Out at sea, the windmills are turning,
The bug-eyed greenie twits are gurning
Oh what a dreadful waste of space
Those windmills are, in that place
Thank you Christopher for this entirely unexpected honour.
I would like to thank so many people for making this possible, including my parents, my grandparents and my long term partner, my laptop. Of course I must include his parents, especially his father, Charles Babbage (even though the DNA tests have proved rather inconclusive so far) but without whom none of this would have been possible.
So to a new lyrical challenge.
Because I live by it, worked on it and look at it every day it is,
Could be anything in it, on it or around it. Anything that floats in it or anything that doesn’t. Could also include any plaice near it, so cast your doubts aside one and all and have a go, just for the halibut.
As required by any one of innumerable EU regulations entries are best before 01/05/2015.
I arrived in good order today in London. As promised, I will now announce the results of the poetry competition. Thank you Janus, Araminta, James and FEEG for your contributions. But, there can only be one victor. After much thought, I will take the role of Queen Gertrude and hand the chalice to our own Hamlet, JHLeck.
Been somewhat harrowing round here of late. We finally decided to move into town to our little house. Five acres is just becoming too much to cope with.
Having put it on the market, one more time, we took one look and realised quite how much housekeeping we haven’t done of late! Heaps of crap everywhere. It took spousal unit 10 days to clear the office, to one’s horror, no filing had been done since 2009, oops!
I realise that you Aussies want your revenge on the UK for sending all those convicts there. But last night on the leaders’ non-debate, I discovered your follow-up to Patsy Hewitt. As soon as I heard the voice of Natalie Bennet, I rushed into the kitchen to wash dishes. Please stop sending these women to us. Haven’t we suffered enough? And most of the convicts made good, but the same can’t be said for Hewitt or Greer or Bennet.
Originally I wrote this as a joke back back in the seventies, I had no idea that is might turn out still to be a bit closer to the truth than I had imagined, all these years later
“The time has come to end it all”
he said on looking down.
I’ll leap from this ledge fifty one floors up
Then blackness all around”
In passing by the thirteenth floor
A man leapt into space
A man of dark and flowing locks
A beard upon his face
A man who falling caught him up
And caught him by the ears
And yelled “This is a hijack man
Fly me to Algiers”
as March draws to its close I’d like to take the chance
to remind all of you that on the evening of 8 April I will, from London,
announce the winner of the poetry contest.
I came across this website by accident when looking for information on an uncle who served in the Chinese Maritime Customs before the war. He died in Amoy in 1937 of blood poisoning, no penicillin then.
There are some wonderful photographs and not all of ships, but of people and places. Looking through them I felt sad, the faces seemed somehow rather naive and innocent. They had no idea of the horror to come.
Below a picture of one of Swire’s river steamers.
Why is the term ‘strong language’ frequently used when what is really meant is ‘bad language’ ?