Latest Amis

Despite delivering a cavalcade of superb fictional novels (Money, The Information, London Fields) the great Martin Amis has never won the Booker prize. His latest offering, Lionel Asbo, will probably not appeal to this year’s judging panel either. This doesn’t make it a bad book.

A constant criticism of Amis is that he can’t write good stories. Jealously, critics barb that stylistic writing and fancy metaphors can’t hide weak plots. Maybe, they ask for too much. When every paragraph is peppered with a variegation of exotic gems, the storyline does sometimes need to take a breather. Continue reading “Latest Amis”

Love Story (Janus pet comp)

Waiting for my discoverer
I lounge on the decking of lust
‘Neath the flower pots of flowers that I do not know
Crocus, narcissus, aramanthus?

As the sun smiles with a shiny face
There is a buzz about the place
The air is alive with a kaleidoscope of a thousand Joseph coats
I open my drawbridge and drain my moat
The beautiful Princess of the air nears me
She has ignored -I don’t know- violet, daisy and… Andy?

My vivid clothing has attracted her
She gives my chest the lightest kiss
With dry lips I watch her go
Goodbye, my sweet Miss

Erm excuse me…

So our hard working, honest and conscientious ministers are to boycot the Euro 2012 football farce.

But if we should scrape through to the semis in Poland they will attend because the Poles are nice and the Ukes are nasty.

My thought is this, why are they going on a freebie ticket to watch any sport when we are supposed to be saving every tax penny? What political boon is there to them showing their embezzling, weasel faces at any game? That’s right you heard me, GAME.

Yet even more proof, were it ever required that these morons do not inhabit the same planet as the rest of us.

Asthall Manor, truly ‘on form’ (thank you Janus)

The English weather never ceases to surprise.

Wet and windy Saturday, dull and over cast all Sunday morning, white cloud and sunny intervals in the afternoon, followed by another downpour in the evening. Which all-in-all meant that the open gardens, (2-6 pm) were saved from being a washout and it was actually quite pleasant.

I had promised to go to my friends’ open garden, in a village near Cheltenham, and on the way I planned a stop, about half-way to their house, at Astall Manor’s, On Form Sculpture. What a treat, though a treat which wasn’t cheap.
The setting is glorious, the sculpture various and wonderful and all the while I wished I could have arranged to have a companion with me to share my ooohs and ahhhs!
However Cycloman was out on his bike and the boys revising.

Continue reading “Asthall Manor, truly ‘on form’ (thank you Janus)”

Horror and more Horror

Ralph let out a weak sigh as he missed another easy putt on the green. “I don’t know what’s the matter with my game today.” he said.

Ralph’s friend, Jeff, was his rival at today‘s friendly match play contest. Jeff had an answer.
“You’ve got the yips.”

“The what?” Ralph, although a keen golfer was unfamiliar with this saying.

“The yips, you‘ve got them. I know yips when I see them. You’re yipping all over the place.” yapped Jeff and he proceeded to give a demonstration of yipping using his putter.

“Does the yips hurt?” asked Ralph.

“No, it’s just a spasm you get before you putt. It’s psychological not physical.” muttered Jeff. Continue reading “Horror and more Horror”