Seen on my morning walk #1

Walking through long grass this morning when I disturbed a young pleasant couple canoodling.

I don’t know who was the most shocked, me, or them!

They disappeared very quickly into nearby woodland, he swearing at the top of his voice, and she screaming loudly.

Another beautiful walk.

 

Damn autocorrect  –  “pheasant”

How did we manage without sex education. — Broadsides – A collection of bits and pieces

I bet you spill your drink whilst reading this very serious article from John!

We didn’t know how to kiss.  No one told us how.  No one showed us what to do.  There was very little on the TV  and the kind of films we went to see on Saturday mornings didn’t have any kissing in them.  Abbott and Costello:  no kissing, Tarzan: no killing, Dean Martin and Jerry […]

How did we manage without sex education. — Broadsides – A collection of bits and pieces

Lundi limerick #100

A lady from Folkestone in Kent

was fêted wherever she went

her ears were pointed

and both knees disjointed

and her back was incredibly bent

 

Folkestone is a port town on the English Channel, in south-east England.  It was an important harbour and shipping port for most of the 19th and 20th centuries.

There has been a settlement in this location since the Mesolithic era. A nunnery was founded by Eanswith, granddaughter of Æthelberht of Kent in the 7th century, who is still commemorated as part of the town’s culture. During the 13th century it subsequently developed into a seaport and the harbour developed during the early 19th century to provide defence against a French invasion, and expanded further after the arrival of the railway in 1843. The harbour’s use has diminished since the opening of the nearby Channel Tunnel and stopping of local ferry services, but still remains in active use.

Sadly, although fêted, the lady was also fated to an early demise from complications due to her bone problems!

Lundi limerick #97

A lassie from Ilkley who swore

that she lived with a wolf on the moor

said there’s nowt wrong with that

or not wearing a hat

a traditional life’s such a bore

 

Habitation in Ilkley dates from the Mesolithic period, from about 11,000 BC onwards. It is in one of the most beautiful areas of the United Kingdom, The Yorkshire Dales, alongside the River Wharfe. You can read more about the town here.

lkley Moor is part of Rombalds Moor, the moorland between Ilkley and Keighley (pronounced Keethly) in West Yorkshire, England. The moor, which rises to 402 m (1,319 ft) above sea level, is well known as the inspiration for the Yorkshire “county anthem” On Ilkla Moor Baht ‘at (dialect for ‘on Ilkley Moor without a hat’).

 

 

 

 

Rapid rhyme #26

 

I’m feeling a little light-headed

My beautiful tresses have gone

I managed a barber’s appointment

Since March there have simply been none

 

 

When younger I served in the army

so never had long hair or curls

At the time it wasn’t important

the uniform attracted the girls

 

but later I wished I’d been able

to mirror the hippies and groups

to see what life was in the sixties

instead of being part of the troops!

Lundi limerick #92

Knickers in Norwich are said

to be orange, or yellow, or red

No wives ever roam

when the soldiers come home

you will find they are waiting in bed

 

Over recent weeks I have given a brief description of where the town is, what it’s famous for, and other trivia associated with the place. This week you’re not getting that. Tough! You’ll have to look up wikipedia on this link! 

Instead, a brief explanation of the verse above:

During the Second World War servicemen were allowed to send Forces Mail home free of charge but they were restricted in what they could write. They could not say where they were (most did not know anyway!), what they were doing, and they were mostly only allowed to send a pre formatted and part pre printed military postal form. This meant they had to be brief in what they wrote.

This led to a much used shorthand to impart what they wanted to say.  Many will know of the acronym SWALK which meant “sealed with a loving kiss”. Other acronyms can be found here. 

NORWICH was (K)nickers off ready when I come home!

 

 

 

Lundi limerick #89

A lady called Betty from Quorn

whose hips were incredibly worn

laid blame on her dancing

and all of the prancing

encountered whilst working in porn

 

I have shamelessly copied the following from the wikipedia entry for  Quorn:

The first known evidence of the village is in the Lincoln Episcopal Registers for 1209–1235, as Quernendon. Other variations of the village name over the centuries include Querne, Quendon, Querendon, Quarendon, Qaryndon, Querinden, Querondon, and Quernedon.

The quarrying of stone in Quorn began at a very early age at Buddon Wood, on the edge of the parish. Granite millstones were quarried in the early Iron Age, and under the Romans stone was quarried for building in Leicester. Some of the larger millstones can still be seen in the area, however these days they are either used as garden ornaments, or worked into seats or slabs.

Quorn Hall, off Meynell Road on the eastern edge of the village, was built for the Farnham family in about 1680. It became the home of renowned fox hunter Hugo Meynell in 1753. He established his pack of hounds there, where it continued under later masters until 1905, thus giving a name to the famous Quorn Hunt. Three Royal Navy ships have been named HMS Quorn after the hunt.

The meat substitute Quorn derives its name from this village, and began production in 1985.

 

 

Lundi limerick #87

Rita from Richmond in Surrey

ate nothing but cabbage and curry

her stomach was loaded

it sadly exploded

she’s now just a bucket of slurry

 

The borough of Richmond was abolished in 1965 when it was replaced by the larger London Borough of Richmond upon Thames, and Surrey County Council was replaced here by Greater London local government institutions, at which time the ceremonial county also changed.

Richmond is definitely a place I could never afford to live and, in  any case, I much prefer Richmond in Yorkshire!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rapid rhyme #22

Easter Sunday, boiler’s broke

phone the gas, they send a bloke

social distance makes it hard

shout to him across the yard

 

Cat goes crazy, races round

scratches bloke then goes to ground

launches right across his head

goodness me I think he’s dead

 

Thank the Lord he’s coming round

the cat once more has gone to ground

the boiler well and truly broken

the bloke at least has now awoken!

 

No cats, or blokes, were hurt in the writing of this poem! The boiler, however, is crying – all over the once dry bedding and towels. Happy Easter everyone.