Lundi limerick #76

OK, I have to admit defeat. There is, apparently, no village, town, or city in the UK that starts with an X!

There are plenty that start with EX, such as:

Exe – Somerset
Exe – Devon
Exeter – Devon
Exley – Calderdale
Exminster – Devon
Exmoor – Somerset
Exmouth – Devon
Exnaboe – Shetland Islands
Exning – Suffolk
Exted – Kent
Exton – Hampshire

Although the great google in the sky says that Exe exists in both Devon and Somerset I can only find the River Exe, which I was aware of.

It rises at Exe Head, near the village of Simonsbath, on Exmoor in Somerset, 5.2 miles from the Bristol Channel coast, but flows more or less directly due south, so that most of its length lies in Devon. It is 35 miles long.

The longest river in the UK is the River Severn which is 220 miles long and has the greatest flow in England and Wales. It has been the source of a great deal of flooding recently.

Not that any of this gives me a limerick, so here goes.

 

Sexy-Sadie from Exe in Devon

thought she’d died and ended in heaven

but sad to recall

she had suffered a fall

and was drowning quite fast in the Severn

 

Lundi limerick #52

 

Aardvarks have very poor sight

and eat many termites each night

50,000 they say

then they sleep through the day

after washing them down with a Sprite.

 

(they don’t really drink Sprite, but the 50,000 is accurate!)

Well, I’ve gone from A to Z and back again with animal, birds, and insect limericks. What to do next week? Answers please on the back of a £50 note!

I talk to the trees………..

This popped up in my Facebook “memories” today. I thought it may be of interest, even though it is rather a long read.

Peter's pondering

Not only do I talk to the trees, I talk to all manner of things.

Each morning I go for a walk.

I have various routes, but all take in fields, woodland, the River Erewash, the Erewash canal, bridges, a main road, and suburban streets.

Some days I hardly see a living soul, others I see far too many!

My normal route takes me down my road, which has only some 9 houses. At the bottom of the road I have my first conversation, with a brazen hussy who rolls on the ground and will not let me pass before she is satisfied. Somewhere close by her brother will be watching. He is more timid and undemanding. Their Mummy lives at the end house and thinks they are both boys!

I explain that I have to get on, and continue on my way. She follows, then runs ahead. It is…

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Who Paints The Sky? — Gloria Smud

Over at Gloria Smud, Debbie’s Dad has been busy, as usual, helping to paint some really glorious skies. Pop over and hear all about it. You will not be disappointed.

Who Paints The Sky? Who has the job of painting the sky, Who owns the ladders to reach up so high, Who knows which colourful palletes delight, Perpetual artwork designed to excite! A fracture appears at the breaking of dawn, A slither of pink cracks; the new day is born. A blank canvas waits for…

via Who Paints The Sky? — Gloria Smud

Introducing — Gloria Smud

Debbie Jones lives in llangullno, in Wales, and has this lovely blog under the fantastically clever title of Gloria Smud. You’ll see why, and how, it got to be named thus if you have a wander round her blog. You will not be disappointed.

Debbie has been writing for quite some time, but blogging for only a short time. She will, I’m sure, become very successful with lots of avid readers. Here is your chance to read her fantastic poetry and see, and hear about her little bit of paradise.

A Magical Palace Lay me down on a blanket of white, Where tears are frozen and eyes shut tight. Feeling the tingle from cool, crisp sheets, Drifting down, silently, piece by piece. A magical palace, where earth blends with sky, And freezing stars glisten, remotely, on high. A calming, clear bitterness, fashioned from ice, Where…

via A Magical Palace — Gloria Smud