Mrs FEEG and I will be celebrating Thanksgiving in the US of A next week and when we get home on December 3rd, I am hoping to find lots of pomes on the subject of “Giving Thanks” for judging in the Month’s Poetry Competition.
There have already been a couple of very good ones, but rather fewer than we might hope for. So, please, put on your thinking caps and start composing.
Flying over France left me hopeful. There was a fair amount of visibility and it seemed as if the weather would co-operate. Flying over the English Channel did little to break my mild streak of hope of seeing a bit of English coastline from the air. The grey, churning waters were clearly visible. My hope grew as time progressed and Davey’s Follies started appearing below, spin, spin, spinning in the wind. Quietly, gently I hummed “the Man of la Mancha” to myself as my small aeroplane flew over rows and rows of Davey’s Follies. Soon, I thought, I will see the English coast. The colour of the water started to change, more waves became apparent. My hope was rising in a sharp crescendo – the English coast in autumn! Suddenly, my Luxembourg Airlines Bombardier flew into a thick cover of clouds – grey, grey, white and then grey. A few minutes later, the pilot announced that we had started our final descent into London City Airport as the clouds broke and suburban South-Eastern England appeared beneath. “Oh, g-d, good old England” I thought.
The rest of my flight progressed nicely. We arrived in London half an hour late. Passport control was quick and painless – although it took a few minutes for my suitcase to arrive. After a 15-minute chinwag with two members of the Royal British Legion, I purchased my perquisite poppy and set out to see if Boadicea made it from Hove. Not seeing anyone, I purchased a single fare ticket and went to Waterloo Station. Having a few hours to spare, I walked to Westminster and explored the Houses of Parliament from the outside. Security was high and I heard a news-reader announce that the Jaguar that just drove through the gates was bringing Davey of Davey’s Follies’ fame to another session of wrecking the United Kingdom. I could not help myself humming “the Man of la Mancha” again, albeit slightly louder this time in response to the din of traffic.
Continue reading “A tremendous week.”
The photo competition, which asked for ‘photos which focusses on some detail we may usually overlook’ had an encouraging number of entries, considering how quiet it is currently around these parts.
Ara’s delicate silhouetted tree was the first entry, and a striking one at that, with blue sky and pink tinged clouds in the background, plus the chance to see the flowers and the green of the leaves faintly against the house.
(Personally I feel the strength of the image may have been improved by cropping to keep just the silhouetted image, loosing the house.) Continue reading “Pseu’s ‘Detail’ photo competition, results, November 16th 2014”
I have been wondering for some time why this silly woman had her bottom enlarged to such a ludicrous extent. Now I know.
Most people would just go out and buy a new occasional table.
Thanks to Janus’s incredibly good taste, it appears I am in a position to set the theme for November’s Pome Comp.
Since Mrs FEEG and I will be visiting our son and daughter-in-law in Washington, for Thanksgiving, I think a good theme for a poem would be Giving Thanks.
Continue reading “A poem for the November competition.”
I always think of “Toc” our late member when this time of the year comes around.
It was always he that stirred us into to casting our minds back and thinking of those who fell during the many conflicts, in many different parts of the world for far too long.
I was pleased to see the Springboks with the poppy on our shirt during the destruction of the Welsh in Cardiff yesterday. In remembrance of Toc and the millions of others, I’ve changed mine.
(re-posted from last year, complete with comments)
Here’s a fairly typical suburban scene.
Commuters waiting for a bus, a broken fence, a lamppost in the middle of my picture but what’s written on those pieces of paper stuck on the windows?
Good morning,
I just wanted to verify if our
planned gathering on Wednesday at London City Airport
scheduled for roughly 10:45-11:00 is still set.
Nice? I thought so, not my picture, taken by the organizer of the “Downrigging Weekend” in Chestertown, Maryland, an annual event for wooden boats and tall ships. I like the remains of the morning mist drifting off to the right. Continue reading “Maritime Picture for the Weekend”
Germany is a highly regulated country. No one has ever denied that. In fact, many wry observations have been made concerning the level of bureaucracy and regulation in the Federal Republic. Not too long ago, a woman at my health insurance company told me a joke about Germany: “Germany, your bureaucrats”. Part of this is cultural. Germans tend to see things in black and white. Germans also tend to prefer said black and said white to be as clearly delineated as possible.
This is also reflected in the German legal system. Forms and contracts in Germany tend to be quite succinct, especially when compared to those written in Common Law countries. The German Civil Code is very detailed and covers virtually every aspect of commerce and legally binding agreements. There is little point in outlining terms and conditions because any agreement would be subject to established rules and regulations.
Today, however, I spotted something which simply went too far. It being a cool day, I found it necessary to go to a convenience. After paying my obligatory 50-cent fee, annoying but tolerable considering that in exchange the convenience is clean and well-maintained, I saw an illustrated guide to adhering to regulations concerning how men may use a toilet. Yes, there are now regulations concerning which position men can be in while using a toilet. I am not entirely sure how they intend to enforce these regulations, but they have illustrated guides showing how to obey these regulations. We men must sit when urinating, not stand. I wish them the very best of luck in their attempts to persuade men to comply with this.
Boadicea's Chariot 
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