Monthly Archives: November 2017

@baffled, #HaikuChallenge – “did”

Did I do it right?

Did I? Or did I do wrong?

I did right? Splendid!

There’s a hole in my t-shirt, dear Peter. @IQHQLive

There’s a hole in my t-shirt, dear Peter, dear Peter;

There’s a hole in my t-shirt, dear Peter, a hole!

I’ve only had it two decades, dear Peter, dear Peter,

I’ve only had it two decades, now it’s got a hole.

It says it’s forever, dear Peter, forever;

Two decades is not forever, dear Peter, no, no.

Graeme:)

0 x 0 = ?

https://youtu.be/GArapye1_Rg

One and one is.

Whereas,

One minus one isn’t.

Nothing multiplied

By anything

Is still nothing;

And, conversely,

Anything multiplied by nothing

Is also nothing.

“Nothing will come of nothing!” spake King Lear.

He wasn’t much of a king at the end;

But, he still knew some maths

(Although dividing one by three was the worst sum he ever tried).

A Bit Gilbert & Sullivany?

A Bit Gilbert & Sullivany? (Leader of the Queen’s Navy)

Of all the world that I’ve yet to see

There are sev’ral far off places that do call to me

I long to see Venice and the Isle of Man;

Krakatoa, Peckham High Street, old Japan;

Bermondsey, Wandsworth, Epping, Crewe

Cape St. Vincent and Timbuk, too!

I Am Not A Solent Poet!

I am not a Solent Poet!

I shall be heard,

Wherever I am!

I have crossed the Tamar,

And Kernow is now my home

And how!

I am not a Solent Poet

But, I was.

And, I suppose,

Even when it’s really noisy,

A little part of me

Will always have

Solent’s.

A Place to Change

Jane has a big heart and cares –
please read this and maybe things
can get better – Grae

moonworld

aka Everybody deserves their dignity

I do not have a physical disability. My sister is in a wheelchair, as is my partner’s sister, and whilst the issue I’m addressing in this blog does not affect them directly, nobody knows what the future holds.

First, a disclaimer. This blog is not written in my professional capacity. All opinions are personal.

I’m a social media officer for a mobility equipment provider, and monitor the internet for relevant ‘mentions’. This has brought to me an awareness of the need for Changing Places facilities.

What are Changing Places?

Changing Places are accessible toilets. Not the general kind of toilet you find here, there and everywhere that only complies with Doc M regulations. Changing Places are truly accessible toilets, with changing benches for larger children and adults and hoists.

Think about these two scenarios for a moment.

Scenario 1

You are the parent of a…

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Early One Wednesday Morning, In Sir Cecil Sissington-Smythe’s Civil Service Office.

“Se-ver-al Ci-vil Ser-vice sil-ver sal-vers!” she said, slowly, salaciously, seditiously.

“Several!” said Sir Cyril Sissington-Smythe, severely.

“Sì, Signore Cy-ril!” Sonia Sanchez-Sans-Sevilla, Sir Cyril’s Spanish Secretary, asserted seductively. “Se-ver-al.”

Sir Cecil sighed – it was going to be another of those exasperating Esperanto Wednesdays.

The Lady Who Loved Cats.

Subtitle: Eaten By Cats

All through her life

She was eaten by cats;

‘Feed them,

Water them

(so they grow)’

She gave them names

So she’d know

which was which;

Toys she supplied

And scratching posts, too;

She had more big cats

Than the tiniest zoo.

And as she grew older

The cats came and went

She replaced a lost ‘kitty’

With a ‘kitty’ from Kent

(Oh, yes, she adopted them, too!)

And the numbers increased

There were dozens and more;

She kept fifty in the house

And had another fifty at the door.

Then, one day, she died;

And the cats were not fed:

“Feed us, Feed us! Here and now!”

Which is what they were saying with their ‘Me-ow, meow!” It is said.

The cats did ask

The cats did beg

Until one hungry tabby

Sniffed hungrily at a leg…

On a velocipede made for one – somewhere in England in the mid 1870s.

On a velocipede made for one – somewhere in England in the mid 1870s.

“Straddle the saddle

Paddle and skedaddle

Until into a staddle

Stone you do ride!”

Ouch! And all are

Cross, bar none.

The staddle-stone owner

Was none to happy;

Though, normally, a happy sort of chappy;

But, the cyclist – a loner

And, now a pain-groaner

Had naddled his grunions – he had!

He later spoke much of his choice

In buying this ‘thing’

And in such a high voice

That the glassware did ring –

And a Champagne flute broke

From the strain.

Our Velocipedist did the Anglo-Saxon language enlist

To describe how he felt when he’d landed;

The ladies did blush

The Gentlemen present said “Hush!”

And a ‘scallywag type’ he was branded.

The Velocipede of this injured chap’s mishap,

Was bartered for scrap;

And was never to set sail again;

For the man with high voice

Waited for Messrs. Rolls and Royce

To invent something that was not quite such a pain.

I Have Seen The Dancing People.

I have seen the dancing people,

They love to move before the fire;

And when the flames are roaring bright,

Then the people dance with much desire;

And when the flames die down and fade,

The dancing people

To rest are laid.