Monthly Archives: June 2019

In the Out @Morrisons

In the Out @Morrisons

In the Out @Morrisons

In the out,

in the out,

you’re coming in the out;

there isn’t a single doubt

that you’re coming in the out.

And you’ll probably go

out the in

when you’ve been in

and seek to travel out.


“Hello, Little Leaf.” (Please sing this A Capella)

“Hello, Little Leaf.” (Please sing this A Capella)

Hello, little leaf,

Have you lost your way?

Are you far from home,

in the breeze blown away?

Hello, little leaf,

is it you once again?

Or is it your leafy friend?

The New Jacobite Revolution.

The New Jacobite Revolution.

A man stopped me in the street this morning and asked me if I’d like to be a Stuart; ‘well.’ I said, ‘I’m quite happy being a Graeme.’

‘No!’ he said. ‘I meant a steward!’

‘Oh!’ I said. ‘I understand now, not a Stuart; you don’t want me to take part in the new Jacobite revolution – do you?’ I asked hopefully

“Tuesday’s Gone!”

“Tuesday’s Gone!”

‘Tuesday’s Gone’ sang Lynyrd Skynyrd back in nineteen seventy something.

Well, I don’t know which particular Tuesday they were alluding to, but, it seems to me, writing this on ‘a’ Tuesday, that Tuesday’s come and go, and whilst that is happening they stop for a while and say hello.

The fact that it can be Tuesday here, and Wednesday in Woolamaloo, or Monday in Montana, is also a bit weird.

I was listening to a radio programme recently where the narrator of the story (I think it was a TED talk) was saying that when the Millennium changed from 1999 to 2000 a lot of religious people foresaw the second coming of Jesus on the stroke of midnight. In the narrators congregation they sat and waited, praying and foreseeing, until midnight quietly slipped past. They were very upset. Then the narrator commented that it was strange if Jesus had to arrive at the stroke of midnight in all the different time zones in America. If makes you think. That was on a Friday, by the way, although it had long been Saturday already in Sydney.

The Tide Is Out (a la Blondie)

The Tide Is Out (a la Blondie)

The tide is out,

and I’m stuck in the mud;

my keel needs scraping,

it’s covered in crud;

the tide is out.

My Wellington Boots Haiku

My Wellington Boots Haiku

My Wellington Boots

do help to keep my feet dry

and are so stylish.

Well, readers, that was

My Wellington Boots haiku;

what more can I say?

The Day My Muse Blew A Fuse.

The Day My Muse Blew A Fuse.

I had to write something –

I just had to;

and then my muse

blew a fuse

(which is liable to confuse

the best of us,

never mind the rest of us).

So, here I stand,

in the dark,

fiddling with muse wire

at the muse box,

and I have the wrong type of screwdriver –


I guess I shall just have to wait

until the light of dawn,

as I hesitate to reinstate

the power that fuels my thought –

even though I ought.