Creativity – Page 16 – Boadicea's Chariot

For my next trick

My friend had started a new job and he had taken to it like a smudge on a Polaroid print. All his colleagues are a good laugh and relations are great in the workforce, he said. The camaraderie is such that they spend a lot of their leisure time together as well. They had planned an evening out at a posh hotel. They were always going places and meeting up. Eager to meet these funny, interesting individuals I asked if I could come along.

“But you don’t know anyone,” said my friend “ You’ll just be sitting in the corner laughing at all the jokes.” Continue reading “For my next trick”

Blast from the past, the second

When Warner and Rogers left the pavilion separately this morning to bat at the Oval, a commentator was reminded of the days of the Gentlemen and Players, who disappeared (allegedly) from English cricket 50 years ago.

So I found this piece from Wisden which tells the tale.

http://www.espncricinfo.com/wisdenalmanack/content/story/573224.html

PS as I write, Warner is out for 6. Is he an amateur?

Blast from the past

Seated one day at the keyboard, I was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys……..(sorry Adelaide)……. when suddenly I noticed a tweet about the fourth Ashes test from (fanfare) Phil Slocombe! I was transported back to the darkest days of MyT when the inimitable Qum Slo Feel (dubbed in honour of his long-sufferíng Chinese spouse resident with him in southern Spain) held forth on things sporting and topical. Had he re-emerged to cast his pearls before us once more?

No. The tweeting Mr Slocombe is a former cricketer for Somerset. A rose by any other name….. But I wonder if his namesake ever sold his house down on the Costas and returned to Chendu? Did Ron, his mate at McLaren, ever heed his advice? Did the judiciary of Chester ever appoint a better JP? Ah, the memories….

A Childhood Summer (Beyond the Rainbow)

Somewhere deep in a meadow,
way back in time,
there’s a land I call summer,
safe in a childhood rhyme.

Somewhere deep in my mem’ry,
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that I dared to dream
Really did seem true.

Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up on a haystack far
Behind me.
I’ll gaze up at the sky above
and know my time is bound in love –
That’s where you’ll find me.

Somewhere over the distant hill
I lie
E-ver safe in a summer’s love
In a time gone by.

Hemispherical variations

Mid-August is somehow on the cusp – either of Autumn in Europe and some parts of the Americas or of Spring in the Antipodes. The equatorial tendency of course never quite differentiates.

So cherished versifiers, kindly be inspired to celebrate either the promise of summertime or its passing; both thoroughly deserving of your attention in the next two weeks after which you’ll be judged on the quality of your efforts.

https://charioteers.org/2013/07/25/summertime-the-august-poetry-challenge/

Pic by PS Krøyer, one of Denmark’s Golden Age painters who lived and worked in Skagen

15 minutes with Backside, 5

“In Greece tax inspectors have found that one in two businesses are cheating them. The rate is 56% on tourist islands like Mykonos and Crete, ” quoth Gavin of the Beeb, as if we should be shocked or otherwise impressed by the new-found diligence of the taxman.

Now bear in mind that I’m just a cynical old businessman who visited the Med and Middle East for 25 years from around the time the UK joined the EU (or somesuch). So I could be considered unduly aware of these things, eh? But to my certain knowledge business in those parts has long been conducted in ways least likely to benefit the Revenue or conform to local regulations.

My pic shows Mykonos mills used for public servants to tilt at.

Continue reading “15 minutes with Backside, 5”

A little diversion for the afternoon

One of the worst things in life is listening to other people’s ailments. Getting told the latest medical report from folk you barely know can be galling for a number of reasons. For one, it’s hard to be witty when someone you’re not that familiar with is giving you a car crash headache and another is that you’re suffering this barrage of bad news while trying to smokescreen a yawn. The perpetual groaners seem to revel in their pain. I’ve seen myself locked, piggy-in-the-middle, in a sickness session ménage à trois conversation with two swinging whingers trying to outdo each other in the illness stakes. The contest seemed to be who is the nearest to death’s door.

The only thing worse than hearing about the dooms and glooms of others is when someone tells you about the dream they had last night. In the name of Bobby Ewing, go away. Dreams are insignificant and instantly forgettable. I can’t remember any dream I’ve ever had and I must have had billions of them. Continue reading “A little diversion for the afternoon”

15 minutes with Backside, 2

British politics has had its pantomime villains down the years but nobody, I submit, as deliciously villainous as Burlesquoni, the Abanazar of the year-round theatre that is Italian life! I mean, we’ve all booed at Prezza and whistled at Archer but their misdemeanours pale in comparison to Baron Bunga-bunga.

Even now – when he’ll have to do community service – he might still qualify for public office! Imagine the scene: a PM giving singing and dancing lessons for free to disadvantaged immigrants from North Africa.

Grazie, Silvio!