Tag Archives: @Jane_Goldsack

You Only Spread Twice

‘From Tiptree With Love’

“The Man With The Golden Spread”

“The Spy Who Loved Toast”


@Tiptree #JamesBondFilms

@Jane_Goldsack supplied the lovely home-made bread.

Photographed by me.

Original idea from Ian Fleming

Filmed in Breakovision.

The Cat Who Can (Manxu)

Manx(u) Cat

Manx(u) Cat

The Cat Who Can (Manxu)

“Me? How?
You have to give me time!
Fine! Saus-a-ges


With many thanks to Jane for alerting me to this form – 2-2-1-6-1-4-! (Must finish with an !).

A little sack of gold

Contents: Naughty.

Contents: Naughty

A little sack of gold

If the truth be told

If I may be so bold

A tale may here unfold

Of goods and things so sold

Lovely to behold

And it’s worth will not grow old

Or fires blaze to cold…

It is our supper…

in a little sack of gold.

A Little Collaboration! (Jane’s Musings and I)

Not that the French say this.

Not that the French say this.

The invention
Of intention
One day
Purely by chance.
It added a new dimension
To my writing
And, did I mention
It happened
One day
Purely by chance?

It was at a dance
In France
A chanson d’amour
Was playing
For sure
On the juke-box
It was le chanson
Tous les jours
For the day
All day
Every day.

Nonsense Poetry in 8,6,4 Syllables.

Frying-Pan the Cat (her name, not an instruction, oh, no, no!

Frying-Pan the Cat (her name, not an instruction, oh, no, no!

“I am not a big fan of fans.”

Said Frying-Pan, the cat

And that was that.


She often made these strange comments

From her saf-é-ty-mat

‘She’ called it that.


“Nor am I! exclaimed Frying-Pan;

As she sizzled and spat!

‘Her’ name was ‘Cat!’


“It’s a topsy-turvy world here!

And no mistake!” said Matt;

A passing gnat.


But, it was just another day

In Rain-Cloud-Cuckoo Flat;

Where ‘things’ ‘do’ chat.

A Kind of Coffee


Fill up my coffee cup
With kindness
And I won’t miss my brew
I Fill up my coffee cup with you

How Goes The Day?

J. S. Goldsack

J. S. Goldsack

We talk via text

When apart

Each hard at work

But, taking a moment to touch

Across the miles.


We think via empathy

And the pathway spanning my mind is a well worn route

From your crossings and recrossings;

You know the way.

But, sometimes, when apart, we wobble

Because, sometimes, we are human jellies

And it is what we do.


Here, I say, never fear,

We shall be back in arms


Soon, my dear.

” ‘Smozers!’ Jane Likes ‘Smozers!’ “


“Smozers! Jane likes ‘Smozers!’ “

Which is not quite the Earth-shattering news that you’d think.
Jane ‘actually’ likes ‘samosas’ which is even more of a ‘non’ event.

“Don’t put your Smozers in the toaster, Mrs Potamus.”

Which phrase is just Jane’s idea of using a lyric from The Sweetchunks Band’s song ‘Hippopotamus’ and substituting some words to effect a clever play on the matter in hand.

The original lyric is:

“Don’t put your hippo in a tutu, Mrs Potamus!”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8A5VFcLOvE&sns=tw via @youtube

Which is s scream when heard live for the first time (and soon becomes an ‘ear-worm’ for the rest of your life or until you die – whichever comes first).

Anyway, the ‘Smozers!’ In question were warmed up in the aforementioned toaster – causing SDS (Samosa Disintegration Syndrome) to occur. Muggins here had to clean out the toaster (remembering to remove from the power and clear the sink for the project).

Glad to say that the toaster and myself survived to toast the occasion; but, sadly, the ‘Smozer!’ that was released from the toasting device didn’t survive the operation – black armbands are to be worn at half mast for the foreseeable future.

I hope that this sad tale has not upset your delicate metabolisms. If it ‘has’ done any irrevocable damage at all to your body or fragile mind, consider yourself lucky that it’s nearly at an end.

Which is now


Quixotry for the Win!


You Scrabbled my love
And I was lost for words
You lead from the start
In the quest to win, my sweetheart;
Your planets were all and Io you a lot
But you can’t have a ‘li’ and a ‘di’
In the acceptable words ‘one’ is not
All that it could be
So, you see, I
With my Tortoise-like ways
By a Hare’s breadth have crossed the line first with my ‘up’ and my ‘ice’
The feeling of winning is okay
But, the playing with you…
That is what is so nice.

Scone-Sketch Bites Man!

Able:		Scone.
Baker:		What has
Able:		No! Scone!
Baker:		Scone?
Able:		Ay, scone.
Baker:		Just the one?
Able:		Ay, a singularly singular 'scone!'
Baker:		I'd call it a scöne!
Able:		You would!
Baker:		What's that supposed to mean?
Able:		Tomatoes, potatoes, pineapples, scones! 
		It's the different way that you and I say the same things.
Baker:		Oh. 
Baker:		Pineapple?
Able:		Yes - took your time - you'd call it a 'nexotic' fruit; 
		whereas to me it's just a common everyday 'pineapple'.
Baker:		Oh.
Baker:		What a lot of cahones you talk.
Able:		No it's gone
Baker:		Scone or scöne
Able:		No! My sketch idea.
Baker:		Upon?
Able:		A scone.
Baker:		Oh!
Able:		Oh? Is that all you can say?
Baker:		Well, I mean... it's a shame, and all that; but, 
		it was just a sketch about a... (slowly) ...scone.
Able:		'Just' a sketch?! It was a brilliant idea; 
		a work of genius; a creative masterpiece; a... a...
Baker:		(blandly) ... sketch about a scone.
Able:		Oh, you; 'you' wouldn't know a genius sketch about
		a scone if it bit you on the backside!
Baker:		Is that likely? 'Scone-Sketch Bites Man!'
Able:		I can see the headline now.
Baker:		Whatever! (leaves)
Able:		He... 'sgone!