Captain Haddock
- Location: Marlinspike Hall
- Registered: 8 Oct 2012
- Posts: 8,397
#61
Bloody Orkney: this traditional song has been attributed to a Captain Hamish Blair, RN, said to have been stationed at Scapa Flow during WWII
Bloody Orkney
This bloody town's a bloody cuss
No bloody trains, no bloody bus,
And no one cares for bloody us
In bloody Orkney.
The bloody roads are bloody bad,
The bloody folks are bloody mad,
They'd make the brightest bloody sad,
In bloody Orkney.
All bloody clouds, and bloody rains,
No bloody kerbs, no bloody drains,
The Council's got no bloody brains,
In bloody Orkney.
Everything's so bloody dear,
A bloody bob, for bloody beer,
And is it good? - no bloody fear,
In bloody Orkney.
The bloody 'flicks' are bloody old,
The bloody seats are bloody cold,
You can't get in for bloody gold
In bloody Orkney.
The bloody dances make you smile,
The bloody band is bloody vile,
It only cramps your bloody style,
In bloody Orkney.
No bloody sport, no bloody games,
No bloody fun, the bloody dames
Won't even give their bloody names
In bloody Orkney.
Best bloody place is bloody bed,
With bloody ice on bloody head,
You might as well be bloody dead,
In bloody Orkney
There's nothing greets your bloody eye
But bloody sea and bloody sky,
'Roll on demob!' we bloody cry
In bloody Orkney.
Bob Whysman, Brian Dixon and Pablo like this
"The world is still a weird place, despite my efforts to make clear and perfect sense of it".
Dr. Hunter S Thompson
Bob Whysman
- Registered: 23 Aug 2013
- Posts: 1,948
#62
Life is for enjoying.
When you are little, Birthdays are seen,
As counting the years 'till you become a teen,
Following teens, twenty one was the aim,
Every one thinking, there was so much to gain.
Conscripted for National Service by a letter HM sent,
With orders to train in the military, where we lived in a tent,
Sent overseas after some tough tasks in The Brecons,
With other young men, where a new challenge beckoned.
Some of us returned after serving our time away,
Changed from boys into men, so I’ve heard say,
Then resettled in civvy street to try to get back a life,
Having survived, coming of age, in the preceding strife.
Key to the door..........grown up at last!
Freedom to cast off the shackles now past,
Stay out late, just do as you please,
Crawl back home late, nearly on knees.
Marry in style, your future planned out,
Children and Spouse it all came about,
Together a home in the way you had dreamed,
A life full of love, or so it had once seemed.
Your children leave home, life returns in full,
No Children to collect or take to their school,
Whoa. Not so fast you're Grandparents, too!
Children need help again with workload anew.
Retirement looked forward to, time for a break!
Now babysit when needed, school runs to make,
“Need bigger house now dad," room is so tight,
“Need some help moving, come over, alright?
“House needs redecorating, got much to arrange,
Off on our holiday's, tired, need a change,
Tomorrow the doors arrive, we're leaving at seven,
Can you paint the doors white and fit all eleven?"
And so it goes on, Birthdays come and go,
Your energy wavers, you're becoming more slow,
Not that anyone notices, it happens in stages,
Each Birthday comes quicker, it used to be ages.
The life that you had still keeps changing at will,
But you carry on regardless, not yet over the hill,
When the next milestone arrives it could be a boon,
A free TV licence on offer but it arrives far too soon.
The Birthday arrived there was no licence to buy,
But soon the concession will be pie in the sky,
To enable the great BBC to balance their spending,
Although their repeats, to me, seem never ending!
Stopped planning for a future, not worth the thinking,
As whatever you plan, your old bones are just shrinking,
So when all toil is over and life's had your best,
Before your next Birthday, it could be time for a rest.
An ideal journey through life would be fulfilling and fine,
Before old age creeps up on you, which is far from sublime,
You sometimes appear invisible as some people can’t glean,
That the face in the mirror is still a person, not just an has-been.........
This is just a snapshot of life poem not one of sorrow,
Perhaps we should live for today, worry not for tomorrow,
Life’s ever changing as the years have flown by,
Birthdays don't matter anymore and now I know why.
Pablo likes this
Do nothing and nothing happens.
Bob Whysman- Registered: 23 Aug 2013
- Posts: 1,948
#63
The wonderful Pam Ayres...now 73 years old and penned her latest.
Ode to coronavirus.......
I'm normally a social girl
I love to meet my mates
But lately with the virus here
We can't go out the gates
You see, we are the 'oldies' now
We need to stay inside
If they haven't seen us for a while
They'll think we've upped and died
They'll never know the things we did
Before we got this old
There wasn't any Facebook
So not everything was told
We may seem sweet old ladies
Who would never be uncouth
But we grew up in the 60s -
If you only knew the truth!
There was sex and drugs and rock 'n roll
The pill and miniskirts
We smoked, we drank, we partied
And were quite outrageous flirts
Then we settled down, got married
And turned into someone's mum,
Somebody's wife, then nana,
Who on earth did we become?
We didn't mind the change of pace
Because our lives were full
But to bury us before we're dead
Is like a red rag to a bull!
So here you find me stuck inside
For four weeks, maybe more
I finally found myself again
Then I had to close the door!
It didn’t really bother me
I'd while away the hour
I'd bake for all the family
But I've got no flaming flour!
Now Netflix is just wonderful
I like a gutsy thriller
I'm swooning over Idris
Or some random sexy killer
At least I've got a stash of booze
For when I'm being idle
There's wine and whiskey, even gin
If I'm feeling suicidal!
So let's all drink to lockdown
To recovery and health
And hope this awful virus
Doesn't decimate our wealth
We'll all get through the crisis
And be back to join our mates
Just hoping I'm not far too wide
To fit through the flaming gates!
Jan Higgins and Reginald Barrington like this
Do nothing and nothing happens.
Weird Granny Slater
- Location: Dover
- Registered: 7 Jun 2017
- Posts: 3,095
#64
Didn't Pam Ayres used to be an incisive debunker of social delusions?
'Pass the cow dung, my dropsy's killing me' - Heraclitus
Bob Whysman- Registered: 23 Aug 2013
- Posts: 1,948
#65
Seasons of ageing.
Now peacefully sleeping as the afternoon progresses,
Oblivious to anyone’s company and all of life’s stresses,
A familiar face, but when awake not the same person,
Gradual changes taking place, as issues of ageing worsen,
Some days normality appears to return, a chance to relate,
But it can change in an instance, to an unpleasant state.
Whatever happened to those carefree times, where did they go?
One thing’s for sure they’ll never return, that’s something we know.
The seasons of life begins, akin to Spring, when sap and hope rises,
We embrace life’s Summer, without any notion of future surprises,
In the Autumn of life, like falling leaves, there’s no going back,
Then the vagaries of old age, life’s Winter, there’s no changing that………..
Brian Dixon, Alec Sheldon, Jan Higgins and
1 more like this
Brian Dixon, Alec Sheldon, Jan Higgins and Pablo like this
Do nothing and nothing happens.
Jan Higgins
- Location: Dover
- Registered: 5 Jul 2010
- Posts: 13,931
#66
Bob that is so poignant, all of us of a certain age will completely understand those words.
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I try to be neutral and polite but it is hard and getting even more difficult at times.
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Bob Whysman- Registered: 23 Aug 2013
- Posts: 1,948
#67
Reflections
The mirror, a reminder that life doesn’t stand still,
Happily, carrying on regardless, not yet over the hill,
I’m certain the face staring at me is someone I know,
There’s life in the old dog yet, I’m just losing my glow.
We like to look back on our youth, as we grow old,
Winkle pickers we once wore, with attitude so bold,
We tend to remember events with specs tinted rosy,
Our shoes fastened with Velcro now, feeling so cosy.
Some sported hair laden with Brylcreem for style,
Impossible today, as hair’s been gone for a while,
WAGS pat our bald heads, what’s that all about?
With a cap on my head, am I still in with a shout?!
I remember weekend dances in my youth with affection,
Walking girlfriends home late; to ensure their protection!
Also the good times spent in coffee bars and The Grand,
Nowadays shuffling home from wherever, needing a hand.
In a conversation one day a youngster patronisingly declared,
“You oldies don’t understand us, our lives can’t be compared,
You never had smartphones, computers, the internet and more.”
I replied, “that’s why we invented them, what have you in store?”
Be content with the vagaries of old age, no need to get stroppy,
Smile as your bits head south steadily, becoming more floppy!
More years have passed in our lives, than those that lay ahead,
Memories of past times to savour, although some best left unsaid!
Jan Higgins and Reginald Barrington like this
Do nothing and nothing happens.
Bob Whysman- Registered: 23 Aug 2013
- Posts: 1,948
#68
Those were the days.
I remember the times when we were young and could roam,
Our adventures were exciting sometimes in a sea full of foam,
Refreshed with jam sandwiches with sherbet drinks as a treat,
We’d climb the North Downs and whiz down on trays as a seat
We were carefree and safer from those we met in those days,
Life back then was simpler, less to worry about, in many ways,
No smart phones or social media to waste our time to explore,
We learnt skills like making wood whistles from Sycamore.
We also made pea shooters using hollowed Elderberry wood,
The ammo was various, cherry stones or rice when we could,
We made bouncy balls from old cycle inner tubes cut in strips,
Whipped up a frenzy with spinning tops and homemade whips,
Under Shakespeare Cliff, near Dover in a pool left by the sea,
We would make rafts out of oil drums and flotsam with glee,
Happy hours were spent there with one eye on the tide as it rose,
One day we forgot the time and ended up, soaked in our clothes!
Once we went with a friend to the East Cliff sands for a swim,
We always left our clothes in a heap on the sand, but not him,
He made a hole in the sand to bury his clothes from one’s view,
With a faux flag sticking up in the sand so its location he knew.
We spent many happy hours in the sea before we came out,
We quickly got dressed when we heard our friend’s shout,
“I can’t find my clothes, the tides come in over them, I’m sunk”,
Despite a frantic search not found, so off home in his trunks!
Those were the days, uncomplicated and freedoms galore,
Unfortunately, in today’s complicated world, not anymore,
Perhaps looking back doesn’t appeal to everyone’s taste,
But it has suited so many oldies, just to opt out of the race.
Reginald Barrington and Jan Higgins like this
Do nothing and nothing happens.