Friday 3 May 2019

Of clothes moths

This is (was) my son’s coat. I have posted before about clothes moths, and their greedy habit of taking a bite from each garment and never making, as it were, a clean plate by finishing anything off. Well, these are doing their best with this coat, (which has now been binned). The moths have also taken bites out of most of his wardrobe, and he is despairing as to what to do. He says he’s tried everything.

I feel great sympathy for him, but can’t help being fascinated, as our clothes moths conduct their business when we aren’t looking. I have never seen their larvae; only the holes they leave behind.

That’s all.

Saturday 27 April 2019

Room 101

We are fans of the BBC programme Room 101, in which participants jettison things or people they don’t like. These are my top two:

1. Lol. I can’t bear it. It’s the equivalent of an exclamation mark. If something is funny, please leave it to speak for itself.

2. Ironing. Hours spent flattening clothes. Does anyone, anywhere, like ironing?

That’s all. What would you put in your Room 101?

Friday 22 February 2019

My perfect dog

I’ve seen a labradoodle and a
Dachysdoodle too,
But what I really, really wants’s
A peke-a-pug-a-poo.

I’d like to get three little dogs and
This is what I’d do -
I’d mix and match them til I got
A peke-a-pug-a-poo.

People would stop in wonderment,
And then they’d  ask me: “who
On earth have you got there?”
I’d say: “my peek-a-pug-a-poo.”

You’ll never find one in the street
Or park or beach or zoo,
So mine would be unique, the only

So if I fail at writing, or
The other things I do,
At least I’d own the one and only

(Except that I bet someone’s already done it...)

Wednesday 30 January 2019

Ode to Writerr's Block

I've discovered a (another) wonderful way of wasting time: the Sonnet Generator. You feed in certain words, and bingo! A sonnet appears! This is mine, written entirely by the generator (with a few choice words supplied by me).


My writers block, you inspire me to write.
I hate the way you pounce, surprise and creep,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the block short sleep.

Let me compare you to a library?
You are more frustrate and more disable.
Snow chills the berries of January,
And wintertime has the lead pier table.

How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your frustrating and unhappy.
How your infuriating fills my days!
My hate for you is the pop white crappie.

Now I must away with an impede heart,
Remember my top words whilst we're apart

Ps. I'm actually writing quite happily today, but thought I deserved a break...

Tuesday 8 January 2019

Daffodils (Especially for Graham)

On Seeing the First Daffodils in Sainsbury's

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once, in Sainsbury's, lo!
Bunches of golden daffodils!
Behind the meat, beyond the peas,
(Not fluttering, there was no breeze.)

When often on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
I often dream of daffodils
(I very rarely dream of food).
The first bright sign spring's on the way -
I have to buy some now! Today!

Out go the sausages and bread
The cleaning products, oh, so dull.
I must buy daffodils instead
Until my shopping trolley's full.
I only came in for my lunch,
But daffodils! A pound a bunch!

And oh, my heart with pleasure fills
And dances, as I reach the tills.

(With apologies to Wordsworth, but I know he'd understand.)