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    I've Never Been Partial To Girls Who Swear

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      sometimes you just can’t win

      **~top~**

      hobbies for advancing age

      Another digression. Getting older has a fair few advantages, but it also comes with a price tag. This is pretty much a flight of fancy based on observation and unfortunately, some degree of experience – ouch!

      hobbies for advancing age

      with advancing decrepitude

      we seem to lose all aptitude

      for those

      defining moments

      moments that form the clay

      that creates the man

      so to speak

      in an effort to

      ward off the inevitable

      we seek to fill the wakings

      with a smorgasbord of activities

      endeavours that focus the old grey sponge

      on the avant garde

      the unusual

      the novel

      well perhaps not the novel

      for most, at most a novelette

      perhaps a short story

      for some merely a chapter

      but I digress

      at this chapter

      when many appear sentenced to

      lawn bowls, sudoku or jigsaw puzzles

      I find that

      I seem to have taken up

      involuntary spontaneous buttock applause

      which could either be considered

      an interesting and unusual hobby

      or somewhat of an

      affliction

      depending on your position

      on the matter

      or more particularly

      your proximity

      to the matter

      and don't think for a moment

      that this is some dreary bagatelle

      some mere smattering

      some desultory response

      to the 14th annual performance of hamlet

      by the auchenshoogle

      dungeons, dragons and geeks society

      no

      I'm talking full houses

      ticketed

      no comps

      the london philharmonic

      with andre rieu as guest conductor

      the albert hall

      a golden jubilee performance

      three standing ovations

      and each and every performance

      a complete surprise

      to both

      audience and orchestra

      now,

      while this has afforded

      untold amusement

      in the privacy of my own home

      particularly with respect to an

      uncanny ability

      to provide the “mot juste”

      during televised political and social commentary

      I will be the first to admit

      that involuntary spontaneous buttock applause

      is not everyone's

      cup of tea

      indeed, it can hardly be considered

      “de rigueur”

      in polite society

      it's the spontaneous nature

      of the thing

      that's the problem

      I mean

      one never knows

      one cannot predict

      one cannot forecast

      all one can do is to employ

      what is commonly referred to nowadays as

      coping strategies

      to date

      my most efficacious strategy

      is to be found in the vigorous application

      of one's palms

      one against the other

      to coincide with the

      involuntary spontaneous buttock applause

      and I do believe

      I now have this

      down to a fine art

      lately I've taken to

      adding vocal special effects

      mainly whoops and hollers

      but I do feel almost confident enough

      to employ the odd

      bravo or jolly well done

      should the occasion warrant it

      of course

      there's always the

      aroma

      to be dealt with

      but lately I've been quite fortunate

      with either sleeping dogs, grandmothers or babies

      in the vicinity

      I have found that one must

      choose one's venues most carefully

      as some venues naturally present more

      difficulties than others

      Aunt Agatha's funeral

      being a case in point

      it certainly proved to be the most interesting eulogy

      I've attended in many a year

      uproarious standing ovations

      in stereo

      at random and

      I must admit

      inappropriate intervals

      seemed to create a good deal of tension

      among the gathered

      the ensuing battalion

      of angry goldfish stares

      quite clearly failed to appreciate the

      humour of the situation

      and I'm afraid the

      sheer volume of shusshes

      somewhat dented my usual

      sang froid

      knocked the old aplomb

      for a six – so to speak

      I believe the funereal atmosphere didn't help

      I've always found these

      open casket affairs

      somewhat overloaded with the stuff

      and one's usual good judgment

      tends to suffer as a result

      I suppose my attestation

      that

      cadavers sometime smell like that

      was inevitable

      given the circumstances

      but I do feel it

      like the

      involuntary spontaneous buttock applause

      tended to focus the old spotlight

      rather to heavily on what could well be considered

      the victim in this matter

      and now

      as I watch my

      close knit circle of friends

      dissipate

      into an

      ever-widening circle of

      casual acquaintances

      it has left me wondering

      is this whole thing

      this involuntary spontaneous buttock applause

      all some kind of

      divine retribution

      for some past and forgotten misdemeanour

      or is it all just

      some kind of

      grand celestial joke

      the product of a warped and twisted mind

      which in turn

      begs the question

      is man really made in his image after all?

      **~top~**

      ratquiem

      Moving to the country has brought us a great deal of enjoyment – we have enormous parties and lots of fun. When there's no parties, there's peace and tranquillity. What we didn't count on however, was the constant need to protect our home from invaders – mice, pigeons, starlings, sparrows... It's been a constant battle and one that takes it's toll – you can have traps, electronic devices to scare them away – even poison – but if a mouse wants to chew something in your roof space or under your floor at 3am then there's precious little you can do about it.

      ratquiem

      as I lay these bones to rest

      I’d like to get this off my chest

      y’see I’ve walked this life uncommonly blessed

      with she who timidly said yes

      of golden hair nightly caressed

      now falling out – I do not jest

      all thanks to you unwelcome guest

      who leaves each surface much distressed

      half eaten food strewn east and west

      with faeces mixed up in the mess

      and nightly chatter to shatter our rest

      with no respite – put to the test

      patience tried – constant duress

      til suddenly, who would have guessed
    r />   out of the blue we found success

      when you stayed home alone today… compressed!

      **~top~**

      if I asked you to stay

      I've always been a bit of a night owl – usually the last one to bed at the end of an evening. I've occasionally sat up right through the night after a jam session talking to Eric (our record is 7am and we're not proud of it – well....) and that got me to thinking about others who are maybe a bit afraid of going to sleep. Dedicated to those we know suffering from relationship issues – god knows, it's common enough.

      if I asked you to stay

      if I asked you to stay

      and just talk the whole night through

      tell me would you

      could you

      there are shadows in my head tonight

      I’d rather not view

      they picked up the trail

      near a river of thought this morning

      been holding my breath

      alarms sounding throughout the day

      but they slipped through the net

      breached my defences with no warning

      now it’s panic stations

      as we come to the end of day

      I’ve fastened the shutters

      battened the hatches

      locked and bolted my mind

      but sooner or later

      left alone tonight

      I know it’s only a matter of time

      I’ve been out on a limb

      since I first heard her voice this morning

      sentries posted

      red alert right through the day

      but as the sun goes down

      shadows pick on me with no warning

      can’t escape the pain

      as darkness comes into play

      they’re sniffing around

      searching for tracks

      minefield swept clean away

      and if left alone

      with a mind on the run

      I know I won’t see the light of day

      been disguised in the glow

      of your meaningless conversation

      your witless protection

      had the enemy held at bay

      but now I feel those shadows

      as they creep under cloak of darkness

      but I might make it through

      if you’d only agree to stay

      they’re hot on my trail

      no false alarms

      roadblocks no use tonight

      but if you talk real soft

      of cabbages and kings

      I might make it through the night

      **~top~**

      the drummer’s song

      I used to do a bit of beat poetry of a Wednesday down at the old Southern Blues Bar (sadly demolished since the earthquake) when Todd and the lads were the house band. Todd would get right into the poetry and before you know it the bass would be flying up and down the mic stand making the weirdest noises... We had a great time performing mainly for Chris on the bar and the (decidedly) odd patron who happened to drift in. Todd's drummer challenged me one night – asking if I could write a poem about anything – taking up the challenge, I asked him to name his anything – he chose a one-winged fly – here's the result.

      the drummer’s song

      I tried to catch a one-winged fly

      flying backwards on a moonlight monday night

      but it’s aerial acrobatics

      were too much for this paralytic and

      that’s when I knew my dear old mother, she was right when she said

      son, keep away from the light

      you’ll never play the games that others might

      you’re destined to be a creature of the night

      so son just keep away from the light

      a girl in blue told me to walk the line

      I believe she moved that line a thousand times

      but she let me walk away

      after saying I’d made her day

      when I claimed that all I’d had was a couple of wines

      I was dancing with a box of KFC

      wearing most of the colonel’s secret recipe

      I should’ve been finger lickin’

      but I was feeling pretty sick an’

      I realised then my dear old mum knew all about me when she said

      son, keep away from the light

      you’ll never play the games that others might

      you’re destined to be a creature of the night

      so son just keep away from the light

      I wonder why my eyes are bloodshot red

      and the sunbeams pierce the hangover round my bed

      last night’s hair of dog solution

      just confused my situation

      and I’m not sure if I’m still living or if I’m dead

      don’t know when I’ll ever be able to stand

      my life is over – these things are never planned

      but wait, the sun is going down

      must be an aspirin around

      got to get to work – I’m the drummer in the band

      **~top~**

      best part of the day

      This came about from one of Andy Thompson's polytech writing classes. One of those “bear your soul” homework assignments. I've never been one for hanging out the dirty laundry – it's that whole Celtic thing I suppose – feelings should be repressed, locked up, hidden – but this one worked well enough to eventually see the light on day. No prizes for guessing the inspiration for this one.

      best part of the day

      the best part of the day

      is when I wrap my arms around you

      nothing seems so bad

      when I’m laying by your side

      I creep in late at night

      every muscle aching for you

      that moment when we touch

      fills my tired heart with pride

      now I begin to understand

      what heaven might be

      it’s that moment of first contact

      held for eternity

      I never say enough

      to tell how much I need you

      fate was surely smiling

      when she made our paths collide

      the best part of the day

      is when I wrap my arms around you

      fate was surely smiling

      when she made our paths collide

      **~top~**

      Thank you

      ###

      I really do hope you have enjoyed this book and take some time to perform them for your friends, as they really only do come to life when performed live.

     
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