Wednesday 30 December 2020

LONG AGO IN THE OLD WILD WEST

 

Long ago in the

        Old Wild West

With empty pockets

         In his vest

Into the frontier

        Town of Conroy

Rode a ragged

        Looking cowboy

He tied up by

       The towns hotel

And found a man

       A tale to tell

He said that he

       Had bad luck

And all he needed

       Was a buck

The man took him

       To the saloon

Saying if you drink       

          From the spittoon

Ill give you fifty

       Take time to think

Fifty dollars

       If you take a drink

The cowboy nodded

        And then said yes

He was willing

       Well more or less

He held the spittoon

       Up to his lip

He took a breath

       And then a sip

He drank his fill

       Till all was gone

The man paid up

       And said well done

You really earned

       This money well

 But I must say this

       If truth to tell

I would have paid you

       Just to try

You did not need

       To drink it dry

Why didn’t you stop?

       Are you a chump?

I couldn’t stop

       It was in one lump

Tuesday 29 December 2020

PIANO FOR SALE

 

I have a tale of woe to tell

Of my piano which I must sell

Oh, what a tragic sort of tale

Which tells of my piano for sale

For it has to go so I was told

Though I don’t really want it sold

 

So, a new owner I must find 

Someone appreciative and kind

Or to the garage go it must

To become a gatherer of dust

But I can’t keep it out of sight     

So, I’ll bid farewell to my upright

 

Why must I part with my dear friend?

But part we must though in the end

Creating extra space is sort

But what makes space of such import?

What makes this move so necessary?

Is the room changed to a nursery

 

The time has come to do the deed

To write the add for them to read

So how to frame the perfect add

To attract the good but not the bad

Piano for sale, is how I began

Piano for sale, only used for Chopin


Sunday 27 December 2020

BLOODY TECHNOLOGY

            Computers are here to ease your life

Preventing tiresome trouble and strife

Well, that’s the story salesmen tell

About PC’s and laptops as well

 

Computers which we depend upon

That work with chips of silicon

With glowing screens and flashing lights

With touchscreens and terabytes

 

Machines to complete any task

Varied functions whatever you ask

They’ll calculate and interface

Then trash your files without a trace

 

You put your faith in state of the art

Then when you’re not looking it falls apart

So, to hell with programs and all that fuss

          Give me a pen and a pad and an abacus

Tuesday 22 December 2020

TOM BAWCOCK'S EVE

 Legendary Mousehole resident Tom Bawcock

Went out to fish beneath a storm filled sky

To lift a famine from the village, and to honour him

They hold an annual festival and eat Stargazy pie


Sunday 20 December 2020

GAMBLING WAS NOT CONDONED

Gambling was not condoned

And using the Force wasn’t done

However, the Jedi Knights

Had a bet regardless and Obi Wan

Thursday 17 December 2020

CHEWIDDEN THURSDAY

 

On White Thursday

It’s St Chewidden’s Day

He’s revered by “Tinners”

Since their heyday

For sharing the secrets

Of Smelting they say

 

(On the last clear Thursday before (i.e. at least one week before) Christmas)

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (016) Christmas Wrap

 

When I was a kid and it came time for the “oldies” to open their presents I was always amazed by the fuss they would make about the wrapping paper.

They would first admire it then they would caress it tenderly and then they would gingerly begin to unwrap the gift, and once unwrapped they would inexplicably set aside the present while they carefully folded the wrapping paper so it could be used again the following year, and then and only then would they turn their full attention on the gift, and then this ritual would be repeated with each subsequent present and would be performed by all of the oldies.

As a child I was confused and quite frankly didn’t understand why they didn’t tear the paper to shreds like the rest of us.

Looking back, I can only assume that this was as a result of having been through the hard times, the depression of the thirties, the shortages of the war years and the austerity of the fifties.

My mum would go through the whole ritual and would carefully tuck her pile of wrapping paper, bows and ribbons, away in the sideboard draw “Ready for next year”.

Come the next year and the fabulous treasures which had been so thoughtfully secreted away were nowhere to be seen, only new rolls of wrapping paper, packs of bows and reels of ribbons.

So, I think to myself sanity has been restored this year it will be about the presents not what they were wrapped in.

But no, on Christmas day it’s the same ritual all over again.

 

Wednesday 16 December 2020

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (015) A Question of Pooh

Its Christmas time again, as if anyone could fail to notice, even without leaving my house I can see more than half a dozen houses decorated to the hilt.

Every coloured light imaginable, Santa’s on the roof or climbing a ladder, sleighs, elves, snowmen, bells, stars, baubles and last but by no means least standing almost four feet high, that perennial Christmas favourite, Winnie the Pooh.

Wait a minute though you might well be saying what does Pooh have to do with Christmas? Well every other house seems to have one so there must be something in it.

I don’t recall mention of him in the bible and in the many nativity plays I have seen over the years he was conspicuous by his absence and although there is a donkey, but it’s not Eeyore.

The stable did not house Piglet and the wise men did not travel from the east with Tigger baring gifts of Huney.

Nor in any of the Christmas traditions around the world is there a single reference to Pooh as one of Santa’s helpers.

There’s Black Peter, The Jolly Elf, even the devil figure Krampus but no Pooh, but people still give him pride of place on their lawns at Christmas.

I just don’t get it.

Tuesday 15 December 2020

Uncanny Tales – (08) Carers

 The Jansen family have lived in the relatively small English county of Downshire for countless generations but only thirty years in the southern town of Abbottsford, which was the biggest in Downshire. Which is the administrative capital, the seat of the Downshire government, and now has City status

It was also a place of learning thanks to the Downshire University, a Cathedral City and was home to Downshire’s Premier football club, Abbottsford Town.

But on a cold April morning it was the site of another of Abbottsford’s landmarks that the Jansen’s were concerned with and it was early when they arrived at the Churchill Hospital and Paul Jansen and his mum, Wendy, drove slowly into the hospital car park.

As it was 7.15am, there were plenty of spaces to choose from, but because the Day Surgery Unit was set apart from the main hospital building, he chose a space nearest to the unit. 

The clear blue skies of the previous day had been replaced by clouds the colour of slate and the bright warm spring sunshine they had so enjoyed the day before had given way to a sharp northerly wind carrying on it the last remnants of winter with showers of sleet, hail and snow expected.

The hospital was named after Winston Spencer Churchill, still regarded by many as a true British hero, who had led the British people through their darkest hour, and it was named at a time when his achievements were still fresh in the minds of a grateful nation.

Paul liked it and no matter what the Liberal Left Political Correctness brigade chose to call it in the future it would always be the Churchill to him, because to Paul and his family, Winnie would always be a hero.

Paul got out of the car and walked briskly to the nearest ticket machine where he keyed in the car registration before fumbling in his jacket pocket and fishing out his wallet, he put the card in the machine, pressed the green button, then removed his card and waited for his ticket.

He then put his card and ticket back in his wallet and put his wallet away as he returned to the car at the same brisk pace.

Opening the passenger door, he stood holding the door against the wind and waited while his mum gathered together her assortment of bags and reached out a hand to helped her out of the car.

“Come on dear” Paul said smiling, she hated being called dear.

“I’ll give you a slap” she responded

 

He locked the car, and his mum took his arm as they walked towards the path the led down to the Day Surgery Unit.

They made slow progress as Wendy was in too much discomfort for walking in her normal brisk manner.

They went down the short path, crossed the road and walked up another short path towards the entrance and its relative warmth.

Once inside they went straight to reception, where cheerful “Good Mornings” were exchanged and Wendy presented her paperwork to a pleasant smiling nurse by the name of Madalina, who led them the short distance from reception to ward “B”.

Ward B had five beds and a patient’s toilet, the latter was on the left as they entered the ward, then bay one and two, then at the end was a window covering the full width, and beds 3,4 and 5 ran between the window and the entrance.     

Paul wasn’t sure how many day wards there were, he knew that ward A and B were for women as they passed ward A on the way and as he saw a male patient walking around in a dressing gown he assumed there would be a similar number of male wards, but he didn’t know, and he further assumed that each ward would be carbon copies of each other, with each of the 5 bay’s containing a bed and tray table, with a bedside cabinet to left, as he looked at it, and a large wing backed chair to the right and each cubicle surrounded by a blue pleated curtain decorated with a forbidding red hand on every fifth panel, interspersed with the words “Please do not enter” to ensure privacy.

 

Madelina led them to bay one and said,

“Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back in a few minutes and complete the admission”

“Thank you dear” his Mum responded with a smile and Paul smiled to himself at his mum calling someone else dear when the word drove her mad if said to her.

 

It was actually 20 mins before she returned so while his mum got settled, Paul took in their surroundings, which had already changed even in the few minutes that had elapsed since their arrival, he studied the ward in detail and listened to all the conversations going on, and the thing that instantly struck him was the assortment of ailments.

His mum was in bed 1, she was a urology patient as she had a kidney stone, in Bed 2 was an Elderly woman called Edith, who was already in her gown when they arrived and she was in for ENT surgery, although Paul hadn’t gleaned anything further information on that.

The was a young blond Irish woman in Bed 3 and her partner who had also arrived before them, but he wasn’t sure what she was in for, but he had overheard that the operation wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon as the morning would be taken up with ultrasound and radiology.

Across the way from them, Bed 4 was occupied by a very loud Middle age woman in for an Orthopedics op to remove some pins from her foot, following an earlier operation, in addition to being loud she also spoke a lot, and Paul found himself uncharitably wishing it had been her jaw they were operating on.

The last to arrive, in Bed 5, was an attractive young woman with long brown hair, around his own age he guessed, accompanied by another equally attractive young woman with bobbed red hair, a year or two younger, who was very attentive, to the brunette

“girlfriend probably” he thought “mores the pity”

He was rather partial to red hair and she was very pretty, there was a moment of eye contact between them and she gave him the briefest of smiles, and then a figure clad in scrubs appeared and pulled the curtain.

But he could still hear what was going on and it seemed that the pretty brunette patient was in for Breast surgery and she was clearly worried about it, hence the attentiveness of the red head.

 

Madelina appeared again, if a little later than promised, pushing a little trolley before her, then she pulled the curtain around the bed and introduced herself again before perching on the bed with the admission’s documents on her lap.

After confirming name, date of birth and contact details of Paul and answering a long list of questions,

When did you last eat and drink?

Do you have any allergies?

Have you had surgery before?

What medications do you take? and

Do you have any metalwork in your body?

After which, with all the questions asked and acceptable answers given, Madelina measured Wendy for her surgical stockings, took a pair off the trolley and left with a cheery smile.

 

Wendy got into her unflattering gown and mandatory stockings while Paul slipped out to reception where the visitors’ toilets were, he took his time to make sure his mum had time to get changed in peace and he timed it to perfection, as when he returned, she was just pulling the curtain back.

“Oh, very fetching” he said when he got his first sight of her in gown and stockings

“I don’t want any lip out of you” she retorted and punched his arm before getting on the bed and making herself comfy, after which it was the turn of the Junior doctor, Cee Hazell, to ask more questions, most of which had been asked before, then some arrows were drawn on Wendy’s abdomen and then she was gone.

After the Doctor departed there was a brief respite, so Paul sat down and his eyes went directly across to bed 5 where the pretty red head was sitting holding the brunettes hand, and softly speaking words of comfort to her, he thought she looked tiny sat in the large wing backed chair that stood beside the bed, and he found himself hoping she wasn’t the patients significant other, a friend would be good, or family, and the reason he hoped that was because he was really attracted to her, not that it really mattered if she was young free and single, he would never do anything about it, even if the timing and circumstances were more ideal, which was probably why he was still a bachelor at 32.

Suddenly his view of her was obscured by a figure in scrubs and the then the curtain was pulled across and the figure in scrubs introduced herself as Freya Krabbenborg, the anesthetist, who asked more questions, some of the same and some new, and then talked about how she would put Wendy under, her last question before she left was “Do you vomit after anesthesia?” which Wendy answered in the affirmative.

A few minutes after she left with all the consent forms completed Madelina returned with a small cup of water and the anti-sickness medication recommended by the anesthetist.

Finally, the surgeon Mr. Karakoc put his head around the curtain, a pleasant round-faced man who sat on the bed and gently talked Wendy through the procedure, with an easy reassuring manner.

 

When all the comings and goings were over and the curtain had been pulled back again Paul was able to take stock of what was happening on the rest of the ward, he had heard the departure of Edith, the Elderly woman in Bed 2, in between Doctor Hazell’s departure and Freya Krabbenborg’s arrival, and the very loud middle-aged woman from bed 4 made her characteristically loud departure, while the gentle surgeon, Mr. Karakoc, was uttering his soothing words.

So that left the blonde in Bed 3, who was actually sat in a wheel chair and was about to be propelled off the ward by a porter, to radiology he presumed, and when he turned his attention to the cubicle where the pretty diminutive red head had been attending to the young brunette in bed 5, he saw her bend over the bed and kiss the patient on the forehead moments before the bed was maneuvered out of the cubicle and out of sight and the flame haired young woman was left alone and was clearly about to cry, and Paul felt the urge to rush over to her and wrap his comforting arms around her diminutive form, but she composed herself, took a deep breath lifted her chin resolutely and left the ward, and she took his admiration with her, a few minutes later he watched a huge 6’ 4” charge nurse called Owen, wheel his mother’s bed out of the ward, and he found himself left alone in the silence.

He took a few minutes in the peace and quiet to text family and friends with an update and then after tidying his mother’s clothes and personal bits and pieces into the bedside cabinet, Paul slipped her phone and purse into his coat pockets and left the ward in search of coffee and cake.


Paul Larsen went to the main entrance of the hospital proper because he knew there was a large cafeteria where he thought he could easily satisfy his need for caffeine and sugar but once he got there and saw that it was occupied largely by hospital staff in a myriad array of clinical wear he decided instead to go elsewhere and avoid all the medics, so after paying a quick visit to the loo he gathered his thoughts and buttoned his coat and stepped back out into the cold.

He knew there was a Stephenson’s Supermarket only a short walk away and that there was a Labuschagne’s Coffee House on the same site, and he thought that it might be less likely to be full off clinicians, and he was proven right, and he also found that he was not the only person trying to escape the hospital vibe, as sat in one corner was the pretty redhead from cubicle 5.

There were empty tables in close proximity to where she was sitting, and it would have been a good opportunity to engage her in conversation if he sat near her, given that they both had loved ones undergoing surgery, but he wasn’t confident enough, so he ordered a large Cappuccino and picked a table nearer the counter.

The cute redhead had obviously been in the coffee shop long enough to have finished her coffee so not long after Paul had sat down, she got up and made her way towards the counter and she seemingly took the longer route which took her passed where Paul was sitting, and she gave a smile and a nod of recognition when she passed him on route to the counter.

 

He continued to watch her as she stood at the counter and after ordering a large Macchiato, she began her return trip and Paul hoped he might get another smile, but as she passed an adjacent table a rather large, Beryl Cook-esque lady, in an effort to extricate herself from a chair several sizes smaller than her formidable derriere, jettisoned said chair directly into the girl’s path, causing her to stumble violently into his table.

The force of the impact knocked his coffee all over the table and launched the contents of her mug all over the next table, which was mercifully empty.

“Oh God I’m so sorry” she blurted; red faced with embarrassment “I’m so clumsy”

“Don’t worry” he responded trying to mop up the worst of the spillage with napkins “it was an accident”

Meanwhile Beryl Cooks model had left the scene of the crime totally oblivious to the carnage left in her wake.

“Let me get you another” she implored

“That’s fine really” he protested “There’s no need”

She was about to speak again when they were interrupted by the manager and a waitress

“I’m so sorry for causing all this mess” the girl said

“Nonsense, I saw what happened, it wasn’t your fault” said the manager, Kelly, according to her name badge

“Go and find a clean table and Linda will bring you fresh drinks, on the house”

“A Macchiato and a Cappuccino wasn’t it?” Linda asked perkily, already knowing the answer

“Yes, thank you” Paul and the girl chorused, “that’s very kind” she added

 

They walked over to the corner table where she had been sitting, and as the ice had been broken, he made the uncharacteristically bold move of pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down and hoped she wouldn’t mind.

“I’m Jodie by the way” she said with a smile that said she didn’t mind at all “Jodie Hilton”

“Paul Larsen” he responded “Pleased to meet you”

Just then Linda arrived with the replacement coffees

“Enjoy” she said and then went to join Kelly with the clean up

“That wasn’t the kind of impression I was trying to make” Jodie said wistfully

“You were trying to make a good impression?” Paul asked and she blushed as crimson as her hair, so to spare her further embarrassment he thought he would change the subject

“So, who were you with on the ward?”

“My sister Jacqui” she replied, “And you?”

“My mum” he replied “Kidney stones”

“Jacqui has a breast tumor” Jodie said in a faltering voice and Paul thought she was on the verge of tears, so he reached across the table and put his hand on hers and a smile appeared. 

     

They spent more than an hour sat at the corner table in the coffee shop talking and laughing together, but the time came for them to leave, and neither could quite believe where the time had gone, and when they stepped outside the shop it was snowing.

“Oh wow” she exclaimed excitedly “I love snow”

“Me too” he said but as he took a step his foot promptly slid on the wet snow.

“Careful” she shouted with alarm and grabbed his arm.

“I think it might be best if we stick together”

The snow had fallen surprisingly quickly, and where it contacted the wet pavement in made a slushy slippery mess but as they got further away from the building the snow underfoot became increasingly more stable and the risk of falling was negligible, but once Jodie had taken hold of his arm Paul was disinclined to give her a reason to let go, not that she showed any sign that she wanted to for a minute, so they took a slow walk back up to the Day Surgery Unit, picking up the conversation from where they left off in Labuschagne’s.

 

It had stopped snowing by the time they reached the entrance, though the snow had settled well so they stamped their feet on the door mat exaggeratedly to their mutual amusement, they were still laughing as the approached ward, but her mood changed in an instant when she saw two nurses maneuvering her sister’s bed back towards the ward.

“I have to go” she said and was gone before he had chance to respond, but he understood.  

He watched as the bed was wheeled into the cubicle with Jodie holding her sisters’ hand until the curtain was drawn round, when he went and sat in the big armchair in cubicle 1 which was still empty and read his book.

 

He would normally be totally engrossed in a book, but he found his mind kept wandering to the lovely redhead and the time they had spent together.

After about 15 minutes of rereading the same page of his book, he was brought back to the moment by the sound of his mother’s voice, who was putting in her order for a cup of tea and a ham sandwich.

“Damn” he said under his breath, though not in response to his mother’s return, it had just occurred to him that when he left the ward several house earlier, he had gone in search of coffee and cake, but he had been so engrossed by the girl in his company that he forgot to eat.

He didn’t have long to rue his error though as in the next moment Owen, the huge 6’ 4” charge nurse effortlessly maneuvered the bed into the cubicle as if it were as small as a child’s toy.       

“Hi mum” he said as he stood up and after kissing her forehead added

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine dear” she replied brightly “It’s the first time I’ve been pain free for months”

“That’s great news” he exclaimed but knew that she would be in greater discomfort later when the anesthesia and major pain relief wore off, but he would be with her to look after her when that happened.

 

When Wendy’s cup of Tea and Ham sandwich arrived Paul’s, mind wandered again to Jodie who was still concealed behind the blue curtain.

The time dragged painfully slowly for the next hour two hours despite the comings and goings of doctors and nurses between the cubicles but eventually the urology surgeon, Mr. Karakoc, and Madalina the nurse, arrived and that was a sign that departure was imminent.

Paul stepped out of the cubicle to give his mum some privacy and found that cubicle 5 was still curtained off, so he walked to reception to the visitor’s toilets to kill some time.

The first thing he saw when he returned to the ward was the smiling face of Jodie Hilton who was standing at the foot of her sisters’ bed. 

Her sister Jacqui was fully dressed and sitting on the bed and it was clear that their departure was imminent also.

He had hoped to get a chance to speak to her again before they left but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

But just then the very loud Middle age woman in bed 4, who he now knew to be called Greta, emerged clumsily from behind her curtain.

She had undergone an Orthopedics operation to remove some pins from her foot, following an earlier operation, and with a crutch in one hand and an IV stand in the other she hobbled ungracefully, as she set off on mercifully short distance between bed 4 and the toilet, nonetheless Paul and Jodie both felt the need to render some assistance.

“Do you need any help?” Jodie asked

“I think I’m ok” Greta replied uncertainly

“But you could catch me if I fall” she said to Paul

She made it safely to the toilet and Paul and Jodie were alone, and just as he was about to speak.

“We’re ready to go” Jacqui called

“Oh ok, just coming” Jodie responded and to Paul she said

“I’ll see you on Saturday then”

“You will” he replied “I’m looking forward to it”

“Me too” she replied “Bye”

Just as they left the ward Jodie turned and gave him one last smile and the toilet door opened and Greta stepped out.

“Ok Greta lets get you back to bed”

“Cheeky boy” she said and chuckled

 

Paul and Jodie were both there that day because the cared very much about their loved ones, but they ended the day caring for each other and would end up each other’s loved one.

 


Uncanny Christmas Tales – (014) Things That Go Bump, Electrickery and Other Disasters

 It was in the early hours of Christmas morning when I was awoken by a loud crash from the direction of the chimney breast, I looked around and my wife who is a very light sleeper hadn’t stirred.

Now given the time of the year and the time of night someone younger or more impressionable might have thought it was Father Christmas about his work in the chimney, however being a grizzled old cynic, I thought it more likely to be either a burglar or perhaps the wind blowing over my chimney or even subsidence, but not Santa.

I lay awake for about ten minutes trying to work out what the noise was and hearing no further noises I decided it must have been a dream and went back to sleep.

 

A few hours later I was awoken suddenly again, this time by three excitement crazed children dragging their sacks of presents behind them, one thing was for sure, there would be no return to sleep after this disturbance.

When the children had opened all their stocking presents, they rushed off downstairs for breakfast leaving a scene of utter devastation behind them.

 

After breakfast I went back upstairs and showered and then went into the bedroom to dress for the day.

On opening the wardrobe door, I discovered the source of the crash that had woken me up several hours earlier, the rail in the wardrobe had collapsed and all the clothes were in a heap at the bottom, lying on top of the shoes.

“So, it wasn’t a dream then” I said to myself.

Five minutes later and wearing a slightly creased shirt I made my way back downstairs to what sounded like bedlam.

 

The rest of the morning went according to plan; the children opened their main presents from under the tree and disappeared off to play with their favourites.

 

By twelve o’clock the dining table was laid complete with my late mother’s best tablecloth, Christmas napkins, party favours, best china, glassware, and the brand-new table centre, while emanating from the kitchen was the sound of steam rattling the saucepan lids together with the mouth-watering aroma of roasting Turkey.      

In the lounge my wife was holding court with myself and her parents looking on as she was opening the few presents that still remained.

I left the group to go and boil the kettle for a drink and as I entered the kitchen, I looked at the electric cooker and there was one ring lit with nothing on it, so I checked the other rings to make sure that the saucepan with the potatoes had heat under it, which it did.

So, I went to switch off the vacant ring only to discover it was already switched off.

Now there had been a little water spilled on the hob from where one of the pans had begun to boil over so I mopped up the spillage and using reverse psychology I turned the rogue ring on believing this would in fact turn it off, but it didn’t, it just tripped the breaker in the meter cupboard instead.

I went to the cupboard and reset the breaker and it tripped immediately, so then we decided to wait for ten minutes before we repeated the exercise, which ended with the same result.

It was decided that we could not use the cooker as it was just too dangerous, with my wife almost in tears I said, “it’s not the end of the world darling, and nobody died”.

So, with true Dunkirk spirit we made the best of a bad situation, as luck would have it the Turkey was cooked, as was the stuffing, pigs in blankets, and the Potatoes where boiled.

The remaining vegetables we were able to cook in the microwave and all we had to forgo were the roast potatoes and parsnips.

Now it wasn’t the most successful Christmas lunch we ever had but it could have been a lot worse.

“Bad things always come in three’s” I think we all thought it but equally we all refrained from saying it out loud.

 

The next day, Sunday, passed off without incident, for us anyway, my wife had to hit the stores in the Boxing Day sales to choose a new cooker.

 

It was late in the evening when, sitting down in front of the TV we saw the news for the first time that day and we heard the dreadful news about the Tsunami for the first time and even then, it didn’t even hint at just how big a tragedy it really was.         

Two hundred and fifty thousand dead in a heartbeat from Indonesia to Sri Lanka and beyond, and still counting.

 

We had our new cooker delivered on Thursday 30th December and in total we were inconvenienced for five whole days, five days before normality was restored to our household.

Many of the survivors of the Tsunami would never have their lives fully restored to what they knew before Boxing Day.

 

So, in future I suggest you all count your blessing, and make the best of what you have because it’s a lot more than many.

 

Monday 14 December 2020

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (013) An Unentertaining Christmas

 

Since the advent of Cable, Satellite and Streaming the quality of the entertainment seems to diminish as each Christmas passes.

It used to be bad enough in the old days when there were only three channels to fill, but we did at least get some great Christmas fare.

Now we allegedly have more choice than we have ever had, although I think the reality is that we merely have more channels, and the same or even less quality.

In truth the terrestrial channels can’t really compete although to be honest they don’t even try don’t even try any more to offer anything that we might consider to be of acceptable quality.

Year after year all five channels are packed with a mixture of repeats and things which should never be seen again.

I remember a Christmas not long ago; I can’t remember one single stand out program that appeared on the terrestrial channels that year.

To be truthful it doesn’t have to be the latest Christmas schedule as every one is the same.

The Great Escape, Tom Browns schooldays, Mr Chips and the obligatory Sound of Music.

However, there are sometimes a selection of new dramas though quite honestly, they do tend to flatter to deceive.

I remember one holiday season several years ago where one of the offerings was something called “Uncle Adolph”, God alone knows what they were thinking.

Ken Stott had the lead role, although he was more reminiscent of Groucho Marx than the Fuhrer and at one point good old incestuous Uncle Adolph was sat knocking out a tune on the piano to impress his pretty young niece and I genuinely thought he was going to burst into a chorus of “Springtime for Hitler”, to be quite honest the play couldn’t have been anymore ludicrous if he had.

I do still get my bumper Christmas edition of the Radio Times every year and open it with real hope that this year will be better than the one before, but alas.

Sunday 13 December 2020

IS IT URGENT?

 

I awake unwell with swollen glands

With fevered brow and sweaty hands

I shake and shiver and cough and sneeze

I sweat and flush and choke and wheeze

I mutter and mumble and grunt and groan

As I struggle downstairs to find the phone

I first call work to let them know

To the office today I will not show

And then the doctor’s line I dial

A stern voice answers in a while

“What name”? Is the curt response?

An appointment please I say at once

Well, is it urgent? She retorts

Well, I’m not dying just out of sorts

You can see a doctor in three weeks time

I hope to be better by then I chime

Shall I book you an appointment then?

No if I’m not better I’ll call again.

But I'll say to you without offence

If I’m still ill in three weeks hence

I’ll eat my hat till I eat my fill

For I will never ever have been so ill

Thursday 10 December 2020

HUNGRY SHAKESPEARE

 

To eat or not to eat, that is ingestion

Whether tis hunger in the mind to suffer

The pangs and gurgles of outrageous juices

Or to take in food against a sea of rumbles

And by digesting end them.