Monthly Archives: December 2019

“Roast Concert Ukulele with Rosemary Parmentier Potatoes, Rainbow Carrots, and a Mixture of Winter Greens. “

“Roast Concert Ukulele with Rosemary Parmentier Potatoes, Rainbow Carrots, and a Mixture of Winter Greens.”

“Please can you tell me what there is upon the menu?” asked Paddington, politely.

“Well…” said the maître d’, “We have a selection of dishes for a delectation of tastes…” he awaited a few moments, to build the suspense. “But, our ‘piece de resistance’ is the ‘Chef’s Special’, which is ‘Roast Concert Ukulele with Rosemary Parmentier Potatoes, Rainbow Carrots, and a Mixture of Winter Greens.’ the maître d’ stood back and awaited an order of the ‘Chef’s Special’ to be received.

“Ummm.” considered Paddington; and polite as ever, he spoke, “Very nice, as I expect that is… have you got anything with… marmalade in it… on it… or very near to it?”

The maître d’ was slightly taken aback. Actually, he was ‘very’ taken aback; but, before he could conjure up a response…

“No? Oh, well don’t worry, I will have the Chef’s Special. I brought along a couple of jars of my latest home-brewed marmalade just in case the chef had forgotten it.”

The Chef’s ‘even more’ Special was a great success – and, luckily, Paddington had brought enough marmalade to go round.


#6 in a series of 10 from the book, ‘Ten Creative Ways to ‘Literally’ Cook Your Ukulele.’

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Babe.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Babe.

It’s New Year’s Eve,

and time to leave,

to make way

for another one.

What did I achieve?

Well, that depends

on who you are,

and where you are.

There must have been some good,

in some neighbourhood,

to balance out the bad;

but, let’s face the facts,

in scenes, or acts,

there are always

the winners

and the losers.

Remember this,

beggars can’t be choosers,

and the poor

get poorer,

as the rich

eat all the pies.

“Half-Baked Ukulele in a Red Wine Jus.”

“Half-Baked Ukulele in a Red Wine Jus.

The idea was simple. In fact, it was almost too simple for Alice to understand. If she drank from the bottle marked ‘Drink Me!’ she would shrink to a height of ten inches or so; if she then ate of the cake that was labelled ‘Eat Me!’ she would grow to fill all of the available (and some of the unavailable) space in the room.

However, there now appeared to be a third option. This was in the form of the arrival, as if by magic, of a small four-stringed instrument that made a strange ‘thrrrrrrrinnnng!’ sound when Alice ran her fingers across the strings. This instrument had a label attached to it with the words ‘Cook Me!’ written upon it.

And so Alice did.

Forty-five minutes later, Alice had concocted a dish that she liked to call ‘Half-Baked Ukulele in a Red Wine Jus’.

The taste was rather curious, decided Alice.


#5 in a series of 10, comically called, ‘Ten Creative Ways to ‘Literally’ Cook Your Ukulele.’

I’m a Fruitcake (The Fruitcake Song)

I’m a Fruitcake (The Fruitcake Song)

I’m a fruitcake,

you’re a fruitcake,

everybody here is a fruitcake.

What does it take

to be a fruitcake?


fruit and cake

put them together

and what does it make?

The Boon

The Boon

She asked a boon,

“Could I have the Moon,

upon a bed of lettuce?”

I, thought once,

thought twice;

and gave her the Moon

on a colourful bed of rainbow rice.

Not what she wanted,

but almost as nice.



I was pondering,

the other day –

in a pond, obviously,

about the world,

and where it



After a considerable amount

of pond-pondering,

I came to the conclusion

that, given that I have

a very limited


of this sort of thing,


I would be better off

pondering my armpits.

So, I pondered upon those for a while.

Life is deep.

A Haiku For Now

A Haiku For Now

Not for yesterday;

and it’s not for tomorrow;

it is just for now.

That is not to say

you can’t read it tomorrow;

because, yes, you can.

But not yesterday,

that would just be quite something

out of the normal.

So, this here haiku –

well, this series of haiku –

are of the moment;

and just don’t you forget it –

Tankas available, too.

A Warning (of sorts)

A Warning (of sorts)

Trite awareness

of the vague possibility

of a probable happening

that may, or may not,

have the ability

to completely avoid

any interaction

with anyone,

or anything,

is not a precursor

to a déjà vu moment –

that being said,

we should ignore it

at our own peril.

Me Ol’ Bamboo

Me Ol’ Bamboo

Me ‘Ol Bamboo


it seems,

can now be made

out of bamboo;

pants and socks,

ornamental clocks,

the things they pop on fence posts;

shoes and ties,

traditional mince pies,

a serving hot of French toasts,

and a gazillion other things;

new roof tiles, countryside stiles,

the sound when a telephone rings;

teacups, mugs, a smile and hugs;

there are so many things

I can make and do,

with a little bit of me ol’ bamboo.

One Less Guitar

One Less Guitar

One less guitar,

and the house feels much colder,

because I didn’t burn it, I sold her

for a handful of beans,

magical beans,

that will grow into a wonderful plant;

and that plant I shall climb,

reach a magical kingdom,

have a wonderful time,

and be back home before tea;

where my guitar will be waiting for –