Fairy Hanny

Friends, stupidity, the beach, boobs and bums

Today I got stuck on a couple of paragraphs, attempting to explain the delights of floating down the River Thyme on a barge. I had the two Elf´s, Mad Tom of Bedlam, Mad Magdalene and Fairy Hanny on the barge of Mr. O´Nighon. I just couldn´t make the text flow like I saw the river flow.

So I contacted my good friend Anna in Kazakhstan. We chatted about the differences between men and women, as backed by a series of Scientific studies. Anna is an incredible artist.

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It appears women can discern colours better, are more religious, more likely to give to charity and talk more than men.

What might we say to Sherlock at this point?

It worked.

I soon had my team heading on through their latest adventure on Uranus, the new quest being to find the Witch who is playing with the Space-Time continuum and causing havoc for Banshees in Liverpool and a coach load of Essex girls intent on a good night out.

The jokes started coming thick and fast with three-legged frogs and chickens, a rock that looks like a Jailhouse (that´s what happens when Elf´s speak Elvis) and a posh scouser in Hlither Poler.

Of course I needed euphemisms for boobs and bums – it´s the way I write, right?

Boobs

http://www.dribbleglass.com/Jokes/breasts.htm

Wahwahs was a new one on me!

So after 6 hours of chatting and writing I decided to head to the beach and read for a bit.

So I hit the beach at 4pm on a hot day, take off my flip-flops and start crossing the sand toward the water. It´s further than it looks and my feet began to burn…

Ok so yeas a long time ago I did gain a B.Sc. in Physics so I should know about conduction, convection and radiation of heat.

But feck me I burnt the souls of my feet.

Going back to the earlier conversation with Anna about differences between men and women… no way would I stop and put my flip-flops back on.

More Science to show men are stupid.

Cars, Plums and Grapes

It´s amazing what a trip to the shops can do.

I live 10 minutes walk from a Supermarket in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. Sometimes I drive there though that usually takes longer than 10 minutes because of the one way system and traffic lights. SO today I walked there as I only needed a few items.

On the way I was reminded how easily life can change in an instant. Ok so the roads are busy but most of the crossings are controlled by lights and it is easy to see traffic approaching.

One of the side roads, a rat run between the two one way streets, is on my route. It has a well marked crossing and a feck off big sign saying STOP!

As I walked across the crossing I saw a grey car coming toward me. No problem, I thought, he is a long way back and I´m quite visible – bright afternoon and I´m wearing a yellow top.

But he didn´t see me.. not until the last minute.

I had visions of another long hospital stay with a broken leg or two, just like the time the idiot in a taxi knocked me off my motorcycle.

He stopped.

About 25cm from me.

I think I farted.

But that was all.

People watching seemed to be more shocked than I was. But then I am a driver too and I know how easy it is to just momentarily lose concentration. I bet the driver is having nightmares about what almost happened. Of course the Police would throw the book at him, and rightly so, knocking someone down on a zebra crossing.

I walked on to the supermarket, merely giving the driver a minor admonishing wave.

Then I just can´t help laughing when I get into a store and see big juicy Purple Plums for sale. And nice grapes from Chile.

It´s the knob and plop humour, Grapes and Plums.

Enough to make you almost forget that a ton of hot grey metal almost took you out five minutes ago.

How quickly life can change.

Unpacking the moving van.

In the portal horizontal split, here on the inside, outside seems so far away.

Am I grey or am I blue?

Someone turned the lights on

Red, Green and Yellow-

Poor rockers waiting for the summertime blues.

Quartet of happiness, my complete family

Purchased with love and three packets of gum.

One came down from the stage, leaving my three to survive.

Mad woman wailing with her Tambourine!

Man!

The trio played on as my ship sank in its preordained bottle.

Then the bass player, slicked back and Sun glassed,

Packed up and left,

Taking just three steps to heaven.

The remaining duo, content by Canteras beach,

(Though not content with the content;)

He became self-indulgent

Knocking himself out with platitudes and attitudes.

Did you see her attack my Fedora?

It dogged him.

So the guitarist left, citing musical differences

And the need for organic crisps and a visit to Rome.

So I stood alone on the stage – Keyboard master,

Just me and my organ of change, wallowing in self-pity.

For a while happiness flowed without responsibility,

Stark urban contrast.

So cute, she said, just like me.

Feeling alone in the feckity feck of a world.

Gaia they don’t want me.

Not needed:

Unnecessary:

Unwanted:

What´s freedom babe?

I decided to end the concert

Wondered if anyone would notice-

They were all talking over my music anyway;

So I stopped playing.

They waxed lyrical for two days,

Then they said

¨where has the flower gone? ¨

The bottle was empty; the cupboard was bare.

Now I sit in my chair

And always I stare

At the box the lies by the fire;

A man with no hair

Is talking in there

And now I can see she´s a liar.

The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.

So there I was in Almaty!

In love?

Friends though she was quite a tease. We were each dating separately but occasionally went out together. Definitely in the friend zone with this beautiful young lady.

Cést la vie!

Oh yes we went to a French restaurant as she sometimes worked there; sometimes we ate there. I fixed things for her when she parted company with her husband.

Then we fell out. but became friends again.

Then fell out.

Then she said she would marry me in eight years. I was bemused…

Then my Mum died and I was all over the place. I asked her for a date. She blocked me on every social media and then avoided me.

I can deal with that. Now two years on I had a look on her Instagram page. Lo and behold she had a photograph of my book so I said I liked the picture.

Now she has blocked me on Instagram!

I will never understand women.

Yes she was a lot of fun and very attractive, and when drunk she always contacted me.

An interesting interlude in the pleasures of life.

“The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time” James Taylor

Disappearing

Kazakhstan was a blast. Beautiful women, great friends, good bars, dancing all night.. then having to deal with idiots all day.

Why do we promote the incompetent?

Actually that´s not fair. I´ve worked with some great leaders and managers throughout my life. In schools, in industry, in the army.

It seems to me that when we get a weak leader they surround themselves with incompetents so their own stupidity is hidden.

Irrelevant.

I fell in love just once in Kazakhstan; and the name rhymes…

Hoagy Carmichael has it right.

Sometimes I wonder, how I spend
The lonely nights
Dreaming of a song
The melody
Haunts my reverie
And I am once again with you
When our love was new
And each kiss an inspiration
But that was long ago
And now my consolation is in the stardust of a song

Besides the garden wall, when stars are bright
You are in my arms
The nightingale
Tells his fairytale
Of paradise, where roses grew
Though I dream in vain
In my heart it will remain
My stardust melody
The memory of love’s refrain.

Sunrise to Sunset – for Tasha

This year for the summer solstice I rose early to watch the sunrise over the Mediterranean from the beach at Peniscola. In the evening I sat on my balcony and watched it set.

It took me back two years to 10th August 2014. I watched the sun rise as I flew from Astana to Almaty, then watched the sunset with a beautiful woman from a hill-top restaurant. I thought that was a heavenly day.

Sadly I let that sun set too quickly.

I wasn’t ready for a deep relationship.

Two years on I am working on a new sunrise.

Things have changed so much as I sailed through the perfect storm of stress;

Divorce
Forced House sale
Awful job
My Mothers death
New job, new country
Serious health scare

Yet I came through the storm, tattered and torn, but still moving.

Things can only get better!

Here we are being Crass in May.

Where are you?

I went to Singapore; sorry I forgot to mention it!

And who will teach your classes?

That silly girl who has ignored you all!

She will be promoted soon as she is vacuous;

Just like the Boss and his cronies!

Who will check on her?

Who needs to?

The Boss came down from the mountains

Dressed in Damask and a thong of Gold.

His counterparts,

Suited and Booted,

Embarrassed shuffling for the school photograph.

“Sit down boy!”

But where do I sit and with whom?

“Just wear the Dunces hat and write one thousand lines”

‘I must not be a fool’.

The text went through to the Boss’ Lackey

Though he can’t read and never responds;

“I was dead for three days before you even noticed!”

“But you wrote your own eulogy; we know it was you!”

Catherine lost her job today,

Because the Boss went out to play,

Wandering aloud about the town,

So he didn’t have to watch his son go down.

You kicked me out without any fun!

Pay me! Pay me! Pay!

Third time lucky for the invertebrates.

The Chuckle Brothers came out to play at four,

But whinged when you went out of the door;

“She’s leaving early! Boo hoo!”

Then the paedophile screws up his courage,

To moan about women’s clothes.

“They should dress like neat little schoolgirls!”

He cries to his radical lover.

When winter comes, cascading elderly white amongst the youth,

Outcome the skiers,

Stupid hats, fat heads, dead, keen.

I am the Grand Old Duke of York!

Tosses his Pole to a Kazak;

Then any other girl he meets.

Bitter

Mines a pint cried the fat man.

No need to cry, it’s on its way!

Ready in five came the steadfast reply.

Bitter today?

Idiots causing life to change;

Change!

Look at your hairdo, your suit, your beard!

Stupid old man!

Move on to move on,

Lucrative styling, ludicrous style.

Grab the cliché and fins an island in the sun.

Is it possible?

Will she come with me?

Or do I leave her with the sausage makers,

Their height of creativity a Cumberland?

Cumbersome travels.

Move on to move on!

She said it again; I listened.

It glistened;

The island in the sun.

Soft surf Peniscola beach.

Kicking through the gentle surf,

I see Sea; Life and death.

Water of life bitter to taste, killing the tree,

Death is the Sea Shells Sanctuary.

Broken Rocks,

Broken hearts.

Even your name evokes in me;

Peniscola!

Penis, giver of life whether desired or not,

Six percent?

Cola refreshing the parts we dare not mention;

Sagging breasts reminder of the time of your life.

Pert! Young! Sentenced to gravitational rectitude!

Alas…

A lass walks toward me, pointing football studs;

“I dare you to look me in the eye”

I looked.

I did not turn to stone.

The Sea erodes my insouciance,

Dead skin to feed the fishes.

“Who will swim with us this night?”

Darting silver arrows search waves of discontent,

The soporific surf sloughing away my life?

I kissed the wave goodbye.

My thanks go out to the lazy invertebrates

Thank God the sun refused to shine,

Or I might have thought I was loving you!

Walking into that same old trap,

heading for the same old crap,

Early mornings, afternoon nap,

A woman who could really sap.

Then out she came with the magic word,

Something I’m glad I just heard,

Something that made my fears end,

“Honey I just want to be your friend.”