, you’ll feel the warmth

Of love and hugs from me!

Handfasting – a poem

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Handfasting_(Neopaganism)

Handfasting was very prevalent in the Hebrides, the Inner, and Outer, islands off the west coast of Scotland.

I had the unique privilege of living on St Kilda, a remote archipelago, some 45 miles West North West of North Uist, for several periods, mostly 6 weeks at a time. Stays sometimes proved to be longer, because access is always determined by the weather! In total, I spent some 8 months of my life there.

St Kilda has a strange hold on all who set foot there, rather akin to desert fever for anyone who has experienced true desert.

I follow a page, https://www.facebook.com/groups/St.KildaHebrides/ , on Facebook, dedicated to St Kilda, and, as part of advice being offered to a would be visitor, came across this poem written by Andrew Lane in 2009.

I do not know Andrew but, from what I’ve seen and read, feel that we would get on very well. He is a musician, so this may well have been written to perform. In any case, I hope that you find the poem at least a little interesting, especially those who may know nothing about the Scots, or their unique language.

Andrew has a lovely “lived in” face, and someone commented that it was obviously the result of someone’s advice:

“Smile a lot when you are young so that when you grow older, your wrinkles will all be in the right place”

THE HAND-FASTING

Oh, lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Bring the lassies from the wheel
To spin themselves a proper reel.
Bring the laddies from the loom
To weave a dance beside the groom.

Lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Bring the stoddart from the braes
And leave the hoggie to its ways.
Bring the fisher from the shore;
This man will be a boy no more.

Lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Set your creels upon the ling
And bow the fiddles till they sing.
Take the whistle from your poke
And pipe a tune for dancing folk.

Lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Set the bellyrive aboot,
And spread the meat upon the cloot.
Place the whisky pig beside
And you shall see the hand-fast tied.

Lassie, place your hand on mine, and Alastair will fetch the twine
And bind us at the wrist for aye, for this shall be our wedding day.

Stoddart – a herdsman. Hoggie – a young sheep. Bellyrive – a feast.
Cloot – cloth. Whisky pig – a whisky jar.

©Andrew Lane July 2009

 

Too Soon to Speculate: thoughts on Grenfell Tower Fire

What a brilliant article by my friend Kirsty, and what chilling reading the blog of the Grenfell Action Group makes. (Linked from the “raised again and again….”) Clearly, there has been a problem for a long time, and there is still a problem with other tower blocks. No money to cure the problem? Tough – We have to find the funding! What a great community spirit has been displayed in the aftermath, with no regard to race, colour, religion or gender.
Whether you have a faith, or none, pray that you never have to experience what those fellow human beings have had to endure, and what they have to live with for ever!

kirstwrites

Sometimes you can watch the TV news unfold its daily horrors and let it just wash over you; at other times the sheer awfulness leaves you breathless, heartsick, overwhelmed. Today is one of those other days. It’s been difficult to concentrate at work today, flicking back to the news websites every so often with a pounding heart. If this is how I’m feeling, a comfortable 200 miles away from Grenfell Tower, I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for those personally affected.

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Quid Pro Quo

images-18
I gave her quid
she gave pro quo
my new pet squid
she loves me so
she gives me hugs
with all her arms
with gentle tugs
she shows her charms
she loves me so
I’ve said before
she lets me know
she loves me more
she sucks my neck
she sucks my sides
but what the heck
she goes and hides
behind the chair
behind the shed
but she’s still there
I see her head
she likes to think
she’s one of us
she writes with ink
and takes the bus
there’s jealousy
from my dear wife
she fails to see
and gives me strife
she thinks I pay
too much attention
she doesn’t say
she fails to mention
she thinks I’ve gone
right off the grid
suggests a swan
instead of squid
but that would hurt
she’d get upset
if I did flirt
with another pet
I have to go
my squid awaits
she lets me know
that we’re just mates
but I know truth
I really know
my squid called Ruth
she loves me so!

I Loved Them Enough

For any parent whose children have yet to reach 10 years old you NEED to read this, and commit it to memory for later use.

The Chatter Blog

Each of my children, during their teenage angst years, once told me they hated me.  There was a five year age gap between them.  It was two separate occasions with years dividing the incidents.  So it wasn’t as if I was bombarded.  And each time I could see it approaching.

They didn’t mean it.

Though they were pretty vehement in their expression at the time, I knew better.

I knew they felt like they had no control.

I knew they felt like I had all of the control.

And I knew what to do.  I was ready.  Prepared.  I had this one.

I had read a story, long before this point in my life, about a parent who’s child had constantly said “I hate you”.  So when it was my turn, I borrowed from that wise parent.

When it happened I reacted with great calm.

When each child in their own…

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Flight of fancy #1

images-12

If she could fly, she would

and then, she found, she could;

she fully understood,

and thought it very good!

 

She’s now accomplished in

deep diving with a fin.

She’s into drinking gin,

and almost every sin!

 

I think that I’m in love.

Perhaps, without a shove

she fits me like a glove.

She’s sent from heaven above!

 

Married now so long,

we’re like a favourite song.

Our love is oh so strong.

Whatever could go wrong?

 

Alas she fell and bled,

was injured on the head.

My life is full of dread.

She flew away quite dead!

My life #14 – A late Valentine

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Not just a little late, but over 45 years since I first wrote this in a Valentine’s card. I can’t find the copy I wrote at the time but I have remembered it for all these years. Don’t know what that says about me!

It was sent to my long term, off and on, teenage, and into my twenties, girlfriend whom I shall love for ever!

If you don’t see my name, look at it acrostically.

Prolific enterprises turn eventually recumbent. My attribution turns to hieroglyphics, excogitate what’s said!

I was rather pleased with it at the time!

The farmer, the puppy and the little boy 

A lovely tale here from Jack Fussell. There’s plenty more where this came from. Go have a look!

Fighting Alzheimer's

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the 4 pups, and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard.
As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt tug on his overalls.
He looked down into the eyes of a little boy.
“Mister,” he said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.”
“Well,” said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat of the back of his neck, “these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.”
The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket,

he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. “I’ve

got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?”
“Sure,” said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle. “Here Dolly!” he…

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My life #12 – My blog before blogs

When I first joined the Army, in September 1964, I started a journal, of sorts, that I called “Special thoughts and feelings”. I would lie in bed at night and write myself into another world, well away from the stresses and strains of Army training.

I jotted down a few poems, a few thoughts, a few hopes, a few dreams.

I listed the words to “House of the rising sun”, and made a list of songs that I could play on guitar.

unspecified-25I rewrote the collection on Sunday 19th March 1967 and retitled it “Private poems and prose by Pete + thoughts in words in writing”. Unfortunately, at that time, I omitted some of my earlier work, thinking it unworthy of record, or not wanting to be held to account. I regret that!

The book I used for the rewrite was a hardcover indexed book issued by Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, S.O.BOOK 345.

unspecified-24 I made the mistake of writing CONFIDENTIAL , in red, at the top and bottom of the book.

Because I was in a job that dealt with matters confidential, and higher, the next time I went through Customs I was stopped, and held for some considerable time, while the book was scrutinized in depth!

At that time I was madly in love with Susan. I had been since the age of 14 when she had moved to my nearest village, when her father became Head of a nearby Secondary School. I recall that she had previously lived in Preston, Lancashire.

A lot of content, therefore, revolved around thoughts of Susan.

unspecified-26 I intend, over time, to share the content of this “Blog before Blogs were invented”.

I shall record the entries exactly as they were written, but may add comments viewed from a “few” years distance!

There are odd scraps of paper in the book with some complete, some incomplete, and some “what on earth is this meant to be” scribblings. There’s also a “work of art”.

There is one particular poem, titled “Or is it?” that I should have copyrighted. The first line is “Walk in the air……….” I’m sure I could have argued the case for some rights to “The Snowman” song!

Having whetted your appetite, I’m not holding myself to any timetable.